Long Gone

by Paul Pilkington

  ‘Try not to worry,’ Samantha said. ‘I think it’s more likely that he’s just made it up. After all, we can’t check the facts, can we? None of us have got access to the internet.’

  ‘We could ask Tabitha,’ Penny suggested.

  ‘I wouldn’t advise it,’ Samantha replied. ‘Either you’ll come across as gullible for believing Russell’s story, or you’ll be pointing out that they’ve been keeping this from us. Both of those scenarios won’t do your chances of winning this competition any good whatsoever.’

  Penny thought on that. ‘You’re right. But it has really creeped me out.’ She looked around at the walls. ‘Now I know it, I don’t think I’ll be able to get it out of my head. It kind of makes it worse that I don’t know whether it’s true or not. Maybe I’ll speak with Russell.’

  ‘Don’t,’ Samantha stated firmly. ‘Otherwise he’ll know he’s got one over you.’

  Natalie wasn’t sure whether she agreed about not approaching Tabitha, but she did think it wouldn’t do any good to go back to Russell. ‘I’m sorry I told you,’ she said, her apology particularly aimed at Penny. ‘I should have kept my mouth shut.’

  Penny and Samantha didn’t disagree.

  AN HOUR LATER, Natalie left the remaining members of the group who were still downstairs and retired to her bedroom. She tried to push away thoughts of the Sinclair murder story as she ascended the staircase to the second floor. But visions of blood flowing down the bannisters haunted her and she took her hand away, expecting to see red.

  She reached her room and fumbled with the key, her imagination in overdrive, expecting a hand to snake around her from behind and clamp across her mouth. She pushed open the door and slammed it shut behind her. It was then that she spotted the folded piece of paper that someone must have slid underneath the door.

  She retrieved it and read the cryptic message, scrawled in red pen.

  You might fool the others, Natalie, but you don’t fool me.

  PART II

  13

  Previous Friday evening

  NATALIE WALKED over to the table, and picked up the note again.

  You might fool the others, Natalie, but you don’t fool me.

  She shook her head.

  What the hell was that supposed to mean? And who had delivered it?

  Putting it down again she paced the room, trying to not let it get to her. And surely that was it. Whoever had slid the note underneath her door was trying to put the frighteners on her.

  Had one of the group left the reception dinner, climbed the staircase and deposited the note here?

  And if so, who?

  When she looked at the note again, it wasn’t really as sinister as it first seemed. There was no threat. And yet, it was threatening. She placed it back on the table before sliding it out of sight, underneath the tea tray.

  Deciding to put it out of her mind, she got ready for bed. It was already half past eleven, and the next day was surely going to be tiring, and one where she would need her wits about her – now for more than one reason.

  As she brushed her teeth, she wondered if some of the others had also returned to their rooms to find similar notes. Or if it was just her. Maybe whoever had done it saw her as the softest touch, someone whom they could scare out of the way early on. She spat out the toothpaste and stared defiantly at herself in the mirror.

  She was no victim. And she wouldn’t be going anywhere.

  FROM A DISTANCE, outside her dream, Natalie heard a noise. At first she thought it was just her imagination, but the knocking became more insistent, to the point where the dream faded and it was all that was left. An insistent knock on the door, increasing in frequency and intensity.

  Natalie reached across to her watch and checked the time. It was half past midnight. She’d only got into bed just over half an hour ago. For a moment she just lay there, hoping the person would give up.

  Who would be knocking at this time of night, for heaven’s sake? And did they really expect an answer?

  Then the thought came to her that there might be something wrong. Maybe it was someone from reception, coming to give her a message. Or maybe there was a fire in the house and this person was coming to rescue her, although there was no alarm sounding.

  She sat up in the darkness as the knock sounded out again.

  ‘Hello?’

  She swung her legs out of bed and padded over to the door. Light leaked through the gap along the bottom. There was no security viewer, so whoever was on the other side was completely shielded from view.

  ‘Hello?’ she said again, her voice soft and nervous.

