Missing Me

by Sophie McKenzie

  The train pulled slowly into the platform. There were quite a lot of people already waiting to board. A shiver prickled at my neck. I looked around, feeling spooked as the door in front of me opened. I waited for the arriving passengers to get off, then stepped inside. As I took my seat, I shivered again. This time I knew exactly what was spooking me.

  Someone was following me. I could sense it.

  25

  The Hideaway

  I looked around but no-one was watching me. The carriage was filling up – a group of students stood at one end, making a lot of noise, while the other passengers, mostly businessmen and women in suits, sat buried in their papers and laptops and iPads. An elderly couple took the seats opposite me. I stared at them suspiciously, but the old lady gave me such a soft, sweet smile in return that I blushed for my rudeness and tried to smile back. My mouth muscles felt stiff. In fact, my whole body was tensed. I peered up and down the carriage again. I still had the sense I was being followed. Jeez, maybe it was just my imagination playing tricks on me.

  I sat back and took a few deep breaths. Calm down. The train started moving. I gazed around yet again. Everyone had taken their seats. No-one was looking at me. I took out my phone and did a proper search on Appleton Cross. The history of the place wasn’t particularly striking, but I did find out that there was an Appleton Manor. That sounded just the sort of place Declan Baxter would buy. But then I read on and discovered that the manor had fallen into disrepair after the First World War and was now a ruin, owned by the council.

  As I read, my phone rang. Another call from Allan. I hesitated a second, then switched it off. I didn’t want to talk to him. He had lied to me . . . tricked me . . . Anyway, what was the point? Allan didn’t care about me. And he surely cared even less about Lauren. I stared out of the window, watching as east London’s tower blocks gave way to red-brick houses, then open fields. Was she all right? My guts twisted every time I thought about her. Lauren was the bravest, most resourceful person I knew, but would she be able to cope – all alone and heavily pregnant? What was Baxter planning to do to her? I heard his menacing whisper in my ear again:

  An eye for an eye.

  I considered dialling 999 and demanding the police investigate. But they were no more likely to believe me than Jam: strategically placed pieces of jewellery and fruit didn’t exactly amount to solid evidence.

  The journey passed quickly. As I stepped onto the platform at Cambridge, I looked around again to check if anyone was following me. I saw no-one and sensed nothing . . . Maybe I had imagined it after all. I knew from my research that Appleton Cross was nine miles outside Cambridge. I had enough money to take a cab, but I didn’t know if I’d need the cash later so I headed for the information desk to find out if there was a bus that would take me closer.

  As I waited in line, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I had the same sensation as before – that someone was watching me. I turned around, scanning the concourse. He was standing just a few metres away, beside a coffee shop with chairs and tables set out in front.

  Wolf.

  Our eyes met and he started walking towards me. I watched him come closer, my legs suddenly shaking. Butterflies zoomed around my stomach.

  Wolf reached me. He stood in front of me. His eyes were intense, his expression determined. ‘Hi,’ he said.

  I stared at him, unable to speak.

  ‘Please don’t shut me out,’ he said. ‘I want to help.’

  ‘You followed me?’ I gasped at last. So that was why I’d had the spooked feeling earlier.

  Wolf nodded. ‘I’m really sorry that me talking to my dad has put your sister in danger, but I was only trying to do the right thing,’ he said. ‘And you can’t do this alone. I’m coming with you. Like I said, I’d like to help.’

  I hesitated. Part of me wanted to tell Wolf to get lost. And yet it was a relief to have someone else to help find Lauren . . . a relief to be with Wolf. Plus, as he’d said, he was only trying to do the right thing when he talked to his dad. If Annie wasn’t so useless, I’d surely have talked to her too.

  ‘What makes you think you can help?’ I muttered.

  ‘I’ve got plenty of money, for a start,’ Wolf said.

  I frowned. ‘I thought your dad was mad at you for taking all that money for Natalia last week?’

  ‘He was,’ Wolf acknowledged. ‘In fact, he cut off my allowance.’ He took his wallet out of his pocket. ‘I took this from home.’

  ‘You stole it?’

