The Victim Read online

  Also by Max Manning

  Don’t Look Now

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  Books. Change. Lives.

  Copyright © 2019 by Max Manning

  Cover and internal design © 2019 by Sourcebooks

  Cover design by Elsie Lyons

  Cover images © Hanka Steidle/Arcangel Images, ilolab/Shutterstock

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published by Sourcebooks Landmark, an imprint of Sourcebooks

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  sourcebooks.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Manning, Max, author.

  Title: The victim : a novel / Max Manning.

  Description: Naperville, Illinois : Sourcebooks Landmark, [2019]

  Identifiers: LCCN 2018052448 | (trade paperback : alk. paper)

  Subjects: LCSH: Psychological fiction. | GSAFD: Suspense fiction.

  Classification: LCC PR6113.A5553 V53 2019 | DDC 823/.92--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018052448

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  1

  2

  3

  4: Surrender

  5: Fight

  6: Surrender

  7: Fight

  8: Surrender

  9: Fight

  10: Surrender

  11: Fight

  12: Surrender

  13: Fight

  14: Surrender

  15: Fight

  16: Surrender

  17: Fight

  18: Surrender

  19: Fight

  20: Surrender

  21: Fight

  22: Surrender

  23: Fight

  24: Surrender

  25: Fight

  26: Surrender

  27: Fight

  28: Surrender

  29: Fight

  30: Surrender

  31: Fight

  32: Surrender

  33: Fight

  34: Surrender

  35: Fight

  36: Surrender

  37: Fight

  38: Surrender

  39: Fight

  40: Surrender

  41: Fight

  42: Surrender

  43: Fight

  44: Surrender

  45: Fight

  46: Surrender

  47: Fight

  48: Surrender

  49: Fight

  50: Surrender

  51: Fight

  52: Surrender

  53: Fight

  54: Surrender

  55: Surrender

  56: Surrender

  57: Surrender

  Excerpt from Don’t Look Now

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Reading Group Guide

  A Conversation with the Author

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  For Albert and Sean

  1

  The danger instinct, a twist in your gut, an inner voice whispering “Beware.”

  The fine hairs on Gem Golding’s forearms prickle as she slows down and turns off the main road. Graffiti-scarred walls and a shuttered fried chicken shop glide past the passenger window. The area feels more run-down than she remembers. Darkness can do that, she thinks.

  She drives slowly into the dimly lit parking lot, pulls up, and switches off the engine. The only other vehicle is parked closer to the store, its rear window shattered. For a moment, a sense of foreboding makes Gem consider putting the keys back in the ignition and leaving. Harsh fluorescent light spills through the store’s glass door, and she’s reassured by the sight of two youths in hooded tops and a middle-aged woman lined up at the register inside.

  She climbs out and is about to lock up when her cell phone rings. She stops and rummages in the bottom of her bag. Without having to check the screen, she knows it’s Drew.

  “Where are you?” he says. “I thought you’d be home by now.”

  His concern is touching, and she smiles to herself. “Sorry. Something came up. You know how it is. I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Just picking up those painkillers.”

  “Headache no better, then?”

  “Worse. Much worse.”

  “You work too hard,” he says. “You know you don’t need to.” Gem can hear the disapproval in his voice. “Drive carefully,” he says.

  “I always do,” she answers and drops the phone back into her bag. From the corner of her eye, she glimpses movement and spins around. The man is two, maybe three inches taller than she is, and he doesn’t slow as he walks toward her. There is something unsettling about the way he moves. Menace in every stride.

  “Lovely car you’ve got there,” he says with a nod.

  He doesn’t come to a halt until he is standing right in front of her. Close. Too close. Gem tries to walk around him. He steps to the side, blocking her way.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she says, shuffling back to get as close as she can to the driver’s-side door.

  He doesn’t answer her question. His lips twist into a mocking smile, and he moves forward. In her confusion, Gems wonders whether he has mistaken her for someone else.

  She tries to walk away, but he blocks her again, and this time, she feels a surge of panic. “I’m meeting my boyfriend. He’ll be here any second now.”

  The stranger ignores her, stepping in until she’s trapped, his arms braced against the car on either side of her body. Gem’s heart pounds. She wants the power of anger, but a cold fear grips her instead. She grabs her bag in both hands and offers it to him.

  “My phone and money are in there. Please just take it and go.”

  He says nothing but swings a forearm. The blow sends the bag flying. It spins to the ground, spilling its contents. His silence is frightening. He’s so close, Gem can see the dark shadow of stubble on his chin, feel his breath on her face. Sweat trickles down the small of her back. She raises her hands to ward him off, pressing her fingertips hard against his chest. His smile widens into a leer.