  ‘Natalie,’ the voice on the other side said, ‘I need to speak with you.’

  It took a second for her to place the voice. It was Tabitha.

  Relieved it was someone familiar, and a girl, she flicked on the main light and opened up.

  ‘Natalie.’ Tabitha smiled apologetically as she examined her t-shirt and shorts bed-wear. ‘I’m so sorry, did I wake you?’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Natalie said, stepping back as Tabitha moved into the room without invitation. ‘I’d only just gone to bed.’

  Tabitha was well into the room, and looking around.

  Natalie pushed the door to; the thought of leaving it open spooked her. ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Err, well,’ Tabitha said, now more obviously searching for something. She moved past the bed. ‘Is it okay if I just check the bathroom?’

  ‘Check it for what?’

  A tight smile. ‘I’ll explain in a minute.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Natalie asked, as Tabitha emerged from the bathroom a few seconds later.

  ‘Just a second,’ she said, opening the double wardrobe, one door and then the other, peering inside at the space that was empty apart from an ironing board and some spare bedding.

  ‘What are you looking for?’

  Now Tabitha gave Natalie her full attention.

  ‘We had reason to believe that you had… someone in your room.’

  ‘Someone? Who?’

  ‘Russell Cave.’

  Natalie laughed at the suggestion.

  ‘You do remember the house ways of working and living, Natalie, don’t you? You agreed to abide by them.’

  ‘I have abided by them,’ Natalie responded, a little more strongly than she had intended to. Quizzed about boys in your room? It all felt faintly ridiculous – like something you might experience on a school field trip, where boys and girls with raging teenage hormones would try and sneak into each other’s dorms.

  ‘Who you have relations with on the outside is of course your own business, Natalie. But in here, there are ways of doing things. You agreed to abide by them,’ repeated Tabitha.

  Natalie tried to suppress her frustration. ‘Why did you think that Russell was here with me?’

  ‘You seemed very close to Russell during dinner. You appeared deep in conversation. There was obviously a connection between the two of you. A spark, maybe?’

  Natalie decided not to mention Russell’s revelation of the Sinclair family. ‘I was sitting next to him, we had polite conversation, that’s all. There isn’t a spark.’

  ‘When was the last time you saw him?’

  ‘When we said goodbye at the bar. He stayed downstairs and I came back up to my room.’ She wasn’t sure why she had to justify this, but she did want to correct any misinterpretation, however much it really wasn’t any of Tabitha’s business what two grown adults did or didn’t do. ‘Haven’t you spoken to him about this?’

  ‘I tried. But he wasn’t in his room.’

  ‘And he isn’t still downstairs?’

  ‘No. Lights went out some time ago.’

  ‘Well, I don’t have a clue where he is. I swear.’

  Tabitha just looked at her.

  ‘I don’t understand why you seem so sure something was going on,’ Natalie pressed. ‘You were really expecting to find him in my bed, weren’t you?’<
br />
  ‘We had our reasons,’ she said cryptically.

  ‘What reasons?’

  Tabitha went to say something but stopped herself.

  ‘Please, I have a right to know why you thought that, surely? You can see,’ Natalie said, gesturing around the room, ‘that there’s no one else here.’

  Tabitha nodded. ‘There was a note. Left at my office.’

  Now it was starting to make sense. Natalie took the other note from the desk and handed it to her. ‘Like this one?’

  Tabitha gazed at the message. ‘Who sent this?’

  ‘I don’t know. Someone slid it underneath my door whilst I was downstairs at the reception.’

  ‘I think the handwriting matches,’ Tabitha revealed. ‘I’d have to check, but I’m sure it’s from the same person.’

  TABITHA CLOSED the door behind her, taking the note with her. Natalie wondered whether she should have let her have it, but Tabitha had said that first thing in the morning she would take both notes to a staff meeting for discussion.

  She did seem to be taking it seriously. Possibly more seriously that Natalie herself. But the people at Brand New did seem like a serious bunch.

  Weirdly serious.

