She Is Gone

by Ben Cheetham

  Normal. There was that word again. “Why not? Seems perfectly normal to me. My daughter had one when she was about the same age.”

  “The problem was, Neal used to dress up as Wendy. He’d put on my dresses and shoes and plait his hair. Dad found him like that one day.” Hayley grimaced at the memory. “He flipped out, beat Neal black and blue with a belt. He cut off Neal’s plaits and made him promise never to mention Wendy again.”

  “How old was Neal?”

  “Eight. A few weeks later he stole that book from me.” Hayley pointed to The Gingerbread Man. “Dad acted angry, but I think it actually pleased him when he saw the changes Neal had made to the book. If Neal thought Wendy was a sly fox, that was a good thing. It meant she wasn’t his friend anymore.”

  “So that was the end of Wendy?”

  Once again, Hayley hesitated to reply. She sucked her lips hard enough to leave them bloodless. Annabelle suddenly wriggled free from her mum’s embrace. She plopped down onto the carpet and resumed playing with her tea set.

  “Well, was it?” pressed Jack.

  Hayley blinked. “Sorry, I was miles away. Yes, yes that was the end of Wendy.”

  “And what about Neal himself?” Jack asked after a doubtful little pause. “How would you describe him as a child?”

  “He was quiet, shy.”

  “Did he have any real life friends?”

  “No. Even if he’d wanted friends, there was no time for them. After school we worked on the farm – feeding the sheep, shearing, lambing and all the rest of it.”

  “Did Neal enjoy the work?”

  Hayley shrugged. “He just got on with it.”

  “So Neal had difficulty expressing his emotions.”

  Hayley frowned faintly as if she thought Jack was trying to put words in her mouth. “I suppose you could say that.”

  “Would he ever get angry? Throw tantrums? Lash out?”

  “No never. Even when Dad used to hit him, he’d just stand there and take it.”

  “What about Wendy? Would she get angry?”

  Jack noted the slight hesitation before Hayley replied, “Not really.”

  He stared at her as if waiting for her to say more.

  Looking up from her tea set, Annabelle said, “Pasta, Mummy.”

  “OK, darling,” Hayley replied quickly as if relieved for an excuse to leave the room. “I need to make Annabelle’s tea,” she said to Jack. “So if you wouldn’t mind…” She glanced pointedly towards the door.

  Jack remained where he was, subjecting Hayley to the same steady stare. She made to stand, but he motioned for her to stay put.

  She sighed sharply. “Look, I don’t see what else I can say that could possibly be of any help to you.”

  Jack decided to chance his arm. “You could tell me the truth, Hayley.” A career criminal like Karl Robinson would have laughed in his face at such a direct accusation of dishonesty. Being called a liar was nothing to them, but for ‘normal’ people it was enough to throw them off balance, make them emotional. And an emotional person was more likely to let slip, if not the truth, then at least something of interest.

  Hayley’s eyes widened in indignation. “I’ve told you the truth.”

  Jack shook his head. “Do you know what the maximum sentence for perverting the course of justice is? Life imprisonment. In a case like this, you might expect to serve two to three years for assisting an offender.”

  “What are you talking about?” exclaimed Hayley. “Assisting what offender?”

  “If you conceal information that could lead to an arrest–”

  “This is insane! I’m not concealing anything about Neal.”

  Jack cocked an eyebrow. “I never said you were.”

  Confusion vied with Hayley’s anger. “Yes you did.”

  “No. I said I don’t think you’re telling me the whole truth. You’re the one who related that back to Neal. Why is that?”

  Hayley’s mouth opened and closed silently. Annabelle tugged at her hand, whining, “Pasta, pasta…”

  Hayley found her voice. “You’re playing mind games with me.”

  “This isn’t a game, Hayley,” Jack stated gravely. “People are dead. Other people are still suffering. And somewhere out there are two killers who might one day do the same thing to someone else.”

  “It’s been twenty years.”

  “It doesn’t matter how long it’s been. This was an opportunistic crime. Given the opportunity, the killers will do it again. More people will die. More lives will be ruined.” Jack made a circular motion. “And so it goes, until something breaks the cycle. I’ve seen it happen.”

