Hell's Glen: A Thrilling and Fast-Pace Gritty Romantic-Suspense Read online

  HELL’S GLEN

  H.J. RUSSELL

  CONTENTS

  Warning

  Prologue

  Genesis

  Job

  James

  Ruth

  Mark

  Immanuel

  Acts

  Valley of the shadow of death

  Lamentations

  End of days

  Revelation

  Exodus

  Epilogue

  A Note to the Reader

  Acknowledgments

  For Willeen & Bill

  ‘O wad some Power the giftie gie us

  To see oursels as ithers see us!’

  ROBERT BURNS

  (What a powerful gift it would be to see ourselves as others see us)

  WARNING

  This story contains information about sexual assault and/or violence which may be distressing to some audiences, but is essential to the plot. Reader discretion is advised.

  PROLOGUE

  “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

  MATTHEW 27:46

  Kathryn

  Kathryn was allowed to take the path leading to the loch but she was forbidden to walk through the woods after school. Her mother would be angry if she knew she’d risked it. If her mum was sober.

  She picked her way over the icy path. Regular walkers in these woods, she and the dog knew the trail well.

  “C’mon Frisky” she called, seeing how far behind the elderly sheepdog had fallen.

  She felt a stab of sadness watching him hobble through the glassy ditches, his long coat streaked with mud. He’d never been an energetic dog, even as a puppy, but at ten he’d slowed and she felt guilty for having taken him the long route. She’d needed the solace of the woods and an escape from the atmosphere at home after another argument between her mum and Phil. Mum was blind drunk and he was yelling at her and, although this wasn’t unusual, the slap was. Kathryn had frozen in the hallway and listened as the beating escalated. When she heard dull thuds followed by grunts from her mother, she’d fled with the dog. At thirteen, she felt powerless against her stepfather.

  After an hour of trudging between Scots pines in freezing temperatures, she was regretting not having swapped her footwear for something better than ankle boots. The path beneath her feet was slippery and she’d already fallen once. She followed the trail that led onto the top of the ridge and, when she reached the summit, she looked down over the steep gorge below where the river gouged a scar through the Avon valley. The wind whipped her hair and obscured her view, and she pulled the collar of her jacket against the cold.

  Frisky’s yelp startled her. He’d tumbled several feet down the incline and was struggling to get back up. She backtracked gingerly along the rough path, sliding on sheets of ice between the troughs. As she neared the dog, she slipped and fell hard. She heard the crack before pain shot through her ankle. Screaming, she slid down the banking, grasping at bramble tendrils before coming to rest in a small thicket of rhododendron bushes. She tried to sit up but the pain in her foot was excruciating and she gasped. She lay on her side, clasping her ankle, and sobbed as Frisky paced and barked on the ridge above. When the pain ebbed to a throb and she’d caught her breath, she wiped her face with her sleeve and attempted to pull herself up the banking using the roots and branches. Blood poured between her lacerated fingers.

  She heard Phil’s voice before she spotted him next to the dog and she froze.

  Oh, please God, no!

  Her step-father peered around the wood and the gorge below then called to her that he was on his way. Frisky barked and snarled but he ignored him. Phil was tall and powerfully built, and he’d no trouble in reaching her in his walking boots. Her heart thumped in her chest as he crouched beside her. She caught a strong whiff of stale body odour and alcohol; his jeans were ripped and his unkempt hair was greasy. Casting beady eyes over her, his gaze settled on the exposed flesh of her thigh where her tights had torn. She shied away and tried to pull down her school skirt.

  “Can you stand?” he asked, extending a hand.

  Kathryn shook her head. “Think my ankle’s broken.”

  Scrubbing a hand over his unshaven chin, he looked around the thicket and the incline above. He stood up and stared at her as she lay helpless at his feet. The shadows had lengthened but the chill she felt was from his leer. She shuffled away from him, grasping at the undergrowth, the fright and pain making her cry out.

  He seized her by her good ankle and pulled her deeper into the thicket, and she clawed at the earth and branches.

  And then she screamed.

  GENESIS

  “This is my comfort in my affliction, that your promise gives me life.”

  PSALM 119:50

  Kathryn

  Ten years later - January, Scotland

  Pulling up the hood of her jacket against the sleet, Kathryn walked to the train station for her daily commute. She called into the local corner-shop, disappointed to see Abdul wasn’t serving. She liked Abdul; he always had a smile and a friendly word, and he placed her change on the counter. This guy was new and he’d a feral look about him that made her uneasy. It was something about the eyes, the way they roved over her, and his wolfish grin. It reminded her of … she brushed the thought aside with a shiver. The shop was empty and a prickle of awareness trickled down her spine as his gaze followed her. When he ducked beneath the counter and made a beeline for her, she fled.

  Heart pounding in her chest, she sprinted to the train station. The platform was quiet, one of the reasons she always left early for work. She hated packed trains, preferring to get up at half past five rather than face a crush of bodies.

