62
The man they’d known as Owen Samuels stood propped against the back wall, a sardonic smile crossing his face.
‘Oh dear,’ he said, his voice calm. ‘Too clever for my own good.’
Barely four or five feet in front of him, Alex Lawson stood on a wheeled office chair, his hands taped together, a piece of fabric stuffed in his mouth and a noose around his neck. Although he was trembling slightly, he seemed to be well aware that one wrong movement would send the chair skittering along the hardwood floor, hanging him in the process.
‘I wouldn’t come any closer,’ Owen said.
‘It’s okay. We’re staying right here,’ Caroline said, feeling rivulets of sweat starting to trickle down her back. ‘Is Sophie here too?’
‘No. I thought you were her arriving. She’ll be here any minute,’ Owen said, speaki