  ‘We should get a taxi to Appleton Cross,’ Wolf went on. ‘It’s nine miles away – once we’re there, we can try and find exactly where Baxter’s taken Lauren.’

  This was true, a taxi would be much quicker than the bus. I could feel my anger seeping away. Wolf was so sure of himself . . . so determined to help, and to make up for what he’d done in putting Lauren in danger.

  ‘OK,’ I said slowly. ‘OK, let’s go.’

  Appleton Cross was exactly as described online – a tiny village with a central green containing a stone cross. Four roads led off from the green – two tarmacked thoroughfares and two rough country lanes.

  We stood at the crossroads. There wasn’t much to see: a few houses, a pub and two newsagents, one of which was also a grocery and a post office.

  ‘Let’s go in there and ask if they’ve heard of Baxter,’ Wolf said.

  ‘OK.’ I followed him inside the little shop. It was crammed with produce, the shelves rising right up to the ceiling on all sides. A large, elderly woman with grey hair all bouffed up and swept off her face was bustling about behind the counter as we walked in. She smiled as she saw us.

  ‘Hello there,’ she said. ‘How are you?’

  I tried to smile back, but I was sure it looked forced. Jeez, I was used to London shops where people ignore each other. Wolf clearly felt more confident.

  ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘We’re fine, thanks.’

  ‘Down for the day, is it?’ the woman went on.

  ‘That’s right.’ Wolf walked over to the counter. ‘We were looking for a Mr Baxter. We think he might own a house around here.’

  The woman smoothed her hair back. ‘Ah, now, Mr Baxter’s property is a little way down the lane to the left of the green.’ I gasped. So Baxter did have a house around here.

  ‘It’s not far, you can’t miss it . . .’ the woman continued, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘It’s very modern.’

  Wolf made a face. ‘Too modern?’ he asked.

  I marvelled at his confidence. He was so comfortable talking to this woman. And, I realised, he hadn’t stammered since I’d met him earlier.

  ‘Too modern for my taste,’ the woman went on. ‘Anyway, like I say, you can’t miss it.’

  ‘Thank you very much.’ I spoke at last. My heart was racing. We were on the right track, getting closer and closer to Baxter – and Lauren.

  The woman beamed, then the smile faded from her face. ‘Except . . .’ She paused.

  ‘What?’ I said. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Now I’m thinking about it . . . that’s not Mr Baxter’s house after all.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

  I could feel Wolf move closer. We both stared at the woman.

  ‘It used to be owned by Mr Baxter,’ she said, folding her arms. ‘They rented it out, but they sold it two months ago.’

  ‘So who owns it now?’ Wolf asked.

  ‘No idea,’ the woman said with a shrug.

  26

  House and Grounds

  I stared at Wolf in horror. Had we got the whole situation wrong? If Baxter no longer owned a house at Appleton Cross, then how could Lauren be here?

  I stumbled out of the shop in a daze. The sun was shining brightly. The day had really warmed up, but I was shivering. Wolf put his arm round my shoulder. I pulled away. I didn’t want his sympathy. I was still certain Lauren was in terrible danger. But I appeared to be further away from helping to rescue her than ever.


  ‘We must have got the clue wrong,’ I said, tears pricking at my eyes.

  ‘Just because Baxter sold the house doesn’t mean he couldn’t still use it,’ Wolf said. ‘He might be in league with whoever he sold it to. We don’t know for sure, but—’

  ‘We don’t know anything for sure.’ The words shot angrily out of me, all my frustrations and fears whirling up inside. I caught my breath. It wasn’t fair to be cross with Wolf.

  Wolf touched my arm. ‘S’OK. Hey, as we’ve come all this way, why don’t we check out the house anyway? The lady in the shop said where it was – it’s only a minute or two up the road.’

  ‘All right.’ I turned to face him, feeling bad I’d just shouted. ‘I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to get angry. I’m just frightened for Lauren and . . . and I feel stupid that . . . if we’ve come all this way for nothing.’