  “What do you want?” she says. Her voice sounds different. Too high and shaky.

  “What do you
think I want?”

  Gem shoves harder, forcing him to take half a step back. “Leave me alone.”

  The leer vanishes. He grabs her wrists and pins her against the car. Over his shoulder, she spots the hooded teenagers emerging from the store, each carrying a six-pack of beer.

  Before she can call for help, he whips his right hand over her mouth and jams his left forearm across her throat. At the same time, he presses his body so hard against hers that from the other side of the parking lot, they look like lovers fumbling in the dark.

  The youths glance over and snicker as they saunter toward the exit gate.

  The man puts his mouth to Gem’s ear. “Keep your mouth shut. Do what you’re told, and you won’t get hurt. I only want the car.”

  He takes his hand away, and she sucks in the cold night air. He grabs both her wrists again and twists the skin. She grits her teeth to stop herself from crying out. Her heart thumps hard against its cage, and her mind races. He can have the car. It’s only a car. She is still holding the keys. She offers them up. “Take it and go,” she says. “I don’t care. Get away from me.”

  He snatches the fob from her hand and slips it into his jacket pocket. There is no way she’s going to risk getting hurt for a car, but she’s not going to let him get away with this. That’s never going to happen. She’ll see to it that he’s caught and punished.

  When the police ask for a description, she’ll be ready. He must be at least six feet tall. His hat is pulled so low, she can’t see any hair, but his eyebrows look black or brown. His nose is straight, his jaw strong, but the darkness disguises the color of his eyes. Underneath an unzipped black jacket, he’s wearing a white T-shirt.

  Sliding his right hand down and off her wrist, his fingers encircle hers, and he crushes them until she cries out. “Don’t look at me,” he hisses. “I said stop looking at me, and I told you to stay quiet. I have a knife. Don’t make me use it.”

  Gem’s throat tightens. He has a knife. Dipping her head to one side, she scans the ground, desperately searching for her phone. She spots it behind him, next to a pound coin and her lipstick.

  “Please take the car and go,” she says. “I promise I won’t call the police.” Her head spins as she tries to remember everything she’s ever heard or read about surviving a violent attack.

  Her thoughts are a jumble of contradictions. Resist, shout, and scream, and you risk inciting the attacker. Fight back when the opportunity arises, and you have a better chance of escaping unharmed. Do everything you are ordered to do, appease your attacker, and you are more likely to get off lightly. Surrender completely, and you might increase your chances of being hurt.

  She braces herself against the car door and pushes. He is caught by surprise and staggers slightly. Maybe I can do this, she thinks.

  “You bitch,” he whispers, slamming her back so viciously, her head whiplashes against the car’s roof.

  That was stupid, she tells herself. Don’t be so stupid. Do what he says. Let him win. Then he’ll go. It takes every ounce of her willpower, but she makes her muscles relax, lets herself fall limp and helpless. Now he has no reason to be angry with her. He’s won. There’s no need for him to even think about harming her.

  2

  He feels her resistance fade and nods to himself. He knows he should be behind the wheel of the car and on his way by now, but he’s having too much fun. The parking lot is dark and deserted, but he glances quickly over his shoulder before dragging her around the hood to the passenger side, where they’ll be hidden from anyone coming out of the store.

  She allows him to lead her in silence, her body language meek, like a lamb to the slaughter. It took some time, but she’s got the message. Gripping her wrists tighter, he gives the car a quick once-over. It’s a few years old, but he estimates that the BMW is still probably worth at least twenty-five thousand pounds. Stripped for parts, it could easily make a chop shop a decent pile of cash. He knows people who would pay him well for the chance to slice it up, but that’s not the plan. Not tonight.

  “You’re hurting me,” she says. “You promised you wouldn’t.”

  He relaxes his grip and smiles. “I did, didn’t I?”

  She gives him a strange look, a mixture of relief and terror. It makes him want to laugh. How can she afford to drive a car like that? A high-flying job in the city? Her stinking rich boyfriend?

  He suspects she’s been dealt all the good cards in life. He got the joker, but he stopped joking a long time ago. He’d met people like her before and hated the unfairness of it all. Probably never had to fight for anything in her life. Never been tested. Things were about to change.

  He widens his smile, willing her to smile back. She tries her best, but it turns into a grimace. Her teeth are so white, they almost glow in the dark. Her face is symmetrical and heart-shaped, her dark hair shoulder length. We’re about the same age, he thinks. Would she look at me twice if we passed in the street? Maybe, he tells himself. If things were different, we’d probably be a good match. The injustice of it boils his blood.

