The Busker: A gripping psychological thriller Read online

  The Busker

  M.J. Patrick

  Copyright © 2020 by M.J. Patrick

  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, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  Also by M.J. Patrick

  1

  His voice echoed her name over and over.

  Sally. Sally. Sally.

  His voice was echoing in her head.

  Sally bent over the grass, her body trying to throw up. She fought against the impulse. Don’t be sick, not now, not while she was still in danger, not while he might be nearby.

  Gagging over the grass, she remembered the taste of his mouth when he’d kissed her moments ago. She remembered his cold hands grabbing her face, the wetness of his lips as they pressed against hers, the sharp bitter taste of alcohol on his lips, and his darting tongue. She remembered how she turned away from him, how she ran from him, daring a look back to see the smirk on his face as the lift doors closed between them.

  Sally.

  He called out her name as the lift doors shut. He savoured the word in his mouth, the same mouth wrapped around her own just seconds earlier. She remembered the sound of his voice echoing down the hallway towards her, standing, in the lift.

  It was like he'd won a game, and Sally had lost. And now she couldn’t stop the echo of his voice in her head.

  She needed to hide. She needed to be safe from him.

  The moment the lift doors opened on the ground floor, Sally ran. She ran out of the building, and on to the street, past the empty beach, and up the hill. It only took her a few minutes, but it felt like a marathon. Sally didn’t stop running until she’d made it to the very crest of the hill, to the edge of the cliff overlooking the city. The stars shone above the ocean before her. On her left, the city rose up in the distance, its lights penetrating the night sky.

  She couldn’t stop the voice echoing in her head, not even when she’d made it to the top of the hill. In anger, she took off her shoes and threw them over her shoulder towards the path. On the edge of the cliff, Sally flexed her toes. She dug them into the dry soil, trying to calm herself. But he was still out there, and in her head he was still calling her name.

  The night’s darkness obscured the waves far below her, but, like a steady drumbeat, she could hear them rumble in and out. In and out. In and out.

  Sally. Sally. Sally.

  She should’ve told him no, she should’ve been assertive. Instead, she’d chosen to run away from him like a coward. What would her Dad think? Sally, yet again, running away from her problems.

  Was he following her? Was he running all the way behind her to the top of the hill? He’d love that, a dog chasing a scent. She gagged again, the memory of his face, his lips, his tongue, making her sick.

  There was no way he knew where she was now unless he’d run after her. No way he knew she was up here, but she was still scared.

  A new pain started to throb in her forehead. She stood and rubbed at her temples. A new headache. Great. Maybe she was drunk, that night she’d had a few drinks, but this wasn’t the haze of alcohol.

  This was panic.

  Sally slid her bare feet closer to the cliff’s edge until they dangled over. She could taste the ocean salt in the air. She hoped it’d remove the memory of his tongue in her mouth, his wet lips, his flavour. She hoped to forget the sound of his voice calling her name.

  Listening to the roar of the ocean, Sally closed her eyes, and felt her hair rustle in the wind. Her dress billowed. Quiet.

  Standing there, on the edge of the cliff, she thought she was safe. She thought she was hidden from him. She thought she was alone.

  She was wrong.

  She didn’t know he was standing there behind her, she didn’t know he was watching her take in a deep breath, she didn’t know he was taking her in with his eyes.

  He spoke. ‘You look like someone who needs this.’

  Startled by his voice, Sally slipped and her feet skidded on the edge of the cliff. Her toes cut on pebbles as she failed to find a grip on the cold soil.

  Her arms fumbled in the empty air, searching for anything to stop her fall. Her arms searched for something, anything, to stop her spinning off the side of the cliff. She pictured herself flailing all the way down and splitting on the rocks below, her body washing into the ocean, sinking into the deep darkness. Gone forever.

  She threw herself backwards and away from the edge, away from death.

  Her fingers spread, reaching for the soil she knew would be there, must be there. Her back was the first part of her body to hit the ground, and it hit it hard. Her shoulders made contact, then her legs, and then the air shot out of her lungs. She coughed. Dazed. Through her dress, loose stones bit into her skin.

  Lying on the cold ground she swore, her voice emerging from her mouth as a whisper. It took a moment to understand what just happened. The voice had shocked her, and then she’d nearly died.

  ‘You okay?’ It was the voice again, penetrating the night air like a hammer. Deep and heavy. Violent.

  Male.

  Was it him? Had he found her, had he followed her up here?

  There was nowhere left for Sally to run. He’d blocked her in. No escape. She was running out of options. It was either him or a fall into the ocean below, and she didn’t want to fall. Only one choice. She turned and faced him. She had to get out of there.

  It was his lips she recognised first, then his hair, then his eyes, and then the way he lifted his hands. It was him. No way. Him?