  She hadn’t had a chance to flick off the light when there was another knock at the door.

  Tabitha must have forgotten something.

  This time she didn’t hesitate when opening. But she was shocked by who was smiling back at her.

  ‘Russell?’

  ‘Can I come in?’ he whispered, a smile still playing on his lips. ‘Before the Gestapo return and send me to solitary confinement.’

  Instinctively, Natalie ushered him inside, closing the door softly.

  ‘Russell, what the hell are you doing here? You know that…’

  ‘Yes, yes, it’s against the ways of working and living,’ he said, making air quotes. ‘No fraternising between the participants, and certainly no one creeping into other people’s rooms. Especially of the… opposite sex… heaven forbid!’

  Natalie looked properly at Russell. He was tipsy. But he’d only had a glass of wine during the meal, and she was pretty sure she’d seem him drinking Coke afterwards at the bar. Suddenly, though, she thought she could smell whisky. ‘Russell, you know you can’t stay here.’

  ‘I know, I know.’ He wafted away, turning three hundred and sixty degrees in the centre of the room. ‘Nice place you’ve got here.’

  ‘Isn’t it just the same as your room?’

  ‘Yeah. But I like what you’ve done with it.’

  Natalie couldn’t help but smile. ‘You’d better sit down for a minute.’

  ‘No need. Natalie, I want to show you something.’ He held out a hand and smiled what was undoubtedly a handsome, if slightly drunken smile. ‘Please, come with me if you want to live.’

  She seemed to remember that was from a movie, but couldn’t quite place it.

  ‘Russell, I can’t.’

  ‘You can, you can.’

  ‘They suspect something is going on between us,’ she revealed. ‘Tabitha came to my room just a few minutes ago, thinking you were in here with me.’

  ‘Well, she was a few minutes too early then, wasn’t she.’

  Again Natalie couldn’t help but smile. ‘Where do you want me to go?’

  ‘It’s a secret.’

  ‘I’m not sure I like secrets.’

  ‘You’ll like this one.’ Suddenly he seemed to shake himself back into soberness. ‘Just a few minutes. Tabitha won’t be coming back. She’s probably settled into her coffin for the night.’

  Another laugh. Russell was actually a lot funnier than she’d first thought.

  His charm worked and she relented without much persuasion. ‘Go on then.’

  ‘Fantastic!’ he said, rather too loudly, apologising as Natalie put a finger to her mouth.

  Natalie pulled on some trousers over her pyjama bottoms, and slipped on her shoes. Then she had a thought. ‘We’re staying inside the house, aren’t we?’

  ‘Yes, yes. Right inside the house, in fact. Come on.’

  14

  Cullen rapped on the door to Jack’s apartment. Almost immediately, he heard a noise. But it was a good minute or so before the door opened.

  ‘Detective Cullen.’ Jack’s cheeks were flushed. He looked as if he were trying to stay cool, but he couldn’t hide his flustered expression. His t-shirt was now slightly off-centre, as if he’d just thrown it back on. And his hair was messy. He’d run a hand through it, but that seemed all.

  It all served to strengthen Cullen’s suspicions.

  Jack pressed a hand against the doorframe, and Cullen wondered whether he was attempting to block the view inside. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.’

  ‘I’ve just got a few more questions,’ Cullen said.

  Jack didn’t move his arm. He surprised Cullen by twisting his mouth into a smile, as if amused by something. ‘No Amy, then?’ he said, peering past the officer.

  ‘No, just me this time.’

  ‘Then you’d better come in,’ Jack said, retreating into the apartment. ‘Do take a seat.’

  ‘I’m okay,’ Cullen said, remaining on his feet. ‘I won’t be long.’ He let the silence settle as he listened out for any signs of the person he believed was upstairs.

  ‘So, what can I do for you?’

  ‘I’d just like to ask you a few more questions, if you don’t mind.’

  Jack looked as if he did mind. ‘I’m going out in a few minutes, I’ve told you all I know.’

  Cullen wondered whether now was the right time.