  3

  Gem feels his breath hot on her neck. Has he really got a knife? she wonders. The thought makes her shiver. She imagines the weapon, heavy in his jacket pocket. A smooth handle, a curving blade, impatient to be used. Maybe he’s lying about the knife to scare me into obedience, to control me. Lying or not, it’s working.

  His breathing speeds up, and something brushes the top of Gem’s right thigh. Fingers slide up to the waistband of her trousers and back to her leg. She risks a glance at him. His eyes are closed. Her face burns with humiliation.

  This is not supposed to happen, she tells herself. She wishes she’d taken the time to consider how to react in this situation, to have carefully planned her response. No one thinks it’s going to happen to them. It’s not something anyone wants to imagine.

  Maybe there is a way. Get him talking. Reason with him. Anything not to have to make the big decision. Surely someone will walk by soon, see what’s happening, and call the police.

  “Please don’t,” she pleads. “You said you wanted the car. You can have it. Take it.”

  He pulls away a little. Hope flares in her chest. She babbles her words. Eager to get them out.

  “I know you don’t want to hurt me. Why would you? You don’t look like a bad person. Please don’t harm me. I’m having a baby. Please don’t hurt my baby.”

  That is a lie, but maybe it will work. She’s willing to try anything. She isn’t pregnant, but Drew wants her to be. He’d be so happy if she had a baby and gave up her job. She made it clear that she wants to wait. Seven months together isn’t long enough to know that it’s right, she told him. He sulked for days.

  The carjacker grabs a handful of her hair, pulls her head back, and looks into her eyes. “I know you’re lying,” he says softly. “You think I’m stupid.” There is no hint of a question. It’s a definite statement.

  “It’s true. I wouldn’t lie about something like that. I’m having a baby. I’m eight weeks pregnant. I am.” He shakes his head slowly, and she knows her bluff isn’t going to work.

  “You’re lying,” he says. “But you know what? Even if you are having a baby, do you think I care? Do you think that makes a difference? Get this. I don’t give a shit. You think you’re too smart for me, don’t you? Keep me talking until someone comes to the rescue, is that the plan? Let me tell you something. It’s dark and not many people walk the streets around here at this time of night. It’s dangerous.”

  He pulls her hair harder, but she doesn’t flinch. She’s focused on getting out of this unharmed. He promised she wouldn’t get hurt if she does what he says, but can someone who threatens to use violence be trusted not to be violent? She doesn’t think so. If she lashes out, tries to fight him off, there’s no telling what he might do.

  Be sensible, everyone says. Don’t put yourself in danger. Don’
t walk the streets at night on your own. Make sure your cell phone is always charged. Keep the car doors locked. She hears these words of advice. From her parents. From Drew. Drive carefully. Take care.

  She doesn’t remember being told what to do if someone grabs her in the dark, tells her he’ll stab her if she doesn’t do exactly as he says. Her eyes fill with tears, but she blinks them back. She knows they won’t help. She takes a deep breath and tries to reason with him again. “Please just take the car and leave me alone. I won’t report it missing. I won’t claim the insurance. Please, I’d like you to have it. You can take it.” His fingers dig harder into her flesh. She winces.

  “You’re going to let me take the car? Wow, that’s so kind of you. Amazing.”

  For a second, his words confuse her, then she sees the look in his eyes. His anger is cold. He is in control, and that scares her more. He yanks her forward, then shoves her back.

  “I’m so, so grateful. You’re such a lovely person, aren’t you?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “You think you have any choice in the matter?” he says, spitting out the words as if they tasted bad.

  Gem shakes her head. “Please leave me alone. You’re scaring me.”

  “People like you need scaring sometimes.”

  Everything inside her tells her this is the time to scream. To scream as loud as she can for as long as she can. She opens her mouth and throws her head back, but before she can make a sound, a large hand is clamped firmly over her lips. Her head is pushed back against the car, and she feels the length of his body pressed firmly against hers.

  “You stupid, stupid woman,” he says softly. “Why can’t you do what you’re told?”

  Gem’s mind whirs with the realization that this is the moment she hoped would never come. The decision has to be made. Total surrender, let him do whatever he wants and hope for the best, or refuse to be cowed, find a way to fight back, and prepare for the worst.

  4

  Surrender

  Gem the Victim

  Gem bent her knees slightly, breathed out slowly through her nose, and shrank back against the car. Let him feel you pose no threat, she told herself. Once he’s sure of that, he’ll calm down.