  He spoke again, his hands raised in surrender.

  ‘Do you want one?’ he asked.

  He must’ve followed her. He must’ve known she was alone. Why else was he up here?

  ‘You?’ Sally muttered, shocked. She lifted herself so that her body rested on her elbows. Yeah, he’d blocked her against the cliff’s edge.

  He didn’t answer her.

  But she knew who he was. She’d first seen him just hours before, down in the city, down at the harbour. There was no way she could forget his face.

  He was the Busker.

  2

  Sally remembered when she’d first seen him, when she’d first seen the Busker. In the middle of the city, down along the promenade, down at the harbour.

  ‘I have a plan,’ Sally said to her friend as the bus doors hissed shut behind her. The bus engine rumbled as it pulled away from the curb, leaving Sally and Ashley alone at the bus
stop facing down the road to the harbour. Around them, rising up, the inner city skyscrapers blocked out the midday sun. They’d made it to the city centre.

  ‘Of course you have a plan,’ Ashley replied. She dropped her wheeled suitcase on the pavement with a thud. She swore at it, and pulled out its handle with a groan, her brown hair covering her face.

  ‘Are you okay with that thing?’ Sally asked. ‘It’s a big bag.’

  ‘Not everyone can pack as light as you, Sally. Some of us actually need more than a single pair of clothes on holiday,’ Ashley said.

  Sally pretended to laugh. ‘Very funny.'

  ‘It’s true,’ Ashley replied. ‘All you need is that backpack. I don't understand it.’

  ‘So, do you want to hear my plan?’ Sally asked. ‘Or should I go? You’re the one who wanted a photo, I am more than happy to go to the beach and forget about this.’

  ‘Alright, go ahead then, you nerd. What’s your brilliant plan?’

  Sally pointed down the road, through the square, at the bustling harbour. ‘If we’re going to get a good view for the photo we’re going to have to push through the crowd,’ she said. ‘We keep moving and we do not stop until we reach the railings. We take the photos, and we get out of here. Let’s do this fast so we can make it to the hostel in time for our check-in. Quick and easy. Does that sound good?’

  ‘Sounds good,’ Ashley replied, staring down at the harbour in trepidation. The masses of crowds gathering on the promenade and the fleet of ships in the harbour blocked any sight of the water. The place teemed with people. The harbour was larger than what they’d expected when they’d Googled it back home. ‘I hate tourists.’

  ‘Ashley, we are tourists.’

  ‘Whatever. You have to admit midday was the wrong time to come.’

  Sally frowned. ’Who was the one who wanted this photo? Oh, right, it was you. There’s no backing out now that you’ve dragged me here,’ she said. ‘You were the one who wanted the photo to make everyone at home jealous. The guide book did say this is tourist trap central. If you actually read it.’

  Ashley playfully punched Sally on the arm. ‘You know I didn’t read the guide book,’ she replied.

  ‘Of course you didn’t.’

  ‘And, yes, I do want everyone back home jealous. I did not fly halfway around the world to not upload a fantastic photo on Instagram.’

  Sally pulled down her backpack’s strap, tightening it around her shoulder. She took another glance at the harbour, watching the flags flying above the throng of tourists shuffling along the promenade that stretched for a circular mile around the quay. Down there, along the promenade, Sally could see restaurants, an art gallery, shops, parks, more bus stops. And, looming above behind them all in the distance, the famous bridge. Everything a tourist trap needed. ‘This is going to be hard, so let’s do this fast and get out of here quickly,’ she said. ‘I actually want to go to the beach sometime today.’

  ‘Whoa,’ Ashley snorted, restraining Sally with a hand on her shoulder. ‘We can’t take any photo. We didn’t come all this way for just any photo. The beach can wait.’

  ‘Fine. What is it you wanted again?’

  ‘You know what we need.’ Ashley brandished her phone from out her pocket. She jabbed her finger at Sally. ‘We need the bridge. Oh, and definitely the city skyline with all the buildings. We have to get those in. I’m not leaving here without a good photo. It needs to be just right.’

  ‘I get it, I get it. It has to be right.’

  ‘No,’ Ashley gripped Sally’s shoulder harder. ‘Not right. The photo has to be perfect.’

  ‘And why do we always have to do what you want?’ Sally asked.

  ‘Because you love me.’

  ‘You’re unbearable,’ Sally said, rolling her eyes. ‘Let’s get going before we waste any more time.’

  She looked up at Ashley, and she couldn't help but compare herself to her friend. Ashley was taller than Sally, her face more defined, from her nose to her cheekbones. Her gorgeous features. Ashley was the more conventionally attractive one of the pair, the one who acquired more attention, more interest from the boys. It'd been like that all through university. Sally knew she herself wasn't ugly or anything like that. She’d always been regarded as 'pretty', whatever that meant. But she wasn't sexy, or beautiful like Ashley. And Sally was okay with that. She did not need to be the centre of attention, she was happy to leave that to her friend, and Ashley absolutely relished it. If she was happy, Sally was happy.