  Wolf took my hand and led me across the small village green and along the country lane that the shop lady had pointed out. His hand felt warm and strong. I wasn’t used to holding hands with anyone, but walking along in the sunshine with Wolf, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

  We found the house easily. I hadn’t been sure what the shop lady had meant when she’d said it was ‘very modern’, but after a couple of cottage-style properties with their sloping slate roofs and ivy-clad walls, Baxter’s former house stood out in contrast. It was low and sprawling, with only part of the building raised up to a first floor, and made entirely of glass and wood. The whole effect was very pared-down and designer.

  The house was sheltered from the road by a gate and a row of trees. We climbed the gate easily enough and walked round the house. Thanks to all the glass, it was possible to see inside almost the entire building. There was plenty of chic furniture and abstract art to look at, but no sign of life.

  ‘It’s all really tidy,’ Wolf whispered.

  I nodded. ‘I don’t think anyone’s here,’ I said.

  Wolf pointed to the alarm box on the front wall. ‘That’ll make a lot of noise if we try and break in.’

  ‘Break in?’ I stared at him. ‘Would you really go that far?’

  Wolf shrugged. ‘Your sister could be inside.’

  I pursed my lips. It seemed unlikely. Surely Baxter wouldn’t leave Lauren here without a guard – certainly not when the house was so easy to see into.

  ‘Let’s look around a bit more,’ I said. The truth was I had almost entirely given up on finding Lauren here – but I wasn’t ready to admit it. Not to Wolf and not to myself.

  Keeping a careful lookout, we wandered through the grounds. The back of the house led into a patch of woodland. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting drifting shadows across the earth.

  ‘D’you think this is part of the property?’ I whispered, marvelling at the size of the place. How amazing to have a private wood on your doorstep.

  ‘Yes,’ Wolf said. He frowned, looking back at the house. ‘You know, there’s something that feels familiar about this place. I’m sure I’ve seen the house before.’

  ‘Did you ever come here . . . with Esme, maybe?’ I asked.

  ‘No.’ Wolf shook his head. ‘Definitely not. It’s not that . . . I don’t know . . .’

  We walked deeper into the trees. It was silent, just the swish of the breeze in the branches and the occasional traffic noise in the distance.

  ‘It feels like we’re miles from anywhere,’ I said.

  Wolf pointed at a small wooden hut that rose out of the ground to our right. Part hidden by bushes, it had been carefully designed to fit in with the natural landscape around it. It was much older than the house nearby; the green paint on its wooden walls was blistered and peeling.

  ‘What’s that?’ I said. ‘Some sort of garden shed?’

  ‘I guess.’ Wolf walked closer and looked round one side of the hut. ‘There aren’t any windows,’ he said.

  I peered along the hut’s other side. ‘None here, either. That’s odd, isn’t it?’

  Wolf shrugged. We walked over to the door. It was made of iron and brown with rust.

  ‘Doesn’t look like anyone uses it,’ Wolf said thoughtfully.

  A scrap of blue cloth was trapped between the door and the frame. I tugged it out, a sense of dread creeping down the back of my neck. Lauren had a pregnancy top exactly this colour. She’d been wearing it the last time I’d seen her, along with the jewelled cross.

  ‘This could be my sister’s,’ I said, rubbing the cloth between my fingers.

  ‘Was she wearing it earlier?’ Wolf asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I didn’t see her this morning.’

  Wolf pointed to the hut door. ‘Does anything strike you as odd about that?’

  Holding the torn blue fabric in my hand, I stared again at the battered iron. The door had a normal keyhole which looked as rusty as the rest of it, but it was also fastened with an electronic metal padlock that hung from a chain. Both padlock and chain glinted in the sunlight.

  I had a sudden flashback to the empty beach hut in Norbourne where I’d been kidnapped when I was younger. I could remember the smell of the rotten wood and the tight grip of my captor’s hand on my arm. That hut had been falling apart, but the lock on the door had been brand new. Just like here.

  The memory sent a surge of panic shooting through my veins. I felt sick. ‘Someone put the padlock on the door recently,’ I whispered. My hands were shaking. I shoved them in my pockets so Wolf wouldn’t see.

