“I’m fine,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Let me help you.” Tess swayed on her feet. She came closer, bringing with her the stench of booze. She reached out a hand. Jago slid away. They were opposing magnetic forces, unable to touch.
“Jago. . .” his mother began.
“I said I’m fine.” He hung his head and stared at the floor. “Just go to bed, Mum.”
He turned and went upstairs, anger punctuating every step. He had a good mind to go back to the Killigrews’ house. He could take a knife, some sort of weapon. Then Cal would see just how brightly his anger burned.
Entering his bedroom, he slumped down at his desk. The ice pack was beginning to melt. Blood and water trickled beneath his T-shirt. He stared into space for the longest time, his heart thumping, his breaths growing thin and shallow.
“My brother is going to die,” he whispered to the room.
It whispered back. Your brother has been dead for months.
A tear escaped from Jago’s eye. Panicking, he swept it away. He hadn’t shed a single tear since Noah had vanished. To do so would be to accept his brother was lost. Until now, he had believed Noah would one day be found.
A second tear spilled down his cheek.
“No,” he hissed. “Stop it.”
But the tears wouldn’t stop. He flipped open his laptop and hit a button. Loud rock music blared from its speakers, drowning out his sobs. In his pocket, his phone began to vibrate. He pulled it out, staring through bleared vision.
Fresh flames of anger ignited. Carrie was calling him.
“Leave me alone,” he breathed. He wiped away more tears.
Perhaps Nat was right. Perhaps he should call the police. The evidence he’d found at the hotel might be enough to bring Cal in. Especially if they found fingerprints, DNA, anything that connected him to the mutilated animals. He would be sectioned and carted off to a psychiatric ward, locked up for years.
Jago had lost his brother. Now, he’d make sure Carrie lost her son for good. Because it was her fault, wasn’t it? If she’d kept her eyes on Cal that day, none of this would be happening. Jago was certain of it. Noah would be downstairs right now, cutting shapes out of Play-Doh. His mother would be sober, the house filled with light. Perhaps even his father would be alive.
It seemed to Jago that Cal’s disappearance had left a black cloud hanging over Devil’s Cove that rained down a torrent of misfortune.
He should have listened to Nat. Yet again he’d let his temper choose the wrong path. He had the detective’s card somewhere. Making the call might not bring Noah back, but it would hurt the Killigrews. And that would satisfy him for now.
Over the music, he heard his mother knock on the locked door. He watched as the handle moved up and down.
Where had he put the detective’s card? He sifted through the crap on his desk then scanned the floor. A blue light brought his attention back to the desk. He’d received a text message.
A message from Carrie Killigrew. What did she possibly have to say that could make things better? He stared at the screen, his finger hovering over the delete tab. But a voice, rising from his unconscious, pleaded with him to stop.
He opened the message.
Give me until tomorrow. I know how to find your brother. Please trust me.
“Bullshit,” he spat, staring at the words. And yet, he could not bring himself to delete them.
He sat, reading the message over and over, the music so loud it hurt his ears.
I know how to find your brother.
Was it true? Or was it a ploy to stop him from contacting the police? Perhaps it was both.
He leaned back in the chair, his neck throbbing, not knowing what to believe. Hope returned to him. But he was terrified. Because to hope meant to believe, and if he discovered Carrie was lying to him, there was no telling what his rage could make him do.
Suddenly, he didn’t trust himself to be alone. And there was just one person whom he felt safe enough to be around.
Turning down the music, Jago dialled Nat’s number.
She picked up after seven rings.
“You’re a prick,” she said. “And an asshole.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. But I need you.”
The line went quiet, long enough for Jago to wonder if she’d hung up.
“You’re a complete loser, too. And you suck.”
Jago found himself smiling. “Yes, I do.”
“I’m glad we’ve got that straight. I feel better already. I’ll be over in five.”
He waited for Nat to hang up, then opened Carrie’s text message. He clung onto his hope with white knuckles.
42
CARRIE STOOD IN THE hallway, listening to the quiet that had settled like mist over the house.
Gary Killigrew had collected Melissa three hours ago, but not before Carrie had cleaned up the blood. Gary had been concerned, wanting to know why both Carrie and his granddaughter had seemed so distressed. She had promised to have answers for him tomorrow.
As Gary had led Melissa away, she had turned and stared at Carrie with a tear-stained face.
“I love you, sweet pea,” Carrie had said.
“Love you, too.”
Cal had not come out of his room and had ignored her calls to the dinner table. Instead, Carrie had made a plate of sandwiches and left them outside his door. She’d hovered, tempted to go in there and confront him. But she’d learned by now that confrontation only pushed him further away. And she didn’t want to push him away.
She wanted to follow him.
The chiming of the hall clock broke the silence. It was 11 PM. Carrie locked the front door but left the key in the lock. If Cal was leaving, there was only one way he could go. Switching off the lights, she headed upstairs. The plate of sandwiches was still sat outside Cal’s door, the bread turning stale. Guilt tugged at her mind. She shook it off. She was doing this for his own good. So they could all move on.
“I’m going to bed now,” she called into the silence. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
She waited for a response, knowing it would never come.
