Every Little Breath: A Tense Psychological Thriller Full of Twists

By the time Casey reached Captain’s Pond she was a nervous wreck, sick with worry in case Psycho Steven broke his promise about hurting Finn’s family, but also terrified about what she might be walking into.

All she could think about was Saffron Pollard suffocating to death with the plastic bag on her head and Lucy Sheldon slowly choking as she hung from the tree in the ruins of East Somerton’s old church. What was planned for Amanda Haines? And Casey wasn’t stupid. Psycho Steven had gone to pains to get her here alone. Was he really going to let her leave alive?

She should keep driving, go to the police. It’s what she should have done in the first place. Driving out here alone was quite possibly one of the most stupid things she had ever done.

But Finn and his family. She had gone to the police before. She had done the sensible thing, done as everyone told her, and, as a result, Saffron had died. Lucy too. If Psycho Steven butchered Patrick and Brenda Murphy, if he did anything to Niamh, how would Casey live with herself knowing she had a chance to stop it happening, but didn’t take it.

And Finn. He was a police officer, physically strong, so would surely have a chance against Psycho Steven, but what if he was caught off guard? What if he died? Casey couldn’t lose him. And even if he did survive, how would she possibly face him knowing that she had sacrificed his family to save her own skin?

As she drove past the body of water, the warm evening sun glistened over the calm surface. It was too pretty, too serene to be in this situation and in a way it felt like it wasn’t really happening. Of course it was, though, and as she passed the turning for The Hill, and slowed the car looking for the dirt track, saw it come into view, she thought she was going to be sick.

She couldn’t go through with this.

Still, she slowly navigated her car down the bumpy track, her leg trembling so badly she was struggling to keep her foot on the accelerator. There was still about twenty minutes of daylight and she could see the path winding through the trees ahead, wondering where the hell she was going and what she was going to find when she eventually stopped.

What if this was a trap?

Psycho Steven had Amanda. That was a certainty, but could Casey be sure she was here or even still alive? Steven had jumped the gun before. What if he was waiting here to ambush her?

She gripped the wheel tighter, forced herself to keep driving. As the track twisted again, she saw a building. Was it a house? Pulling into the clearing she stopped the car, though left the engine running.

The property before her looked fairly old and not particularly loved. Part of the roof was damaged, much of the paint on the window frames had chipped away and the panes of glass were filthy. The borders were overgrown and the paving stones leading to the shabby front door were broken and had weeds growing between the cracks.

Was this where Psycho Steven lived? It looked like something out of a horror movie.

There was no car in the drive and no sign of anyone being home.

He knows you’re here though. Go!

Her brain was screaming the action and she desperately wanted to go, but Finn was forefront in her mind. If she drove off now, what would be the consequences of her actions?

She managed to manoeuvre the car, repositioning it so it was facing back towards the road.

If she was really going to get out and go looking for Amanda, she wanted to be able to make a quick getaway. Not that it would make much difference. Psycho Steven had told her there was a camera in the car. He was watching her every move. And he undoubtedly had more cameras set up over the property. She was going to be walking into the lion’s den.

The enormity of the moment hit her as a wave of emotion took over, tears spilling as sobs wracked through her. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t go in there. Knew if she did that she was going to die.

What did the psycho have planned for her once he had her? Would her death be quick or would he torture her the same way he had tortured Saffron and Lucy?

Don’t even go there.

She thought of her family, her parents, and Nick and Liam so many miles away, understanding that she may never see them again. And Phoebe. Her little dog went everywhere with her, hadn’t understood why Casey had left without her tonight.

The tears fell harder until she could barely see and was struggling to catch her breath.

She couldn’t do this. She had to get out of here.

Pull yourself together. No one is here to help you.

She swiped at her eyes, sniffed back the tears, glancing at the house in the rear-view mirror, knowing she really was all alone, and fear pulsed through her.

She should leave now, before it was too late. Get to the police.

And if she did that, what were the consequences for Finn?

