#2 In The Dark

Chap. 8_hydraulic boxes and plosive thuds

Sarah span around.

She'd finally worked it out. And she'd done it without any help.

Rob had brought her and Frank here. He'd planned everything, down to the smallest detail, hiring actors to play the horribly vacuous characters that stood before her. He'd known she couldn't look at the bodies, so he had, and told her lies about how the bodies had been killed. He'd hired some hideous person to talk to them through a speaker, increasing pressure and terror through her.

He'd abused their friendship. He'd abused her trust in him. And she now needed to find out why.

There was still the throng of 'actors' assembled at the other end of the room. Huw, Alison, Mary and Russell, along with the three Babbitts and the girls.

They stayed engrossed in each other's company, rabidly chatting away, just quiet enough so that Sarah couldn't hear. She still had Frank and Rob behind her, but she wanted to keep her back to them as she needed to keep the irrepressible smile from showing to Rob.

He didn't know she'd figured it out. And that's how it was going to remain until she'd figured out how everything was done and why.

She didn't like the fact that she still wanted to show him how smart she was.

And as she turned around the smirk faded into a puzzled expression again, recommencing the conversation at once.

"So we're left with Eve," she said, without a hint of change in her tone.

"It seems that way," Rob remarked loudly. "Do you think Russell will know anything?" He gestured towards the group of ten, and his voice echoed towards them. They looked back at him, and Rob and Frank too.

"Do you need to talk to me, O wise three?" Russell called over, the last three words fuelled with derision.

"If you don't mind, Russell," Stark replied with a friendly smile. If she could keep Rob in the dark for as long as possible, then she might have a chance of figuring out what his intentions were.

He shrugged and walked over. And as he did, Frank noticed something in his pocket.

"What've you got there, Russell?" Frank asked him, gently.

"Oh this?" he said, pulling out a bloody knife from his jacket pocket, "Well, I'd thought to myself, if I got out of here alive, then I'd want to know who killed my Evie. It's got DNA, you see. And I deserve to know."

Tears started to roll down his cheek again. I'm not going to lie here, but he's a good actor. There's genuine emotion for him.

Frank walked towards him; Russell had stopped in his tracks at the mention of the knife, and was now sitting down on the closest table. Frank wondered why Sarah hadn't gone to comfort him, but she might be thinking. Or stressed. Or both. So he decided to do the job for her.

"This is a throwing knife, you know?" he said, through streams of tears. "I lived in America for twenty years, and joined their army corps when I was young. I've seen these. Vietnam, mainly. But it brings back memories-"

And the emotion cut him off again. But that was some vital information.

"Do you think it was thrown?" Rob asked Sarah, leaning in at a whisper.

"I don't know how it could have been," she replied quickly, composed, "We were all in the circle. And there's no way in and no way out."

But her feeling of relief changed suddenly into confusion. Because Rob was now wearing a smile. And not any old smile. Rob was wearing the smile that he wore when he'd figured something out.