In her bedroom, she switched on the corner lamp, kicked off her shoes, and climbed onto the bed. Pulling her knees up, she turned to face the door.
As she waited, her thoughts turned to Jago. He hadn’t replied to her text message. And yet the police hadn’t showed up either. Carrie could only imagine he’d granted her wish. That he had pinned his last shred of hope on her.
She would not let him down. She would find Noah. She’d find him tonight.
And then things would be better. The Pengellys would have their boy back. She would make sure Cal received the help he needed. Whether that would be here at home, or out of the county, she was still undecided. But it was not a decision to make on her own. She knew that now. When Dylan came home tomorrow, they would sit down and have a serious discussion. They would make a choice that was right for everyone.
For now, Carrie focused on her breathing and stared at the bedroom door.
An hour passed. Her eyelids grew heavy. Soon, she was struggling to stay awake. Perhaps he had somehow sensed her plan. Perhaps he had spent his energy attacking Jago and was now asleep. Perhaps he was curled up under the bed, terrified by the things he’d done. Suddenly, Carrie wanted nothing more than to go to him. To climb under the bed with him and pull him into her arms.
No matter what had happened, Cal was still her son. And she loved him.
From the hall, she heard the squeak of a door handle turning.
Her eyes snapped open. She reached for the lamp, switched it off, and slipped beneath the sheets.
Her bedroom door opened.
She could sense him hovering in the doorway. She could hear his breathing, could smell his musty scent.
He stood for a long time, watching her. He was testing her, she realised. Checking to see if she really was asleep. Carrie slowed her breathing, willed her heart to beat silently.
The door closed again. She heard footsteps on the landing, then on the stairs.
Carrie moved quickly, slipping out of bed and into her shoes. She pressed her ear against the door and listened. A second later, she heard the sharp click of a key turning in a lock. The front door creaked opened. Silence followed. Carrie held her breath. There was a soft thud as Cal closed the front door behind him.
She wasted no time, clearing the landing and the stairs in seconds. She grabbed the bag she’d left hanging on the stair rail, waited a few seconds more, then pulled open the front door.
The night was dark. The air chilled by the changing season. Carrie tiptoed to the garden gate. She ducked down. Cal stalked through the street like a cat. He moved quickly, weaving in between the cars until he came to the end and headed left on Cove Road, disappearing from view.
Carrie counted to five then took off after him. He was heading uphill, growing smaller by the second. Carrie kept her distance as she followed behind. She watched him cross over to the other side and vanish into shadows. For a moment, she thought she’d lost him. Then he resurfaced near the top, pausing to stare down at the cove.
Carrie ducked behind a car and waited. When she looked up again, Cal was gone.
Strangely, she was not worried. It was as if she could sense him. As if the umbilical cord was still attached, pulling her to him. She had lost him for seven years. She wouldn’t lose him again.
She got going, her legs complaining as the hill got steeper. Finally, she reached the top. Catching her breath, she turned and looked over the cove.
The sky glittered with stars. The sea was black and still. A bright beam swept through the dark, emanating from the lighthouse up at Desperation Point. Even when surrounded by horror, there was always beauty to be found.
Carrie shifted her gaze to the left, where the hotel lay in shadows in the distance, looming like a monolith over Devil’s Cove.
That was where she would find him. She could sense it. Could feel him pulling on the cord, reeling her in.
Stepping off Cove Road, Carrie hurried past a small row of houses, heading for the tree-lined lane that would take her to the Mermaid Hotel.
43
CARRIE STOOD IN FRONT of the Mermaid Hotel, looking up at the chained front doors and wincing in the darkness. Climbing over the gate had been more difficult than she’d anticipated. Perhaps in her twenties she would have vaulted over with the grace of a gymnast. But she had landed badly as she’d jumped down and now her right ankle throbbed.
She’d heard about kids coming up here to smoke weed and make out. There had to be a way inside. Somewhere they wouldn’t be seen from the cove.
Hobbling, she turned and headed to the rear of the hotel. The garden was hidden in shadows. Beyond, the ocean and sky were indistinguishable from each other, creating an endless black void that Carrie found terrifying.
Pulling a small pocket torch from her bag, she pointed it at the ground and flicked the switch. A bright beam of light balled up. She directed it at the bottom row of windows. The board had been removed from one of them.
Carrie stared into the rectangle of darkness as cold crept beneath her clothes. She limped forward.
Throwing the bag through first, she clamped the torch between her teeth and hoisted herself up. Once inside, she slung the bag over her shoulder and waved the torch beam around the gutted kitchen.
Sets of dusty footprints led through a set of double doors on the far end. Her pulse racing, Carrie followed them into the once grand restaurant.
Quickening her pace, she cut through the room and found herself in a long corridor. She pointed the torch in both directions. Her heart jumped. The footprints diverged in two directions. Some led toward the front of the building. Others trailed in the opposite direction.
Carrie looked both ways, gripped by terror. She was standing in pitch darkness in an abandoned hotel, not knowing who or what might be lying in wait.
That wasn’t entirely true. Her son was here somewhere, hiding in the shadows.