She thought of him now. The boy she had pined for and the man he had become. He infuriated her at times, didn’t know when to stop winding her up, but he was good and he was kind, and despite the fact she kept pushing him away, he had managed to burrow his way through her defences. He wasn’t just a casual fling. He was so much more than that.

It came down to him or her, she realised, and she was never going to get the chance to tell him what he really meant to her.

Fresh tears fell as she understood she couldn’t leave. She had to do this for him and for his family.

But could she really bring herself to go inside?

Deep breaths, Casey. Deep breaths. You can do this. Figure out a way to outsmart the bastard.

Switching off the engine, she reluctantly got out of the car.

Psycho Steven would know she was here now. What if he had a trap waiting for her? Was he watching her right now, waiting for her to get inside? He might not be here, but what if he had a partner? She hadn’t considered that; fresh fear burning through her.

Do this for Finn.

Getting her wrench from the boot, she took tentative steps towards the house, wondering where Amanda was. The sun was getting lower in the sky and she was conscious it would soon be dusk. She didn’t have a torch and honestly, the idea of being here past dark scared her half to death.

She was without her phone too and no one knew she was here. How the fuck was she going to get out of this?

As she neared the house, she almost bottled it, started to walk back to the car.

You have to do this, Casey. You don’t have a choice.

Finn, his family, Amanda. There were five lives at risk compared to her one. She had to do this for them.

She forced herself forward again, peered through one of the dusty front windows. It was gloomy inside the house, but she could just about make out a couple of sofas and a television. There didn’t appear to be anyone home, but it did nothing to allay her fears. It could still be a trap. Maybe she should walk the perimeter of the house first before making a decision about going inside. Although she didn’t have long, she still needed to pluck up the courage.

She glanced longingly at her little Toyota. Although it was only parked a few metres away, it seemed much further. If she had to run, would she make it back to the safety of the car? Her legs were so rubbery she was certain she was going to collapse at any moment.

You can do this, Casey.

The car disappeared from sight as she cautiously followed the path round the edge of the property. It was so quiet, just the sound of her footsteps on the concrete, though she was trying not to make too much noise, scared of what she might disturb.

As she passed the back garden, she was reminded of just how isolated the property was, surrounded by woods and in the middle of nowhere. Her relief at reaching the front of the house again, her car back in sight, was quashed by a fresh wave of fear that she couldn’t put off going inside.

And she was running out of daylight too, knew it would soon be dark.

God, she couldn’t do this.

She paced outside the front door, wanting to delay the inevitable.

Do it. Do it. Do it.

She tried the front door, the handle slick in her hand, her heart bobbling in her throat when it creaked open.

Oh fuck.

Her bowels knotted as she forced herself to step into the dark, cool house, keeping the wrench gripped tightly in her hand. She left the front door open, knew there was no way she could bring herself to close it.

She found herself in a long narrow hallway, stairs leading up to the left with doors open to the right, and she could see the kitchen at the end of the hall. There was an overpowering odour too. A staleness and… was that urine?

You can do this, Casey. One step at a time.

She tentatively crept further into the hallway, peering in the rooms.

The place was basically furnished. Whoever Psycho Steven was, he didn’t care much for décor, knick-knacks or family photos, and hygiene didn’t appear high on his list either. Walls and ceilings were covered in cobwebs and the furniture was covered in a layer of dust. On the floor by one of the sofas in the living room were a couple of glasses and a dirty plate, while the kitchen counters were full of crap and the sink loaded with food-splattered dishes.

Casey wondered if there was a better weapon she could find in the kitchen, hesitantly opening drawers, heart sinking when it became clear that all sharp objects had been hidden away, as if pre-empting that she would do that.

There was no sign of Amanda anywhere, which meant she was going to have to explore upstairs.

She wasn’t sure she was brave enough to do that, glancing up the dark, narrow staircase, terrified of what she might find up there.

You’re here now. You have to do this.

She put one cautious foot on the bottom step. Willed herself to keep climbing. As she was about halfway up, the stair creaked loudly, cutting through the silence, and she had to cover her mouth with her hand to stop screaming. She stilled for a moment, tried to find the courage to keep climbing. As she reached the landing, someone appeared before her and this time she did scream, legs shaking so badly she lost her footing, landing on her knees.

