If only you knew, Emily thought.
“I’m still thinking on it,” she replied.
“Well, don’t think for too much longer.”
Emily nodded, then pushed through the main doors and stepped outside.
The principal called out behind her, but his words were quickly lost beneath the playground din.
***
The sun was still bright, the sky still blue, but a darkness lingered in Emily’s heart as she walked home. Turning a corner onto a quieter road, the traffic disappeared. Shops were replaced by suburban homes, a line of white houses with red roofs. Children played out in the street. It was strange, she thought, how the world continues despite the horrors within it.
Her thoughts momentarily turned inward. In just a few weeks, a new chapter of her life would begin. But where would it start? She very much wanted to travel, to see the world. Growing up in that tiny, non-descript village, she'd never gone anywhere. Her mother had said they couldn’t afford holidays, that she was a single parent raising a child in difficult times. That had been true, but Emily also knew her mother found it difficult venturing out into the village without breaking into a panic, never mind an entirely different part of the world.
When Emily had first left for university, her mother had barely coped with only seeing her at weekends and would call several times a day, sometimes in tears, sometimes in spiteful anger. Even now, when Emily visited, her mother seemed incapable of enjoying their time together, instead counting down the hours until she would be left alone again, or taking to washing her hands, over and over, scrubbing them with steel wool until they were red and bleeding.
Emily stared at the faint lines of scars on her own hands. She hadn’t been home for over a month now. The guilt weighed heavy in her chest, but she would be lying if she denied she felt the freedom of relief.
How would her mother react to the news that Emily was going to accept a job at High Mount Secondary School and remain in Somerset? Or that she was going to disappear for a year to travel the world?
It was the kind of news that would finally tip her mother over the edge.
Her head heavy on her shoulders, Emily walked on. Was it her fate? To return to the village where nothing ever happened? Where change was feared? She still had a few friends there. And her mother, of course. Lewis Hemmingway was still sending her occasional, flirtatious text messages, alluding that she was ‘the one that got away.’ But what about teaching? What about seeing the world?
Emily shook the thoughts from her mind as she became aware of the low rumble of a car engine.
She turned. Then froze. A black BMW was pulling up beside her.
Her first instinct was to run, but her feet were cemented to the ground.
The driver window slowly descended, revealing Damien Harris. Emily was immediately struck by how handsome he was – square jaw, full lips, soft brown eyes that gave him an air of vulnerability. She hadn’t expected that. In her mind, all drug dealers were pasty and scarred. Damien’s attractiveness was disarming. Dangerous.
“Are you Emily?” he asked, his voice smooth and syrupy. His eyes were fixed on hers; a hunter studying his prey.
Emily tried to step back but her legs betrayed her.
“How... How do you know that?” Now her voice was betraying her, too.
Damien shrugged, flashed a warm smile. “The same way you went looking for me. I hear you've been asking questions. Saying things...”
Down the street, children continued to play with a football. Emily gripped the straps of her bag as she made a mental inventory of its contents. There was nothing she could use as a weapon.
“Cat got your tongue?” Damien smiled again, flashing perfectly aligned teeth. “Why are the police looking for me?”
“It’s Becky. . .” Emily managed to stammer. “Becky Briar. She’s missing.”
“Never heard of her.”
The smile remained but now there was a glint of something dark and dangerous in his eyes. Emily didn’t dare look away.
“Becky's been missing since Sunday. If you know where she is. . .”
“I told you, I don't know her.”
A young couple were approaching, holding hands and deep in conversation. Emily’s gaze flicked towards them then returned to Damien. “You were seen on Sunday evening, arguing with Becky. She got into your car and you drove away.”
Damien leaned towards the window. “Who saw me? Was it you?”
The couple reached the car and dropped their conversation to a hush as they passed by. Then they were gone, shrinking into the distance.
“Why don't you get in the car?” Damien said. “We can talk in private.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Whatever you think you saw, you’ve got it all wrong.”
Emily’s heart pounded in her ears. Down the street, the couple had almost disappeared.
“I’m not having this conversation out in the open,” Damien said. He nodded at the empty seat beside him. “I promise to be good.”
Emily stared at her feet, willing them to move. “You need to talk to the police and tell them what you know.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because if you don't and something happens to Becky, the first person they'll suspect is you.”
Her pulse was racing, her breaths growing fast and thin.
Damien laughed. “And I'll tell them that whoever saw me is mistaken. Tamara will back me up. She’ll tell them I was with her all evening.”
The smile returned to his lips; only this time it had a sharp edge.
Emily swallowed hard. “How can you be sure there was only one witness?”
Damien’s smile vanished, taking his calm demeanour with it. “Listen to me. I don’t need the pigs sniffing around my business. And I’m not going to prison because of that stupid bitch.”
Emily winced. She hated the word. “Then why don’t you tell me what happened?”
“Get in the car and I will. I promise I’ll behave – hurting women isn’t my style.” Switching off the car engine, he removed the key from the ignition. “See? We’ll do a deal. I’ll tell you about Becky if you tell your uniformed friends you were mistaken. That it wasn’t me you saw.”
