Moon

by James Herbert

  She was sobbing as she blurted out, 'Daddy, they've taken Annabel away.'

  'I know, Gabby, I know.'

  'But why, Daddy? Did a nasty man take her?'

  'We don't know. The policemen will find out.'

  'Why won't he let her go? Her mummy misses her, and so do I - she's my best friend.' Her face was blotchy from crying, her eyes puffed up behind the lenses of her spectacles.

  He eased his daughter down and sat next to her on the stairs, taking a handkerchief from his pocket to mop away the wetness on her cheeks. He removed her glasses and polished them, talking softly to her as he did so. Her fingers clutched his wrist all the while.

  Overoy interrupted. 'I think I'll call in next door and have a word with Mr and Mrs, er…'

  'Berridge,' Fran finished for him.

  'You go ahead,' said Childes, putting an arm around Gabby's hunched shoulders. 'We'll talk when you're through.'

  With a brief nod towards Fran, Overoy left, closing the front door behind him. She immediately locked it.

  'What the hell is he doing here?' she demanded to know.

  'I rang him before I left,' Childes explained. 'He picked me up at Gatwick and drove me over.'

  'Yes, but what's he got to do with this?'

  Childes stroked his daughter's hair and Gabby looked from him to her mother, revealing a new anxiety. He didn't want an argument in front of her.

  'Gabby, look, you run upstairs and I'll be up to see you soon. Mummy and I have to talk.'

  'You won't shout at each other, will you?' She still remembered.

  'No, of course not. We just have to discuss something privately.'

  ' 'Bout Annabel?'

  'Yes.'

  'But she's my friend. I want to talk about her too.'

  'When I come up you can talk all you want.' She rose, standing on the first step. Her arms went around his neck. 'Promise me you won't be long.'

  'I promise.'

  'I miss you, Daddy.'

  'You too, Pickle.'

  She climbed the stairs, turning and waving from the top before running along the landing to her room.

  'Gabriel,' Fran called after her. 'I think it's time you got yourself ready for bed. Pink nightie's in your top drawer.'

  They heard a sound that could have been a protest, but nothing more.

  'It's been a bad day for her,' Fran remarked as Childes stood once more.

  'Looks as though it's been tough on you as well,' he said.

  'Imagine the hell Tony and Melanie have been through.' She kept her distance for just one moment longer, watching him uncertainly; and then she was in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, hair soft against his cheek. 'Oh, Jon, it's so bloody awful.'

  He soothed her as with his daughter, by stroking her hair.

  'It could so easily have been Gabby,' she said.

  He did not reply.

  'It's funny,' she said, 'but I felt something was wrong this morning. Gabby was downstairs making tea and I got up to see why she was taking so long.' Fran gave a small, tired laugh. 'Would you believe she'd spilt the sugar and was patiently sweeping up every last grain so I wouldn't find out? Annabel must have come through the garden to play with her around that time. Perhaps she went out onto the main road - nobody knows, nobody saw her. Except the person who took her. Oh God, Gabby and Annabel have been warned so many times about going outside the gate!'

  'We could both do with a drink,' he suggested.

  'I was afraid to start - didn't know if I'd be able to stop. I'd be no help to Melanie if I'd got plastered. I suppose it's okay now that you're here, though. You were always good at controlling my drinking.'

  They went through to the sitting room, holding each other as though still lovers. Everything was so comfortably familiar to Childes despite the odd pieces of furniture collected after he had gone, five years of living in the house were difficult to forget; yet it was all so remote, no longer a part of him, of his life. It was an odd sensation, and not pleasant.

  'You sit down,' he said, 'I'll fix the drinks. Gin and tonic still?'

  Fran nodded. 'Still. Make mine a large one.' She slumped on to a sofa, kicking off her shoes and curling her legs beneath her, watching him all the time. Jonathan, when you phoned this morning I didn't give you the chance to say much, but I realised afterwards you were already distraught before I spoke. I don't know, there was something anxious just in the way you said my name.'

  'D'you want ice?'