  Wolf nodded. ‘I think so too.’ He pointed to a sealed panel on the wall near the ground that I hadn’t noticed before. ‘That looks like it contains controls – maybe lighting or heating or air con. He glanced at me. ‘D’you want to see what’s in the hut?’

  I looked again at the scrap of cloth we’d found in the door. Had this torn off Lauren’s top as Baxter’s men forced her inside?

  ‘Yes.’ I breathed out slowly, trying to calm myself down.

  ‘Come on, then.’ Wolf held the padlock in his hand. It was square, with a small keypad in the centre. ‘We need a code,’ he said. ‘It’s probably four numbers.’

  ‘Jeez, it could be anything,’ I said.

  Wolf nodded thoughtfully. ‘The 3 looks a bit more worn than the rest . . . maybe that’s used twice.’ He paused. ‘I’m going to try a few obvious dates. Things like significant holidays or . . . birthdays. Baxter’s birthday . . . Esme’s . . .’

  ‘We don’t even know if Baxter is involved . . . he doesn’t own the property anymore,’ I said.

  ‘Well, do you have a better idea?’

  As I shook my head, my phone rang. It was Jam.

  ‘Madison?’ He sounded really worried.

  ‘Hi,’ I said.

  ‘Listen,’ Jam went on. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said, ever since you called. And I’m . . . I’m starting to get worried.’

  ‘Are you?’ My heart skipped a beat.

  ‘I can’t get hold of Lauren. It’s been hours since we last spoke. She said she was going swimming, but there’s no way she’d be this long. I’ve told the hotel she’s pregnant and asked them to page her and she hasn’t answered and she still isn’t in her room and then, about ten minutes ago, I got this weird text from her saying darling can’t wait to see you later . . . It just doesn’t feel right and—’

  ‘Was she wearing her blue pregnancy top this morning?’ I interrupted. ‘And that vintage cross you gave her?’

  ‘Er, yes, I think so,’ Jam said. ‘How did you know? Why—?’

  ‘I think I found a bit of the top,’ I said. ‘I think she’s here, at Appleton Cross.’

  ‘Where?’

  I explained how I’d worked out the clue Lauren had left, then tracked down Baxter’s former house with Wolf’s help.

  I glanced over at Wolf as I spoke. He was still bent over the electronic keypad, trying out code numbers.

  ‘Are you sure you can trust Wolf?’ Jam said anxiously. ‘Mo, I don’t like you being there. You coul
d get hurt.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘I mean, we don’t know for sure Lauren’s here, but this scrap from her top makes it likely, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, man.’ Jam’s voice cracked. ‘I can’t believe someone’s taken her.’

  ‘Hey,’ I said, trying to sound reassuring. ‘You know Lauren. If there’s anyone who can take care of herself . . .’

  Jam blew out his breath. ‘I’m leaving work now,’ he said. ‘Tell me exactly where you are. I’ll pick up the car and meet you.’

  I could almost feel the weight lift from my shoulders. Thank goodness for Jam. He had always been such a rock. And now he was coming here. He would take the lead and take care of me and Lauren. Just like he always had. I gave him the address. Jam repeated it back to me.

  ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’m on my way. Promise me you’ll be careful around this Wolf guy. And above everything, promise me you’ll wait – away from the house – until I get there. I’ll bring bolt cutters from home – something to break the chain on the door of this hut you’ve found.’

  I gazed over at Wolf, still hard at work on the keypad. There had to be millions of potential combinations. It was unthinkable that we’d crack the code and open the door. Jam was right to suggest we left. If we couldn’t get into the hut, we should back off, wait for Jam nearby.

  ‘I promise,’ I said.

  Jam rang off. I pocketed my phone and walked back to Wolf. The sun went behind a cloud. I checked the time. Nearly 5.30 pm. Jeez, it was hours since I had come downstairs at home intending to make a sandwich. I’d been hungry then, but food had gone out of my head after I received Baxter’s call. I should be starving by now, but my stomach was tied in tight knots. I didn’t feel hungry at all.

  A metallic click made me look up. Wolf was staring at the padlock – now open – in his palm. He glanced at me, a grin spreading across his face.