  “Pasta, pasta…” Annabelle persisted.

  Hayley closed her eyes, touching a hand to her forehead in a way that reminded Jack of Butterfly.

  “Pasta.”

  “Alright!” Hayley retorted exasperatedly. “I’ll get you your sodding pasta.”

  The little girl’s eyes swelled with tears. Hayley’s expression moved swiftly from anger to guilt. “Sorry, Annabelle,” she soothed, picking her up and cuddling her. “Mummy shouldn’t have shouted at you.”

  Annabelle pressed her face into her mum’s shoulder, her sobs quietening down to snuffles. Hayley gave Jack an almost pleading look. “I need to make her tea.”

  He motioned towards the door as if to say, Don’t let me stop you. “I’ve told you what will happen when I leave here, Hayley. As soon as I’m out of the front door, I’ll apply for a search warrant. Whilst I’m waiting for that, I’ll speak to your parents and brother. Then I’ll speak to any other relatives, family friends, acquaintances, neighbours, the family doctor, people you and your brother went to school with, the postman, the milkman. I’ll pull your family’s life apart thread by thread. Even if it takes another twenty years, I’ll find out what I want to know. And if you’ve withheld anything from me, you’ll be prosecuted and you will go to prison.” He spoke as if it was an inevitability. From the way Hayley’s lips trembled, he knew his words were getting through. He continued to press, “And if social services deem it necessary, Annabelle will be taken into care.”

  A fierce light flashed in Hayley’s eyes. “Over my dead body she will be.”

  Jack thought about Butterfly again. The way her eyes would flash like a tiger’s if anyone or anything threatened Charlie. He softened his voice. “I understand how you feel, Hayley. I have a daughter myself. We do whatever it takes to protect the ones we love.”

  “I love my brother too. If I’ve been protecting him for all these years, what makes you think I’ll talk to you now?”

  “Because children change everything. Nothing brings things into clearer focus than having another life totally dependent on you. You sacrifice everything for them – relationships, ambitions. Nothing else matters.”

  Tears spilled over Hayley’s eyelashes. Silent seconds passed. Jack watched his words sink deeper and deeper into their target. Hayley heaved a sigh that seemed to come from the bottom of her lungs. “I wasn’t lying,” she said quietly, her eyes dropping away from Jack as if she was ashamed. “Wendy never came back after Dad beat her out of Neal, but someone else took her place. His name was Butch.” She gave a nervy laugh. “One day, Neal started speaking in this odd deep voice and walking around with his chest puffed out. We all thought it was funny… at first. Neal started lifting weights to build his muscles. Dad approved because he needed help with all the heavy lifting. Neal was skinny as a rake back then, but he was strong.” She grimaced as if at an unpleasant memory.

  Picking up on it, Jack asked, “Did your brother ever hurt you?”

  “We used to fight sometimes, like all siblings do. One time I walked into his bedroom and he was doing muscle poses in the mirror naked. I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing. Next thing I knew, his hands were around my throat and he was squeezing so hard I couldn’t breathe. His face was all twisted out of shape. He looked like a different person. He shouted at me, ‘No one laughs at Butch!’ I thought I was goi
ng to pass out, but he let go and said, ‘You mention this to anyone and I’ll finish the job.’ I ran from his room. I was too scared to say a word to our parents, but a few days later Dad saw the bruises on my neck. When he asked about them I broke down and told him. He went mad. Even madder than when he found Neal dressed as Wendy. He hit Neal and called him a coward for hurting someone weaker than himself.”

  Jack resisted the urge to point out the inherent hypocrisy in Alistair Bray’s accusation. He didn’t want to disturb the flow of Hayley’s story. She was staring past Annabelle at an indeterminate spot on the carpet, lost in her memories.

  “But this time, Neal didn’t just stand there and take it,” continued Hayley. “He was fourteen. He’d shot up as tall as Dad in the previous year. He hit him back. I can still see the look on Dad’s face. Like… Like a hand had reached down from the sky and clocked him one. The two of them stared at each other for a second, then they started swinging like they were trying to knock each other’s block off. And every time Neal threw a punch, he’d shout in that same put-on deep voice, ‘There’s only room for one man in this house!’” She shook her head. “Sounds like a bad joke, doesn’t it?”