  'Doesn't matter, just give me the drink. Were you upset when you rang?'

  He poured a good measure of gin and reached for a tonic inside the glass cabinet. 'I thought something had happened to Gabby,' he replied.

  'To Gabby? Why, what…?' Her voice trailed off, and then she closed her eyes. 'Oh no, not again,' she murmured softly.

  He brought her gin and tonic over and her gaze never left his as he handed her the glass. 'Tell me,' she said, almost as a plea.

  Childes poured himself a Scotch, then returned to the sofa, sitting close to her. 'The sightings are happening again.'

  'Jon…'

  'This morning I had an overpowering feeling that Gabby was in danger.' Could he tell her yet that he had known their daughter was in danger, that Annabel had been taken by mistake? Throughout the day he had been taunted by this other, perverted, mind, received glimpses of the prolonged atrocity, the creature, whoever and whatever it was, tormenting him, searching out his mind to inflict painful visions. And oddly, after a while Childes had learned to inure himself to the sightings, for he had become aware that the worst had already happened, that Annabel could no longer feel the torture. She hadn't from almost the beginning. He had to tell Fran that much at least.

  'But it wasn't Gabby, it was her friend, Annabel,' his ex-wife had already said.

  'Yes, somehow I got things wrong in my mind.' It was the coward's way, but she would have to face another shock before the whole truth could be told. Take it slowly, he said to himself, one bit at a time. 'Fran, there's something you've got to know.'

  She took a large swallow of gin as if steeling herself, aware that his 'intuitions' were always bad, never good. She said it for him, unable to stop herself. 'Annabel's dead, isn't she?'

  He bowed his head, avoiding her eyes.

  Fran's face crumpled, the drink spilling over onto her trembling hand. Childes took the glass from her, leaning over to place it on the occasional table beside the sofa. He slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest.

  'It's so vile, so wicked,' she moaned. 'Oh dear God, what will we tell Tony and Melanie? How can we tell them?'

  'No, Fran, we can't say anything yet. That'll be up to the police when… when they find her body.'

  'But how can I face Melanie, how can I help her when I know? Are you sure, Jon, are you absolutely certain?'

  'It's like before.'

  'You were never wrong.'

  'No.'

  He felt her body stiffen. 'Why did you think Gabby had been taken?' She pulled away so that she could look into his face. Fran had never been a fool.

  'I'm not sure. I suppose I was confused because it happened so close to home.'

  She frowned disbelievingly and was about to say more when they heard the doorbell.

  'That'll be Overoy,' Childes said, relieved. 'I'll let him in.'

  The detective's expression was sombre when he followed Childes into the sitting room. 'They're taking it badly,' he said.

  'What would you expect?' Fran countered with a sharpness that surprised both men.

  'Sorry, that was pretty trite,' Overoy apologised. He nodded as Childes showed him the whisky bottle from across the room. 'Can I ask you the same question I asked Annabel's parents, Mrs Childes? Er, it is still Childes, isn't it?'

  'Childes sounds better on a letter-heading than my maiden name so I never bothered to revert. It's less confusing for Gabriel, too. As for your first question, it's one I've been asked several times today by your colleagues and the answe
r remains the same: I've noticed no one who could be described as suspicious within the last week or so, or even the last few months. Now let me ask you two a question.'

  Overoy took the whisky glass from Childes and their eyes met for a brief moment.

  'Take a seat, Inspector, you look uncomfortable standing there.' Fran reached for her gin and tonic, noting her hand was still shaky as she picked up the glass. But she was curious too, a new suspicion forming in her mind. Childes came over and sat next to her.

  'It seems peculiar to me that Jonathan should immediately contact you just because he's had another of his infamous sightings, and that you should take the trouble of picking him up at the airport and bringing him here. I mean, why you when he hasn't seen you for - what, nearly three years?'

  'I'm familiar with his background, Mrs Childes, his special ability.'

  'Yes, I know you've come to believe in it. But to drop everything just to meet him? I wonder if you were even on duty today? It is a Saturday, after all.'