As she scrambled to her feet, her heart racing, so frightened she thought she was going to pass out, she realised there was a mirror at the top of the stairs. It had just been her reflection.

Momentary relief skittered through her, and she choked down on a sob. Then she spotted the words written on the glass.

In bold lettering and what appeared to be paint, possibly blood. She’s in the garden.

Did he mean Amanda was in the garden? Was this message for Casey?

It had to be.

She had spotted a couple of sheds outside, but not the kind of thing that looked like it could hold someone prisoner.

Not needing to be told twice, she hurried down the stairs and out of the front door, eager to be out of the creepy house, sucking in fresh air to try and expel the musty, dank, ammonic smell of the property.

Dusk was settling now and she looked at her car longingly, wanting nothing more than to get inside it and drive the hell away from this place. Her Sunday-night plans should have been so different to this and she would give anything to be cuddled up with Finn on the sofa.

Was he safe? Please, dear God, let him be safe. She had driven out here and had done exactly as Psycho Steven had asked. She just wanted this nightmare to be over, clinging to the hope that she could somehow find Amanda and get them both out of this.

Sucking in another breath, giving herself a pep talk that if she had been in the spooky hell-house, then the garden should be easy, she made her way round to the back of the property again, heading down towards the sheds.

She started with the bigger of the two, gingerly approaching and peering through the open door. It was dark inside and she gave her eyes a moment to adjust, though there was nothing of interest. There were a couple of pushbikes against the back wall, a wheelbarrow and some plastic sheeting on the floor. No trapdoors, no sign of Amanda. The second shed had a locked door, but was much smaller. She could see through the window that it was filled with boxes. There was no way Amanda was in there.

So where was she?

The tension was killing Casey and her head was thumping. She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take. As she wondered whether to call it quits, knew she had done everything that had been asked of her, she spotted what looked like a large manhole cover between the two sheds.

It was probably nothing, but it seemed an odd thing to have at the end of the garden and it didn’t seem like a standard one used by the water and sewage authorities, appearing much bigger in size, with a handle on top. More of a hatch really. Still Casey was drawn to it, knew she needed to check it out.

She gripped the handle, didn’t expect it to open, surprised when it did so easily, pulling back to reveal a set of stone steps that descended into darkness.

Shit. She didn’t have a torch. Really didn’t want to go down there.

‘Amanda?’ she called into the silence. Waited, her heart thumping.

Maybe she was wrong and this cellar, bunker, whatever the hell it was, would be empty. As she debated, trying to decide if she was brave enough to go down the steps, she heard a faint moan.

Oh fuck. She was down there.

Casey glanced back towards the house, still fearful of being attacked. There was no sign of anyone in the house. No lights on and Psycho Steven didn’t appear to be back, but even so, she knew he was probably watching her. If she went down the steps into whatever the hell was waiting for her, he or someone else could easily close the door and trap her.

But if she didn’t…

Seriously, what the fuck was she supposed to do?

The moan came again, this time louder, echoing up the steps. Shit.

Casey knew she had no choice. If Amanda was down there, she had to try and help her.

Careful not to trip, she slowly descended the steps, hands on the stone walls either side to try and keep balance, all the while concentrating on trying to keep her breathing steady. The last few steps were almost in darkness and when she reached the bottom, she glanced back up at the open hatch, could see the last remnants of daylight.

She imagined the door closing, being trapped down here in the pitch black and started to shake uncontrollably. She couldn’t do this.

You’re here now. You can’t leave.

‘Amanda?’ Her voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. She had no idea what was waiting for her down here, no idea how big this place was either.

More moaning.

Without the aid of light, Casey had to feel her way along the wall towards the sound. The air was cold, damp and musty, and thick with the scent of sweat, fear and blood.

How many women had been trapped down here? Was Amanda Haines the first or had there been others?

