Captive in Crete: The First Jet Wilson Cozy Mystery (Jet Wilson Cozy Mysteries Book 1) by Lyssa Stanson (phonics story books .txt) 📗

was on high. He only had me by the feet, and he had been winded too. I managed to get one foot free and kicked him, hard, in the head. He rolled over, clutching his face and I half crawled, half ran.

Straight into the jasmine pot. It went down and so did I. But not for long. I leapt back up, but I was too slow. Hans grabbed me from behind and, pinning my arms to my sides, started to drag me back down the side of the house.

I wriggled and kicked and tried to free my arms, but all to no effect. He dragged me slowly but inexorably towards the back the house. It seemed to take forever, time had slowed in my mind and I was aware of the deathly quiet in which our struggle was taking place.

But then we got to the wall.

I will never know whether Hans intended to try and throw me over or whether he just wanted to cut off any possible escape routes. His motives didn’t matter. I saw the wall and my brain filled in the image of that fifty-foot drop.

Without thought, I leant back and lifted my legs to brace against the wall. I pushed back with all the might of my adrenalin-filled muscles. This time I did scream. A loud, base, screaming snarl of anger and fear.

We went down again, but this time Hans was ready for me. He kept tight hold as we fell and, with my added height from lifting up onto the wall, my head fell over his shoulder and hit the ground with a crack.

In a moment he had flipped us both over and he was on top. Before my brain had a chance to clear from the fug of that jolting crack, he’d flipped me over and was straddling my stomach and pinioning my arms.

I tried to kick out at him again, but he was too far up my body and I only managed a bit of a wriggle.

“Where is it?” he snarled. “What is it?”

I laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know!” I braced for the blow I was sure would come but he just grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me.

“Tell me.”

“Why did you do it Hans? It was just a few hundred euros, you said so yourself.”

“I didn’t mean to, stupid cow.”

I didn’t think that was very polite, but I was in no position to complain.

“Who accepts food from a stranger without telling them they’re allergic?”

“Oh, she’s the… But, if it was an accident, why not just say so?”

“Oh, the Greeks hate the Germans. They are so nice to your face but then they stiff you on prices. They would never believe me.”

I saw a glimmer of hope in my situation.

“We can tell them together. I know the police chief, he’s a friend.” I wasn’t sure if that was strictly true but hey, needs must.

“No, they would never believe me. I’m sorry.”

Sorry? What was he sorry— oh! His hands moved from my shoulders to my throat and started squeezing.

I tried to call out, but no sound would come. Miraculously, I realised that my arms were now free, and I beat at his head with all my strength. The adrenaline surge seemed to have worn off though and my blows made no impact.

I struggled for breath, my lungs starting to burn. He turned his head to the side and the moonlight lit his face. His eyes were tight shut, and I saw a tear glisten on his cheek. Great, he really was sorry he was killing me. That made me feel much better.

The night started to go even darker at the edges of my vision. I could hear the pounding of my heart. Along with a buzzing noise. My soul getting ready to fly out of my body?

I wasn’t ready to give up. My arms were still free. I scrabbled around in the dirt around me. Desperate for something, anything, to use as a weapon. I got a handful of dirt and threw it in his face.

Duh, eyes closed. Idiot.

I continued to scrabble as my vision closed in, everything receding to a tiny point. The buzzing noise grew louder.

Finally! I felt a wooden shaft under my hand. The shovel I had left out after burying the offal. I clasped it as tightly as I could and swung with all my might as the buzzing sound abruptly stopped.

Chapter Sixteen – yup, still Friday night

I felt a weight lift off me. I felt free. Free to rise. Was this death? Could I look down and see myself below, lying lifeless on the ground?

No. I tried to turn over and pain shot though the back of my head. No-one ever mentioned this as part of their out of body experiences.

Then the weight was back, and I was being shaken by the shoulders again.

“Jet! Jet! Come back to me!” a familiar voice shouted.

I opened my eyes and blinked up at a beautiful sight.

“Grandma? Wait, am I dead? Are we in heaven?”

Then behind her head I saw Aristede peering at me, concern written all over his face. And Matt. And several policemen I’d never seen before. Either I was alive, or some sort of major tragedy had hit Sivas.

I sat up and looked around. Hans was lying beside me. I had obviously connected with the shovel.

“Is he dead?” I asked. Not sure whether I felt horrified or glad at that idea.

Aristede turned and caught the eye of one of the policemen, who gave him a nod.

“He’s fine,” he said, “Let’s get you inside.” To my shock, he reached down and effortlessly lifted me into his arms. He nodded at one of the policemen and gestured to where Hans lay, still motionless, then carried me into the house and