  Half an hour later, she arrived at the headquarters of the Alba Mutual Society in Glasgow. She lowered her hood as she walked through the marble foyer towards the lifts. A man in a dark wool coat loitered in front of the doors, and he nodded a greeting. Ignoring him, she pulled her hair over her face and stared at the floor. The doors opened and he stepped inside and turned, his finger on the hold button. She glanced around; there was no one else.

  “You getting in?” he asked, throwing her a curious look.

  Shaking her head, she stepped back and let the lift doors close. She took the stairs to the fifth floor, where she swiped her door card and entered Alba Mutual’s office. She’d worked here for almost two years, first as a temp doing admin, and then as assistant to the Head of IT, Tod Grantham. During the pandemic, she’d preferred working from home to being in the office. She loathed Tod but he’d given her the opportunity to work as a trainee software developer after she’d begged him for the position. Having left school with no qualifications, this was her chance to get a foot on the career ladder. But only if she passed the probationary period.

  Almost three months into the role, she was delivering high-quality work well ahead of schedule and George, her team leader, had already approved her probation. Tod hadn’t, and he’d put a meeting in her calendar to discuss it. She dreaded the thought of being alone in a room with him, knowing of his reputation.

  She went to the toilet and examined her reflection in the mirror, wondering what she’d done to attract the attention of the man in the shop. Although she’d no boyfriend, she wore a wedding ring on her left hand which had belonged to her mother, and its presence was usually enough to deter an advance. She wore no makeup or perfume and her oversized clothing concealed her slender figure. Maybe it was the hair? Pulling her light brown tresses in a curtain around her face, she considered cutting it short. But then she wouldn’t be able to hide behind it. She ya
nked her baggy jumper over her hands and down over her hips. Nothing attractive here, she thought.

  After making a mug of strong tea in the staff kitchen, she sat at her desk and switched on her computer. As it whirred to life, she checked the personal mail on her phone. Scotty had sent her a message.

  [Scotty] Hey Moniker, when you meeting with fuck-knuckle?

  Kathryn chuckled. Scotty was one of her online friends. She didn’t know his real name, and he didn’t know hers. Although they’d never met in person, she and Scotty had known each other for many years after he’d rocked up in a Star Trek chat room. An infamous ‘flamer’, he’d been thrown out of dozens of forums for his sneering tirades and fiery invective. She adored his humour and never took offence, knowing he did it for a laugh or, in Internet parlance, the ‘lulz’.

  She typed a reply.

  [Moniker] This afternoon when everyone’s gone home. Eek!

  [Scotty] F-king dungjack better offer you the job or we’ll be coming for the balding, attention-seeking douche bag

  [Moniker] Its not the job offer that worries me

  After sending Scotty a smiley face, she checked no one was around and then hacked into Alba’s personnel files. When she’d started as a temp, she’d heard gossip about the sexual harassment claims made against Tod, and she knew of his extra-marital relationship with Jane in Human Resources. But so far he’d kept his nose clean and he’d been promoted up the ranks in IT where few women worked. Kathryn spotted a new entry in his file detailing an allegation from Sandra, his current assistant. In her early twenties, Sandra was quiet, single and pretty; exactly the type of woman he’d prey upon.

  She closed the files as people began to arrive in the office. The morning passed quickly and she delivered her code, fully tested and ready for quality assurance. She took lunch at her desk and made a start on her next task. One of the perks of working in IT was a half day on a Friday, and George and her colleagues wished her a good weekend as they packed up and left. She glanced at her watch realising her meeting with Tod was in a few minutes. Resentful of being kept back on a Friday and eager not to be alone with him, she’d tried to move it to earlier but Tod had declined.

  With her stomach feeling as though it was full of snakes, she walked slowly through the deserted floor towards his large corner office. Tod glanced up when she knocked and entered.

  “Take a seat Miss Sinclair,” he said getting up from behind his desk.

  “It’s Ms.”

  Tod’s sartorial choices had yet to evolve beyond Top Man and his cheap blue suit hung limply on his skinny frame. She recalled one of the women remarking that there’s wasn’t much meat on those bones for his wife and mistress to get hold of. She also remembered her grandmother’s words about how you could tell a man from his shoes; what would she have made of Tod’s brown pointy brogues? Tod picked up a manilla folder from his desk, on top of which sat a row of scrabble letters in a wooden holder that spelt The Boss.

  Before joining her at the table, he closed the venetian blinds on the window overlooking the IT floor. He pulled up a chair opposite her, leant back and laced his fingers behind his head. Kathryn drew back in her chair and tugged on the sleeves of her sweater as his eyes swept over her and settled on her chest. She curled her shoulders in around herself and glanced at him through her curtain of hair.

  Sighing, he said “So MIZZ Sinclair, your probation period’s up next Friday. How do you think you’ve performed?”

  She swallowed and in a shaky voice replied, “Uhm, well, I’ve completed all my work within the deadlines, and George seems happy with it.”

  Unclasping his hands, he bent towards her and raised an eyebrow. “But it’s not just about the work, is it?”