  “No,” disagreed Jack. He was thinking about the men who’d attacked the Ridleys. The first had seemed nervous and unsure of what he was doing. The second had been aggressive and dominant. He’d taunted the first man for ejaculating prematurely. But had there really been two attackers? Could it have been one attacker using two voices? According to her statement, Tracy had only heard the second voice after a bag was put over her head. She would have been none the wiser if both attackers were in fact one and the same person – or indeed if that attacker wasn’t a man, but a fourteen-year-old boy. Was it possible? Could Neal Bray have murdered the Ridleys, egged on by his invisible friend? “So who won the fight?”

  “Neither of them. Mum got between them and put a stop to it. She made Neal apologise and promise never to put his hands on me again.”

  “And did he keep his promise?”

  Hayley nodded. “He also promised to send Butch away like he had Wendy, but Dad wasn’t having any of it. He took Neal out of school. Kept him close, working the farm. I think that was when Dad first got depressed. It all just got too much for him.”

  “I take it then that Neal didn’t keep that promise.”

  Hayley pursed her lips as if uncertain how to answer. “Well he did and he didn’t. He never let Butch out in front of Dad again, but sometimes when he was speaking to Mum or me – especially if he was angry – his voice would change and we knew it was Butch. Mum made me promise not to tell Dad. She was terrified that if Neal and he had another fight someone would end up seriously hurt. And then there were the other incidents…” She trailed off as if she couldn’t bring herself to say any more.

  “What other incidents?” prompted Jack.

  Hayley chewed her lips. As if sensing her distress, Annabelle reached up to gently touch her mum’s face. Hayley smiled at her, tears filling her eyes again. Drawing in a shuddering breath, she went on, “Neal used to spy on me undressing. I caught him at it twice. The second time he was…” She wrinkled her face in distaste. “He was masturbating. I told Mum. She had words with Neal and he never did it again. At least not to my knowledge. I suppose he might have just been sneakier about it. Then there was the thing with the cat. We kept cats to keep the rats and mice down. There was a tabby called Tigger that Dad was fond of. Dad found Tigger in the woods gutted and hanged from a tree. He guessed it was Neal – or Butch – that had done it. He tried to go for Neal, but Mum stopped him. I remember he kept yelling at her, ‘He needs help. He’s sick in the head.’ But she wouldn’t hear it. Keep it in the family. That’s her motto.”

  “Tell me what happened on the day of the killings?”

  “We were working as usual. Stacking a delivery of hay.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “According to you and your parents’ statements you were all together at the time of the killings. But that was a lie, wasn’t it?”

  Hayley’s eyes fell away from Jack’s again.

  “Wasn’t it?” Jack repeated forcefully enough to make her flinch.

  As if the words were being dragged out of her one at a time, Hayley said, “Neal wasn’t at the farm when Tracy Ridley showed up. He’d been out setting snares in the woods. He came back to the house not long before Sergeant Ramsden arrived.”

  Jack had heard enough. Mental defectiveness, sexual deviancy, violence – Neal had displayed more than enough abnormal traits to place him smack bang at the top of the list of suspects. The police had overlooked him for three reasons. Firstly, they’d been too focused on Beech and Sutton. Secondly, he was only fourteen-years-old at the time. But mainly because of Pam Bray’s motto – Keep it in the family. That’s exactly what the Bray’s had done. They’d covered for Neal for twenty years.

  Tears spilled from Hayley’s eyes as she lifted her gaze to Jack. “I only did as Mum told me, that’s all. I’m so sorry. What’s going to happen to me?”

  “That depends on whether your brother killed the Ridleys.”

  “He did it.”

  “How do you know? Did he tell you that he did?”

  Hayley shook her head. “Nothing was ever said. Not a word. But we all knew he’d done it. Dad even got rid of the old shotgun he’d taught Neal to shoot with. All these years what Neal did has hung over us, poisoning everything.” She hugged an arm across her stomach. “It makes me want to puke just thinking about it.”