  Childes answered this time. 'As a matter of fact I contacted Inspector Overoy at home.'

  'Ah, you had his private number.'

  'We didn't intend to keep anything from you, Fran. It's just that we thought - I thought - that you might be upset enough over Annabel's disappearance without giving you more to worry about.'

  A fresh fear was in her eyes. She used both hands to raise the gin to her lips, sipped, then slowly lowered the glass so that it rested in her lap. Her back was rigid and her voice unsteady when she said: 'I think it's time you told me everything.’

  ***

  The hour was late.

  Childes and his ex-wife sat alone at a table in the kitchen, the remains of an unenthusiastically cooked meal before them, the food itself eaten with even less enthusiasm. All was quiet in Gabby's bedroom.

  'I should see how Melanie is.' Fran bit into her lower lip, an anxiety habit that he had often chided her over during their marriage.

  'It's well after ten, Fran - I shouldn't disturb her now. Besides, Melanie's doctor may have sedated her, so she could be sleeping.'

  Fran's shoulders slumped. 'What would I say to her anyway, knowing what you've told me? Can you really be so positive?'

  He knew what she referred to. 'I wish I could have some doubt.'

  'No, as I said before, you were never wrong about… about those things.' There was no jibe in her remarks, only an immense sadness. 'But there is something different going on this time, isn't there? This isn't like those other incidents years ago.'

  He sipped lukewarm coffee before answering. 'I've got no explanation. Somehow this monster knows me, can penetrate my mind: how and why is a mystery.'

  'Perhaps he's accidentally stumbled upon your access code.'

  He regarded her with surprise. 'I don't follow.'

  Fran pushed her plate to one side and leaned her elbows on the table. 'Look at it this way, using your beloved computers as an analogy. When you want to gain access to another system, you need that system's special code to open the door, don't you? Once you have that code, you can get inside the other machine's memory bank. In fact, you have dialogue between both computers, right? Well, maybe this other mind got hold of your access code by accident or other means. Or perhaps subconsciously, you have his.'

  'I didn't realise you were interested in such things.'

  'I'm not as a rule, but what happened to us last time left me a little curious. I did some research - not much, just enough to try and understand. A lot still doesn't make much sense to me, but at least I know something of the various theories on psychic phenomena. Admittedly most appear to be ridiculous, though there is a certain pleasing logic to some. I'm only surprised you never investigated further yourself.'

  He became uncomfortable. 'I wanted to forget everything that happened, not pursue it.'

  'Strange.'

  'What is?'

  'Oh, it doesn't matter.' She smiled distantly. 'I remember you never even liked ghost stories. I always put it down to your microchip disposition; you've no room in that technological brain of yours for such romanticisms. How ironic that someone like you should have received psychic messages; it might even have been funny if they hadn't been so horrendous.'

  'I've changed at least in some ways.'

  'I'd be interested to hear.'

  'Computers have taken a back seat. They're just a job, and only part-time at that.'

  'Then you really have changed. Any other miracles?'

  'Different lifestyle, more easy-going I guess you could say, more time spent relaxing, enjoying the things around me.'

  'You weren't some kind of work-ogre when you were here, Jon, although you did put in too many hours. You made time for me and Gabby when you could.'

  'I realise now it was never enough.'

  'I was at fault too, I had my own unfair demands. But it's old territory now, there's no point in re-exploring.'

  'No, as you say: old territory.' He placed the coffee mug back on the table. 'Fran, I'm worried about you both staying here on your own.'

  'Then you really do think this monster meant to snatch Gabby?'

  'It wanted to get at me through her.'

  'How do you know it's the same person?' Her voice rose in anger. 'And why do you refer to him as it? My God, he's a ghoul, but of the human kind.'

  'I just can't think of it as a man. The feeling of total malevolence is too overpowering, too inhuman. When its thoughts force their way into mine I can almost smell the corruption, I can almost see its depravity.'

  'God, you have changed.'