“Cal,” she whispered, trying to push away her fear. “Your mother’s here. Everything’s going to be okay.”
But which direction should she take?
She thought back to that afternoon. Jago had told her he’d made his gruesome discovery in one of the upstairs rooms.
She took a step toward the front of the hotel, just as a deep, resonating boom filled her ears.
Carrie spun on her heels, splashing light on the walls. She held her breath and listened. The sound did not come again. Her heart in her throat, she traced the myriad footsteps trailing along the corridor. Did they belong to Cal?
Only one way to find out.
Carrie turned and headed away from the front of the hotel. Now, the only sounds she heard were the shuffling of her feet and her quick, frightened breaths.
The footprints went on, passing several closed doors, until they reached the end of the corridor and stopped in front of a large metal door.
She pointed the torch, illuminating a sign on the wall.
BASEMENT.
“Oh, great,” she whispered. She’d seen one too many horror flicks to know nothing good ever came from exploring the basement.
Again, she was aware of the danger she’d put herself in. She should have called Detective Turner hours ago. But it was too late for that now. Cal was down there somewhere. She could sense him again, tugging on the invisible umbilical cord. He was down there, and he was going to lead her to Noah.
With shaking fingers, Carrie reached for the handle and opened the door. It was heavy and she grunted as she pulled it back. That was the noise she’d heard: the basement door slamming shut.
A flight of stone steps was illuminated in the torch beam. She leaned forward and looked down.
Fear stole her breath.
Even if it was just Cal down there, she wasn’t about to head into the basement without some sort of protection.
Spinning around, she scanned the floor. A broken chair leg lay in the shadows.
Scooping it up, Carrie turned back to the basement steps. She checked that the door could be opened from the inside. Then she waited for the pounding in her ears to quieten.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Chair leg in one hand, torch in the other, she stepped forward. The door swung to behind her. She leaned back, stopping it from slamming shut, letting the catch rest against the jamb.
Satisfied she had a way out, she turned back to the darkness. The torch beam flickered. She shook the torch and the beam corrected itself.
Slowly, Carrie descended into the basement.
44
AT FIRST, SHE WAS TOO terrified to move. She stood at the foot of the basement steps, trying to see beyond the edges of the torch beam. She thought about turning back. It would be easy to take the steps two at a time and run from the hotel. But she would be leaving Cal behind. Leaving Noah.
She willed her legs to move forward. They did, slowly at first, making her shuffle like one of the zombies from those stupid films Dylan would persuade her to watch with him.
Oh, Dylan. How she longed for him to be by her side right now. The truth, she feared, was that when Dylan returned home tomorrow, they might never watch a stupid film together again.
Carrie crept forward. Smells assaulted her: rotting timber, mould, rust. And something else, sharp and putrid, like spoiled meat.
Wrinkling her nose, Carrie swung the torch beam from side to side. She was in a large room filled with old furniture and broken wine racks. Empty barrels lay on their sides, decaying and covered in mildew. Several open doorways led off into more darkness.
If the basement covered the same floor area as the hotel above, Carrie was standing at the mouth of a rabbit warren; a labyrinth in which she could easily get lost. Perhaps never find her way out again.
She turned on her heels, noting the position of the stairs, mentally mapping out her path. She swung back around. Which doorway did she take?
She pointed th
e torch beam into the first on the right, revealing another, smaller room. Water ran down its mossy walls. More wine racks lay inside, broken and rotting.
A quick check of the next doorway revealed a similar picture. Carrie pointed the torch at a doorway in the north wall. A long corridor revealed itself. She stared into the darkness beyond.
Was Cal down there? She strained to hear above the drips and splashes of water.
She advanced, the chair leg gripped tightly in her fist. There were more storage rooms on both sides. Most were empty. A few contained further remnants of the hotel’s old furnishings.
As Carrie crept further along the corridor, the air grew thinner and more pungent. The sweet, acrid smell she could not place grew stronger. Her heart pounded. Fear made it hard to breathe.
But she had to keep going. Noah’s life depended on it.
New sounds reached her ears. Scrabbling and scratching. Carrie cocked her head. The sounds grew louder.
Something clambered over her feet.
Carrie yelped. She spun around, pointing the torch at the empty ground. Whatever it was had scurried away.
Again, she thought about turning back. Then she heard more sounds coming from up ahead.
She could hear footsteps. Human footsteps.
Pressing the torch to her chest, Carrie plunged herself into darkness. It was Cal. It had to be. But what if it was someone else?
Carrie stood completely still, listening to the footsteps move further away. Then they were gone. Whomever they belonged to had disappeared.
She felt the walls close in on her. The ceiling lower. The air rush from her lungs. She had to go on. Whether that was Cal up there or someone else, she had no choice but to go on. Pushing one foot in front of the other and keeping the torch pointed to the ground, Carrie forced herself along the corridor.
Something glistened in the light. It was sand, she realised, and wondered how it had found its way into the hotel basement.
The corridor was coming to an end. The terrible stench grew stronger. And now Carrie knew where she had smelled it before.
The Cove: a shocking thriller you won't be able to put down (The Devil's Cove Book 1) Page 23