  Frowning disapprovingly, Annabelle touched her Mum’s lips as if trying to push them up into a smile. Hayley kissed the toddler’s fingers. “It wasn’t only because I couldn’t stand to see Dad get any worse that I left the farm. I couldn’t risk Annabelle being around Neal.” She touched her throat. “Every time he looked at her, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

  “So you think he’s still dangerous?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen Butch in years, but he’s still in Neal. I’m certain of it.” Hugging Annabelle close, Hayley looked at Jack with eyes that seemed to be pleading for mercy. “So what happens now?”

  “I’m going to head over to your parents’ farm. You’re going to stay here and wait to hear from me. I must ask you not to let your parents know I’m coming. If you do contact them, criminal charges may be made against you further down the line.”

  “I won’t contact them. I know I should have come forward years ago. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about it. I’ve even picked up the phone to call the police, but…” Hayley exhaled a juddering breath. “I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. He’s my brother.”

  “Well let’s hope you’re wrong about him.”

  Hayley shook her head as if to say, I’m not.

  Jack felt a twinge of sympathy. Keep it in the family. That motto had ended up costing Hayley the very thing it was supposed to protect. He wondered what he would have done in her situation. He hoped he never had to find out. As he turned to leave, Annabelle gave him a wave. Smiling, he waved back.

  Chapter 23

  Charlie let out a cry, straining against the straps of his seat. With difficulty, Butterfly twisted around so that her head was resting on the seat’s padded armrest. An acrid whiff told her that his nappy needed changing. There was nothing she could do about that though. Karl had tied her up expertly. Charlie settled down as she hummed one of his favourite lullabies through the cloth gag. It occurred to her that maybe she should just let him cry. The noise might attract attention from a passer-by. But she couldn’t bear to see him in distress. Besides, who would pass by here other than an occasional rabbit?

  She crooked her neck to look at the dashboard clock. Karl had been gone for almost half-an-hour. What if he’d been caught? Would he tell the police about her and Charlie? If not, they might be trapped here indefinitely. A bud of panic opened in her chest at the thought. Stay calm, she told herself. No matter what happens to K
arl, Jack will come looking for us. He’ll find us.

  She jerked her head around at a tap on a window, hoping her prediction had come true. Her eyebrows dropped in disappointment at the sight of Karl’s grinning mug. But there was also a small measure of relief in her expression. And not only because she could tend to Charlie. If Karl had been captured, their hunt for the killers would be at an end.

  A whole new set of emotions engulfed her as she saw that Karl wasn’t alone. A quivering mixture of anxiety and excitement greeted the sight of Phil Beech’s long, thin face. The gamekeeper’s hands were interlocked across the back of his head. The Glock was pressed into his back. His mouth and eyes were downturned. His chin hung dejectedly against his chest.

  Karl opened the door, saying gleefully, “Look which dumb redneck popped out for a sneaky cig.”

  “Listen, I don’t know what–” Phil started to say. He broke off with a grimace as Karl kicked him behind the knee. Another swift kick sent him to his knees.

  “You don’t speak unless I say so,” warned Karl. “Have you fucking got that?”

  Phil nodded. Keeping the gun on the gamekeeper, Karl flicked open his knife and reached to cut Butterfly loose. She rubbed the circulation back into her hands, eyeballing Phil with a look of faint revulsion. Another cry from Charlie caused her to turn to him.

  “We haven’t got much time before those coppers realise this wanker’s gone,” Karl said as she took Charlie out of his seat.

  “His nappy needs changing.” Butterfly’s tone brooked no argument.

  Karl’s gaze shifted between Phil and the surrounding trees as Butterfly cleaned Charlie and strapped a fresh nappy around his plump thighs. When she was done, she returned Charlie to his seat and gave him a dummy to keep him occupied. She pulled up the seat’s hood so he couldn’t see what was going on outside the car.

  She turned to look down at Phil. He stared at the ground, his narrow shoulders hunched as if in anticipation of being hit again. A liver-spotted scalp glimmered greasily through his thinning hair. His hollow cheeks were flecked with white stubble. In contrast to his sharp chin and cheekbones, his nose was bulbous and veiny, doubtless as a result of spending most of his free time in The Rose and Crown. He made for a sorry sight, but Butterfly’s voice was cold and hard as she said, “Look at me. Who am I?”