Emily hesitated. Her eyes returned to the empty seat.
Damien leaned across the car and popped open the passenger door. “Time’s ticking.”
Shit! Emily stepped forward.
“Give me the keys,” she said. “Give me the keys and I’ll get in. But only for a minute.”
Damien stared. Slowly, he broke into a blinding grin. “I like you. Under that boring exterior, you take no prisoners.”
He dangled the car keys between thumb and finger.
Ignoring the voice shrieking in her ear, Emily plucked the keys from his hand and stepped onto the road. Taking one last look around, she opened the passenger door and climbed in.
The interior of the car was all chrome and black leather. A hula girl figurine sat on the dashboard in no mood to dance. Emily had expected the car to reek of marijuana, but the only smell invading her nostrils was Damien’s cologne. Sitting so close to him was unnerving; like sitting next to a coiled snake. She eyed the door. If he tried anything, she would throw his keys and make a run for it.
“Don’t freak out.” Damien said, staring at her with unblinking eyes. “You’re safe with me.”
Emily looked away. “What do you know?”
“I didn’t hurt her. I know that’s what you’re thinking. I didn’t touch a hair on her damn head.” He leaned back a little, looking off into the distance. “Becky owes me money.”
“For drugs?”
“Yes, Officer. For drugs. She owed me for a long time, kept borrowing and promising she’d pay me tomorrow. Tomorrow never came. Her debt kept mounting. I told her enough was enough, I wanted my money. She was meant to bring it to me on Sunday. The dumb cow turned up empty handed.”
“So, you threatened her.”
�
��I was pissed off. Pretty unsurprising, given the situation. I may have said some things, but I don’t make threats lightly.”
Emily felt her body inching away from his. Perhaps getting into the car had been a mistake.
Damien ran a hand over his cropped hair. “She told me she could get me the cash that night, but she needed a ride. I had plans with Tamara but I wanted my money. So, I drove Becky. Thanks for telling Tamara all about that, by the way. She’s giving me the silent treatment.”
“From what I hear, you’ll recover.” Emily risked a glance out the window. Across the street, a cat crawled along a wall. “Where did you take her?”
“A few miles from here. Somewhere in the countryside. I didn’t see the house, just the gate. It was one of those big ones that usually come with mansions. Becky told me to wait in the car, that it wouldn’t work if I showed up with her. She promised she’d be back in ten minutes. She walked to the gates, someone buzzed her through. That was the last time I saw her.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the bitch didn’t come back out. I called her phone, but she didn’t pick up. I even got out and buzzed the gates. No one answered. The stupid bitch pulled a fast one on me.”
A flash of anger shot through Emily’s body. “Can you please stop using that word?”
Damien bowed his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
“She didn’t say who lived at the house?”
“No. Anyway, I waited some more, but I had places to be. I told myself I’d get that bi...that I’d catch up with her the next day.”
“What about an address?”
Damien leaned towards the dashboard and tapped the screen of the built in Sat Nav device. “She put it in here.”
Emily’s mind raced. Who did Becky know that lived behind private gates in the countryside?
“You may have been the last person to see Becky,” she said. “You need to tell the police what you’ve told me.”
Damien laughed. “You think I’m going to walk into a pig station and tell them what me and Becky fought about, just so they can arrest me? No fucking way.”
“But the house ... she could still be there. What if she’s being held against her –”
Damien reached across the car and placed a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, pushing up against the door.
“Now, you listen to me,” he said, his words deliberate and low. “The only reason I told you anything is because I don't want the pigs breathing down my neck. Which means you tell them you were mistaken – it wasn’t me fighting with Becky that night. It was someone else. If you want to check out that house, fine by me; I’ll even give you the address if it means I’ll get my money. But you don’t talk to the police. Understand?”
He was close enough now that Emily could feel his breath on her face. Somewhere outside, she heard laughter. A car drove past and was gone.
“I don't want to get anyone in trouble,” she whispered. “I just want to find my friend.”
“And I just want my money.” Damien stared at her for a long time, his gaze moving from her eyes to her mouth. Slowly, he pulled away. “If you tell the police about me, you will regret it. I'm not a bad person, but I have a business to protect. I want Becky found. I want my money. Do we have an agreement?”
Emily nodded stiffly, her skin crawling as Damien leaned forward and switched on the Sat Nav device.
“Becky’s not your friend, by the way,” he said, searching for the address. “She’s no one’s friend. Not even her own.”
He showed Emily the Sat Nav screen. With a trembling hand, she tapped the address into her phone.
“Now be a good girl and run along.” Damien didn’t look at her again, even when she threw the car keys into his lap. But as she turned to leave, he said, “Remember our agreement. I wouldn’t want anyone else to get hurt.”
Emily climbed out of the car. She watched Damien roll up the window, start the engine, and pull away. Only when the BMW had disappeared into the distance did she allow herself to breathe again. Her body trembled. Her heart hammered in her chest.
“You’re an idiot, Emily Swanson,” she said. “A dangerous, stupid idiot.”
But now she had a lead.
The question was, what did she do with it?