Her arm brushed against something and she squealed, at first assuming it was a cobweb or insect. As it hit her again, though, she knew it was too heavy to be either. Was it a piece of rope or something? She fumbled with her fingers, caught hold of it, realising it was a thin cord. Was it a light switch? She gave it a gentle tug and a bare bulb flickered to life, casting a dull glow on the room.

Casey blinked rapidly, taking in her surroundings. One wall was lined with hooks of cuffs, chains and various restraints, another with a huge display cabinet that was filled with knives and other tools she assumed were used to torture. In the corner of the room was a coat stand full of overalls and what looked like plastic gowns, and next to that was a desk with a computer and printer on it, as well as a drill, a Norwich City Football Club mug filled with manky-looking liquid, and, rather randomly, a yellow stress ball with a smiley face. But it was the huge worktable that drew her attention – and the woman strapped down on top of it.

Amanda Haines.

Psycho Steven hadn’t been lying. She was here and she was still alive, though she looked like she had been through hell. Stripped down to her underwear, bloodied and bruised.

This was déjà vu and for a moment Casey was nineteen again and back in Steve Noakes’s workshop, horrified by what she had discovered. Last time, though, Amanda had been alert and pleading with Casey to free her. Now she barely looked up and her fight was gone. Psycho Steven had broken her.

What the hell had this been like for her? Kidnapped and tortured by Steve Noakes back when she was a university student, living a life of fear and dread because of what had happened, only to be taken again, locked down here in this dark, dank room with another psychopath.

She had left the woman alone in Steve Noakes’s workshop and had never forgotten that look of betrayal before she had replaced the blindfold and had gone to get help, even if her actions had resulted in Amanda being rescued.

‘Amanda?’ When there was no response, Casey touched her face, aware her own hand was trembling badly. ‘Amanda?’

The woman’s one good eye fluttered open, but like in the photo Psycho Steven had sent Casey, her spirit had gone.

‘I’m going to get you out of here.’

Brave words. Casey’s heart was pounding with fear, her stomach in knots, and she was aware she was struggling to keep her shit together.

She couldn’t see a key to the cuffs, wondering if they were perhaps in one of the desk drawers. If not, could she break into the display cabinet and use pliers or a saw? First though, she needed to try and get the tape off the woman’s mouth. It was wrapped tightly around her head and Casey wasn’t sure she could remove it without pulling out Amanda’s hair, but she could at least get it off her mouth so she could speak.

She managed to get her finger under the tape, giving it a tug, and Amanda winced in pain, made a little moaning noise in the back of her throat.

‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’

She needed a knife to cut the tape loose, knew she had to get into the display cabinet. Could she smash the glass with her wrench?

‘I’ll be back in a second,’ she murmured, wandering away from the table.

Amanda didn’t react and Casey knew time was running out for her, that she needed to get the woman to safety as quickly as possible.

She smashed the wrench against the display cabinet, readying herself for the shatter of glass. The weapon didn’t make a dent though, surprising her as it bounced back. Frustrated, she tried again, harder.

Nothing.

Had the bastard used some kind of toughened glass?

Okay, think, Casey. Figure this out.

‘I need to find the keys to that cabinet,’ she muttered, as much to herself as to Amanda.

She went to the desk, tried the top drawer. It was unlocked and she fumbled through several pairs of goggles and surgical gloves, coming up empty. The second drawer held reels of duct tape, so she turned her attention to the bottom drawer, her throat constricting when she spotted the photographs. She picked them up, sick to her stomach as she leafed through them.

Various women, some strapped down on the table where Amanda was, others hanging from their wrists, all in various states of undress, many of them sporting cuts and bruises, others with bags over their heads or a rope around their neck.

Ohmigod, ohmigod.

Casey was trembling so badly now, the fear threatening to engulf her. She had to get Amanda out of here, had to get help, but how?

The crunch of a footstep came from behind her and she swung around, eyes widening in horror, her brain trying to comprehend.

‘What are you…’ She trailed off, realisation sinking in. It wasn’t possible.

The figure held up a set of keys and smiled. ‘Are you looking for these?’