  Frowning, she said, “Err, how do you mean? I’ve done everything asked of me.”

  He gave a dark chuckle and shook his head. “Not quite, my dear. You’re not easy to get along with.” He opened the folder and began to read, “Doesn’t socialise, lacks self-confidence, not a team player.”

  She gawped at him. “No one’s said anything to me.”

  “They’re not likely to if they find you unapproachable.” He fixed her with his gaze. “I can’t approve your probation until you demonstrate that you can be a lot friendlier towards your colleagues.” He bent closer, “So how about you start now?”

  With horror she saw him lock the door, stand in front of her and begin to lower his zipper.

  “Show me how friendly you can be,” he said, his voice slurring. “Then I’ll sign off your probation.”

  Her heart thumped in her chest and she gasped for air. Shaking, she tried to get up. He pushed her shoulders down and stood before her as he fumbled with his underwear. She twisted her head away and gripped the chair for support. Frozen, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream.

  There was a knock on the door and a woman’s voice, “Tod, you in there?” The handle turned. Another knock.

  Cursing under his breath, he zipped himself up and glowered at Kathryn. In a low voice, he said, “We’ll continue this discussion next week.”

  With an expansive smile, he opened the door and greeted Jane from HR. Pretty and petite with short platinum hair, she glanced from one to the other and shot Tod a questioning look.

  “Come in,” said Tod. “We were just discussing Kathryn’s career progression but we’ve finished now.” Turning to Kathryn, he smiled. “Have a lovely weekend, Kathryn.”

  Trembling, she pushed past Jane and fled.

  “Jesus, who’s rattled your cage?” asked Chris as he stumbled backwards under the onslaught.

  Kathryn and Chris were training at the dojo as they did most Friday afternoons. The hall was empty except for them, and he held a foam punching pad against his chest for her to kick. Chris was one of few friends she had outside of cyberspace. They’d met when she was fifteen after her grandmother had encouraged her to take up karate, and they’d risen through the belts together. Now as senior grades, they were putting in extra practice ahead of the imminent black belt grading.

  Winding up for another roundhouse kick, she unleashed her back leg with a thud on the pad and a grunt from Chris.

  “I’m furious at myself,” she muttered.

  He put down the pad. “What’s up?”

  They sat at the back of the hall and she explained what had happened with her boss, and why she couldn’t report him to the HR department since he was sleeping with the manager. She told him how much she needed the job and why she couldn’t just up and leave.

  “Sleazy bastard,” fumed Chris, “want me to have a quiet word with him?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve been training for years and I bloody froze. Couldn’t move. What use is training if I can’t stand up for myself?”

  He took a slug from his water bottle and regarded her. “If you hadn’t been interrupted, you might have kicked him in the happy sacks.” Seeing her unconvinced expression, he added “Don’t be too hard on yourself, he’s the one to blame.”

  She sent him a rueful smile.

  After a pause he asked, “Want to come for a drink with me tonight?”

  “Sorry, can’t, I’m busy.”

  He sighed and gazed heavenwards. “You’re busy every night … well, every night I ask you out. Say yes, just this once.”

  Chris had been asking her out for as long as she’d known him and she always refused. It wasn’t that he was unattractive – the opposite in fact – but he was her only friend in the real world and she didn’t want to ruin that. And he didn’t want for girlfriends; he seemed to have an endless string of admirers who never lasted more than a few weeks. Each time he finished with one, he’d ask Kathryn out. Recently he’d become more persistent.

  “I just want to be friends,” she said.

  Chris tossed his karate belt into his kit bag. “Exactly, we’re friends and we get along, it’s a good basis.”

  Kathryn picked at a thread on her karate suit. “Let’s not spoil what we have.”

&n
bsp; She glanced up to meet his hurt blue gaze.

  His voice dropped to a low whisper. “You know how I feel about you. But in all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never once had a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Just give me a chance.” His eyes searched her face.

  Tears brimmed in hers. “I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t like you … I just can’t give you what you want.”

  She grabbed her kit bag and hurried home.

  The bungalow lay in darkness and Kathryn made a mental note to put some lights on a timer switch. Since her grandmother had died, she hated returning to a cold, empty house, and now the cat had disappeared, it was worse. She missed Psi’s furry body winding itself around her ankles, even if it was just to remind her that he needed feeding.

  After pouring herself a glass of wine, she searched the fridge for a ready-meal. As she waited on the microwave’s ping, she thought about Chris. She was fond of him and he was the only male she felt comfortable alone with, but she did not want him as a boyfriend. She didn’t want anyone, and the thought of being with a man in that way made her shudder.

  Haphephobia, her counsellor called it, the fear of being touched, together with genophobia, the fear of sexual intercourse. Knowing the medical terms did nothing to lessen the panic, terror and dread associated with them. At her next therapy session with Rosemary, she needed to discuss how she’d frozen in fear in Tod’s office, and her anxiety at the thought of dating Chris, a man she liked and trusted. Tonight, however, there was a more immediate matter to attend to.