8
ANGELA JACKSON WAS deeply unhappy. She sat behind the wheel of her VW Beetle, lips sealed together, brow pulled over worried eyes. She had barely spoken a word since Emily had shown up at her house and begged her to drive her out to the countryside. She had refused at first, complaining that she needed to study for the finals. Besides, she was still recovering from being interviewed by the police. But Emily had pressed on, telling Angela about her encounter with Damien, and how he’d demanded to know who’d seen him with Becky that night.
Now the town was dwindling in the rear-view mirror, tangerine sunset painting the roofs, as the VW headed into the countryside. Soon, they were passing fields of corn, maize, and rape.
“I’m sorry for dragging you into this,” Emily said, glancing at Angela. “Charlotte wasn’t home and you’re the only other person I know with a car.”
Angela was quiet, her eyes on the road. “I still don’t understand why we’re out here. Shouldn’t you be passing this information onto the police?”
“I will. First I want to see if Damien’s telling the truth.”
Damien’s threats echoed in Emily’s mind. The truth was that she did believe him. It was the police force she was having difficulty with. Of the crimes they were currently investigating, Becky’s disappearance was not a priority. It was a small station with limited resources, so why waste time looking for someone who had probably taken off somewhere?
But Emily didn’t believe Becky had skipped town. She had no evidence, just a feeling in her gut. If there was something at this address that could prove Becky was in trouble, surely the police had to respond.
The robotic voice of the Sat Nav instructed Angela to turn left. She spun the wheel, turning onto a narrow lane, with a sign that read: Private Road. Tall hedgerows flanked the vehicle’s sides, then were quickly replaced by a long tunnel of arching trees. Angela's grip on the steering wheel tightened as the vehicle plunged into shadows.
“This must be it,” Emily said. “Pull up over here.”
Angela slowed the car to a halt. A short distance away, a pair of wrought iron gates stood between two granite pillars. The gates were impressive: black and towering, with an ornate crest of two facing lions rearing on their hind legs, while serpents writhed around their bodies.
Beyond the gates, a wide gravel road curved sharply before disappearing into woodland.
Angela’s wide eyes moved from the gate to the rear-view mirror. “What was Becky doing out here?”
It was a question Emily couldn’t answer. According to Damien, Becky had entered those gates and never returned.
Angela cleared her throat. “Damien was telling the truth. So, I’ll drive you to the police station, but I’m not coming in. I know I’m a pushover, Em, but this is just too much.”
Emily reached for the door handle.
“What are you doing? Emily, no! Did you listen to anything I just said? We need to go. Now!”
But Emily was already climbing out of the car.
“I'm just going to look through the gates,” she said. “Just one look and then we’ll go.”
“Emily, you’re being –”
Emily shut the door and turned her back on the car. She walked along the road until she reached the gates. They were even more impressive up close. Wrapping her fingers around the bars, she peered through. It was quiet. Still. Whoever lived here, privacy was clearly important to them. Which usually meant there was something to hide.
Emily pulled on the gates, unsurprised to find them locked. There was an intercom on the left pillar and a steel plaque on the right: Beaumont House.
Taking out her phone, Emily snapped a picture. Peering back at the car, she held up a finger and mouthed, “One
second.” Through the windscreen, she saw Angela furiously shaking her head.
Emily stepped up to the intercom. Temptation stole into her fingers. Whoever lived inside could have helped Becky to get away from Damien. They could know where she was.
Or she could still be inside, hiding out.
If that was true, why hadn't she replied to any of Emily's calls or text messages? Her finger hovered over the buzzer. What if Becky was still inside – but she was being held against her will?
Before she could stop herself, Emily pressed the button.
She waited, drumming her fingers against her thighs.
When no one answered, she turned to stare at the tall dry-stone wall that ran the length of the road. Behind it, trees stood side by side like sentries. The wall was climbable. She could take a quick look. See what lay beyond the bend in the road. She could be in and out in less than two minutes.
Ignoring Angela’s angry waving, Emily walked alongside the wall, running fingers along the stonework, until she came to an abrupt halt a few feet from the gate. Finding a suitable foothold, she sucked in a breath, then hoisted herself up and over. A moment later, she landed nimbly on her feet on the other side of the wall.
She glanced around, then got moving, weaving between the trees until she reached the gravel road. More trees flanked the other side. The closed gates were on her left. She turned right, gravel crunching beneath her shoes as she headed towards the bend.
Uncertain of what lay beyond, she ducked back inside the woodland. The road twisted to the left. She followed it with her eyes. Up ahead was a wide drive containing a cluster of expensive cars. Beyond the drive was a grand house built of yellow sandstone and capped by a slate roof. It was the type of house she'd seen in period dramas on television, with countless bedrooms and servant quarters in the attic.
Emily stood in shadows, enthralled by its grandeur. Who lived there? More importantly, was Becky inside? Pulling out her phone, she switched to camera mode, zoomed in, and began snapping pictures of the house. Next, she took photographs of the cars. One of the vehicles stood out from the others; unlike the classics, it was a modern five-door hatchback. She pinched her phone screen, zooming in, and took fuzzy pictures of the license plates.
Wish Me Dead Page 3