  ‘Look,’ Jack said, with a degree of irritation creeping into his voice. ‘Am I an official suspect? If I am, shouldn’t you be taking me into a police station, offering me a lawyer?’

  ‘Jack, relax. You’re not an official suspect. But you are someone who I think might be able to help.’

  Jack shook his head. Then there was a flash of realisation. ‘Can I see your ID again?’

  ‘Sure.’ He passed it across.

  A smile broadened across Jack’s lips as he examined the card and confirmed his suspicions. ‘Paul Cullen.’ He looked up, sufficiently satisfied to voice his accusation. ‘You’re Amy’s father?’

  Cullen sighed inwardly. This would not make things any easier. Maybe he should have left Amy outside during that first encounter. But no matter, it was too late now. ‘That’s correct.’

  Jack swirled the ID card around his fingers, over-examining it front and back in a way that made Cullen want to snatch it back. ‘So you’re a detective in the British Transport Police?’

  ‘Detective Chief Inspector.’

  The annoying examination of the ID card continued. ‘Transport Police,’ Jack mused. ‘So what exactly do the British Transport Police investigate? Leaves on the line?’ He sniggered at his own joke.

  Cullen refused to take the bait from the emboldened Jack, although he was sorely tempted to prick this guy’s bubble. It was strange and interesting how Jack had suddenly come out fighting, and it was best to let it play out without too much provocation.

  ‘Serious and organised crime on or connected with the transport network,’ he replied.

  He was well-used to having to explain to people what he did. If you worked for the regular police, people understood that. But the transport police was a different matter. They were a largely invisible thin blue line, often mistaken for regular forces, or just not noticed at all.

  Cullen continued as Jack said nothing. ‘Gang-related activities, terrorism, major railway accidents, murder, rape, serious assaults… missing people, where we have reason to believe they might be in danger or have come to harm.’ He let the last part of the sentence hang in the tense space between them as they eyeballed one another.

  Cullen plucked his ID card from between Jack’s fingers and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

  ‘I want to give you a chance, Jack,’ Cullen said, seizing the moment to land a surprise blo
w.

  Jack looked puzzled. ‘A chance?’

  ‘A chance to tell me the truth.’

  There was a flash of something. Panic, maybe? Or guilt? For a moment, Cullen wondered whether Jack Morton was hiding something else, something that he hadn’t yet even considered. He decided to give him some more rope and stayed silent.

  ‘I swear, I haven’t done anything to Natalie,’ Jack protested, running a hand through his messy hair. The bravado was gone for now. ‘I haven’t seen her since we split up, two weeks ago. I’m not responsible for her disappearance.’

  Cullen just nodded. And there it was. A noise again, coming from upstairs. They both heard it. Jack couldn’t help but instinctively glance towards the ceiling.

  Their eyes locked and Cullen held the stare, issuing an unspoken challenge.

  ‘Is it okay if I use your bathroom? Just upstairs, isn’t it?’

  Jack swallowed. He knew what was happening. The game was up. But he sprang a surprise on Cullen by agreeing to his request. ‘Sure.’ He managed to smile. ‘Just upstairs, first door on the left. It’s not a big place, you can’t miss it.’

  Cullen ascended the stairs, feeling Jack’s gaze on him from below. He reached the top and moved straight past the open door of the bathroom, down the short corridor to the only other door.

  He didn’t knock.

  The attractive girl, in bright pink bra and knickers, perched on the edge of the unmade double bed, smiled at him without embarrassment.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, brushing her sleek dark hair back over her shoulder. She looked as if she might be Spanish or Italian. No more than late teens. Probably a first-year undergraduate.

  ‘Very sorry to interrupt,’ Cullen said, averting his eyes as he examined the bedside lamp with mock interest. He thought back to what Amy had said about Jack’s predatory behaviour at the university and wanted to warn off this beautiful young girl from the shark downstairs.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said, with a definite Mediterranean accent and a warm smile. ‘Jack said he might invite a friend along.’

  Cullen smiled tightly. ‘Did he now?’