  He shook his head wearily. 'I'm trying to describe the impression I'm left with, the sense of festering malignancy it imposes upon me. The feeling is ugly, Fran, and terrifying.'

  'I can see. Jonathan, I don't doubt these visions, that you actually suffer these awful things, but are you sure you're not losing control of your own mind?'

  He tried to smile. 'You never were one for holding back. You mean am I going mad?'

  'No, I don't mean that. But could these terrible experiences cause you to hallucinate as well? Let's face it, there's precious little that anybody knows about the million functions of the mind, so who can tell what it takes to throw it slightly out of sync?'

  'You have to take my word for it: the person, if that's what you want to call this creature, who murdered the prostitute and the old man, and who mutilated the dead boy, is the same one who mistakenly took away Annabel. It knows me and wants to hurt me. That's why you and Gabby have to be protected.'

  'But how could he know where we lived? Did he read the address from your mind, too? The whole thing's crazy, Jonathan!'

  'I can't hide my past from it, Fran, don't you see?'

  'No, I bloody don't.'

  'Like the computer, it's all in my memory bank and, as you said, access is easy once you have the code. Maybe it discovered what happened to me before, how I saw those other murders.' A thought occurred to him. 'Fran, did you have this number put back in the phone directory?'

  'Not the old one, not after all those crank calls we used to receive. I couldn't stay ex-directory, not in my line of work, so I had a new number listed.'

  Childes slumped back in his chair. 'Then that's probably the answer.'

  'Oh, it's not human, but it can look up telephone numbers.' She tapped her foot impatiently.

  'I've tried to explain. It's a person, but something inside isn't human. This thing's intelligent, otherwise the police would have caught it by now, and it's perceptive.'

  'Not perceptive enough to kidnap the right little girl,' she snapped.

  'No, thank…' He stopped himself from finishing the sentence and that moment of guilt between them somehow eased the tension. 'The point is,' Childes went on more gently, 'it will soon realise the mistake - if it doesn't know through Annabel.'

  'The newspapers.'

  'All the media.'

  Her eyes widened. 'Jon, if they make the connection…'

  He studied the table top.
'We'll have to go through the whole business all over again. It's too much of a coincidence for another child to be kidnapped right next door to the man who assisted police investigations last time through psychic detection.'

  'I couldn't face that again.'

  'Another reason for you to move out for a while. Overoy's arranged for someone to watch the house for your protection, but they can't keep reporters away. As it is, the pretext is that the police are keeping an eye on Tony and Melanie, but that won't fool any journalist for long. They're going to have a field-day when they learn the truth.' He was cautious with his next suggestion. 'I think it would be a good idea if you both came back with me for a while.'

  'There's no way I could do that, Jon,' she responded immediately. 'I've got my job, remember? And Gabby has school.'

  'A couple of weeks off for her wouldn't hurt, and you must be due for some leave.'

  She shook her head. 'Uh huh, the agency's too busy right at this moment and we can't afford to turn away clients. Besides, Gabby and I would have to come back eventually, so what would happen then?'

  'Hopefully this killer will have been caught.'

  'I'd like to know how. Your idea's impractical, Jon, but there is a compromise: I could stay with my mother. She'd love to have Gabby in her clutches and she's not too far out of town, so travelling in to work would be easy for me.'

  'Why not let Gabby return with me on her own?'

  His ex-wife's reply was sharp and unequivocal. 'The court gave me custody.'

  'I didn't contest.'

  'You were wise not to. Anyway, hasn't it occurred to you that you're the danger point in this situation? Haven't you wondered if your so-called tormentor didn't come to this house looking for you?'

  That possibility had been discussed between Overoy and himself during the drive from the airport. 'You may be right, Fran, there's no way of being sure; but that would prove it doesn't know where I live now.'

  'The more delving into your mind he does, the more he'll discover about you.' She persisted in not referring to Annabel's kidnapper as 'it'.

  'The power doesn't work that way, the thoughts aren't that definitive. It will have some idea of surroundings, but not location. Don't you recall how I could describe only the area where the murdered children were to be found?'