  They’d first met when they were fourteen, both going to the same school. A maths teacher, irritated by Ashley's constant heckling from the back of the classroom, had sat them together, thinking Sally's opposite personality would help quiet Ashley. It didn't. Sally reckoned that's what drew them together. Their differences. Opposites attract and all that. Forced to sit together, they clicked, and they hadn't been separated since. Every party, every family event, Sally and Ashley were there, together. They even went to the same university, sharing a flat. Sally studied English Literature, and Ashley studied Accounting. Neither knew what they wanted to do with their courses. But they were together, and that was the important thing.

  As she tightened her backpack’s strap again, Sally noticed the pastel colour of her arms. Her and Ashley’s pale skin clearly marked them as foreign visitors in this tanned country. They must’ve really looked like two lost backpackers in an unknown city. Two twenty-two year old graduates seeing the world for the first time, flown in from the other side of the globe.

  The only way to reach the harbour promenade was through the square outside the main metro station. In the square, Ashley and Sally had to navigate around a bench sat on by a row of office workers eating their takeaway lunch.

  Sally stared at one of the men in suits on the bench as they passed. In his hands, he gripped a burger. His face reminded her of a boy in the year above at school. They shared the same long nose and curly hair. The last time she’d seen that boy from school was at the Funeral. It was there where he told Sally he really enjoyed her Dad’s history classes, that her Dad was the reason he was now studying history at university. At the Funeral, a few people had told her the same thing.

  Sally diverted her eyes to the ground, away from the sitting office worker. She flicked her long blonde hair over her shoulder. No. She shouldn’t be thinking of the Funeral. Not now, she told herself. Not ever.

  A hand seized Sally’s wrist from her side. It was a solid grip. She spun to face whoever it was. A man with an unkempt beard and tattered clothes. Homeless. His hand around her wrist squeezed tight, and her heart rate quickened. She was frozen.

  ‘Spare change?’ he asked. He presented his other hand in anticipation.

  Ashley grabbed Sally’s shoulder from the other side and glared at the homeless man. ‘We don’t have any money,’ she said.

  ‘Spare change?’ the man repeated, ignoring Ashley. He stared at Sally, one hand still holding on to her wrist and the other extended towards her.

  ‘Sally,’ Ashley whispered. ‘Let’s go.’

  Sally didn’t move. She couldn’t.

  ‘Spare change?’

  ‘We don’t have any,’ Ashley replied again. She tugged at Sally’s shoulder. ‘Forget about him, you wanted us to keep moving. Tell him no.’

  ‘Hang on, Ashley.’ Sally pulled her wrist free from the man and undid her backpack. ‘I’m sorry, we landed here an hour ago so we don’t have any change,’ she explained to him as she unzipped her bag and rummaged around inside until she found a pack of digestives and an unopened bottle of water, which she offered.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Ashley asked her, ignoring the man.

  ‘I have these though,’ Sally said to him, avoiding Ashley’s glare. She handed over the digestives and the water bottle. ‘I hope they’re okay.’

  The homeless man took them without a word and staggered away towards the sitting office workers. He started to beg them for change, his hand waving in front of their fac
es.

  ‘Why did you do that for?’ Ashley asked Sally when they reached the traffic crossing at the end of the square. They waited, part of a large crowd, for the traffic lights to change. ‘He could be a criminal.’

  ‘We don’t know that,’ Sally replied. ‘Besides, it doesn’t matter if he’s a criminal or what he’s done, he seemed pretty hungry to me.’

  ‘Look at you,’ Ashley nudged Sally with her elbow. ‘You’re such a saint.’

  ‘Shut up.’

  It wasn’t just because the homeless man looked hungry to Sally that she’d handed him food and water, she was actually afraid of not being able to say no to him. She didn’t want Ashley to know how afraid of the man she’d been. How scared.

  The traffic lights flicked from green to red, and the pedestrian signal beeped. They crossed the road from the square to the promenade circulating around the quay. Sally braced herself as they walked into the crowd gathered ahead. Tourist trap central. They were now at the harbour.

  It’d been Ashley that suggested they went straight here from the airport. In the comfort of the air-conditioned airport, Sally had agreed to her friend’s idea. Now, crossing the busy city road in the heat, Sally regretted saying yes.

  All Sally wanted to do was go to the beach, and the only way now was to get this photoshoot done.

  3

  From the moment the plane had touched the airport runway Ashley had been talking non stop about how she was going to get the perfect photo for Instagram. The success of the entire holiday hinged on it.