by Carla Kovach
She exhaled under her breath. ‘I’m just visiting my mother.’
‘You said your mother was dead.’
‘She is. I’m at the graveyard. I’m sorry. I just need some time to myself, can you understand that?’
‘Of course. Call me when you have something. If you need to talk, you know where I am.’ Briggs ended the call, leaving Gina once again in solitude.
‘Sorry, Mum. I have to go. Did I tell you I’m a detective now? I know I didn’t. I wished you’d have been around to see me climb the ranks. When you last saw me, you must have been so disappointed.’ Her mother would never know she’d joined the police and carved out her career over the years, finally becoming a detective inspector. ‘All you saw was a failure. I must have been such a disappointment.’ She’d once been a young woman with no direction in her life, living with a man her parents could see was bad for her. ‘I hope you’d be proud of me.’ How could anyone be proud of her after what she’d done? Finding bad people was all she could do to make it up to the world. She owed it that much. She stroked the rough headstone and used the top of it to help her stand.
Under the moon’s light she could see the blood mingled with dirt on her hand. As always, she wore her black trousers. Wiping the muck and blood on them, under her coat, she began the walk over the grass back to the car. Something felt wrong. Walking away felt like she was leaving her mother all over again. A tear began to trickle from the corner of her eye. ‘Not now, Harte.’ She wouldn’t cry. She’d never allowed herself to properly cry over her mother’s death. She didn’t deserve to grieve and feel that sense of relief that comes with letting it all out. She couldn’t take people’s love and sympathy after she’d been such a bad person. Forgiveness had to be earned and, up to now, she hadn’t earned it. Another day, another month, another year – however long it took, she’d continue to endure the pain of regret.
‘Bye, Mum.’ She raised the rest of her hot chocolate and drank in memory of her mum’s special hot chocolates. She pulled her hair into a scruffy ponytail and got into the car knowing that there was one thing she could do. She had to do it, maybe then she’d allow herself to grieve. She had to find Susan and take her back to Mary.
She struggled to release the handbrake with her frozen fingers, eventually she pulled hard enough and began driving away from the darkness of the graveyard and the darkness that stirred within her.
Eight
‘Shut up! You know what will happen if you squeal one more time.’ I carefully move the brown lock of hair that falls over Susan’s eyes before leaning over and kissing her tears away. Her stare makes me shiver, it’s like she’s reading my thoughts but I know her well, better than she knows herself. As I look at her, I’m slightly sad. It’s always those closest to us who deceive us. They can after all get away with it, we trust them. I trusted you.
A crow squawks in the eaves of the building, flapping as it escapes through the roof, into the night. I grin before breathing on her, enjoying seeing her squirm. She asked for it and I’m going to deliver.
‘They’ll come for me,’ she murmured as defiantly as ever.
‘Really?’ I roar with laughter as I lie next to her on the threadbare couch, feeling the dampness soaking through my jeans. ‘Aww, bless you. You think someone will miss you, don’t you? No one is looking for you, I can tell you that.’ I place my arm around her shivering body just like I used to back then and I smile before kissing her again on the forehead. She flinches.
I roll off the couch and grab the gaffer tape from what is left on the desk, accidentally scraping a nail full of mould as I grab it.
‘No, please. I won’t make a sound. Not the tape again—’
‘It’s okay, darling. I have work to do, but I’ll be back. Or will I? Maybe I’ll just leave you here to rot, like you did to me back then.’ I pull the blanket over her shoulders, the one that my wife knitted for our daughter, square by square – the only thing I have left to remind me of her. ‘That should warm you up a bit.’ Hands tied, feet bound, I know Susan has no option but to be grateful. I’m in control now. You don’t get away with ruining my life, however much you all snivel and cry.
A stir comes from the other room and it isn’t just the pigeons. One look at Susan tells me that she knows what I hide from her. Tears well up in her eyes.
‘At least you’re not alone any more. Maybe I will come back with another friend for you. The whole gang can be together again.’
Shaking her head, she makes a feeble attempt to kick out with both legs, further tangling her bloodied hair around her face. She splutters as she tries to spit it out. I like to see her in discomfort. I pull off a strip of tape and place it over her mouth, rubbing it firmly over her lips. I don’t see fear at the moment, I see anger. I flick the torch off plunging her into darkness, locking the door as I leave. I know that not being able to see will play on her mind. I will get fear, I promise you. This is just the beginning.
Nine
Thursday, 14 November 2019
Gina and Jacob finished the rest of their coffee as Ryan paced between the living room and the hallway.
‘Jasmine, don’t argue with me. Brush your teeth now.’ He glanced back at the detectives. ‘They don’t seem to understand that I have to make sure we’re all out on time so I’m not late for work.’ He grabbed his drink and slumped into the chair. ‘As I said, on Tuesday Susan called me about picking the girls up from school as she had work to do, that’s all I know. She hasn’t called me and she hasn’t answered any of my calls since.’
Gina placed the cup on the side table. ‘Mrs Hudson mentioned that you and Mrs Wheeler were going through a divorce.’
‘Oh here we go. Wife goes missing, it’s the soon-to-be ex-husband’s fault. I have no idea where she went. None whatsoever. Do you think I want this? I have two kids and as it stands I need to get them ready for school so I can get to work on time. She’s just gone off on one.’
Jacob scribbled a few notes down.
‘Gone off on one? What do you mean?’ Gina wondered how he could be so uncaring. The mother of his three children had now been missing for two nights and he seemed to be blaming her.
‘Attention-seeking. I wanted the kids more, she put her foot down so she’s punishing me. She’s saying, right, you can have them now. I’m ill-prepared and she knows it. I haven’t had time to sort out a breakfast club for the girls and Rory is still with Mary. She knows she’s dropping me in it and I bet she’s somewhere, smirking away while I’m juggling all these balls.’
He really had no appreciation for what his wife did on a daily basis. Gina wished it was all one big joke on Susan’s behalf but she wasn’t having any of Ryan’s explanation. From what she’d read on her file, the nursery staff said she had never given them cause for concern when it came to picking Rory up. Mary, Susan’s own mother, was convinced that she would never leave her children. ‘Mr Wheeler, we are taking your wife’s disappearance seriously and we urge you to do the same.’
He stared at the ceiling, a sarcastic grin spreading across his face. ‘In that case, I have nothing that can help you. She was seeing some bloke but I have no idea who he was. Maybe you should look into that. She’s probably with him. I have to go, work to do, money to earn, kids to look after.’
‘Dad, Jasmine hasn’t got her PE kit.’
‘Okay, Phoebe. I’m coming. I’ll sort it.’
Gina leaned forward in the chair. They weren’t going to get much else from Ryan Wheeler. She couldn’t force him to speak and she didn’t have anything to arrest him for.
As they headed back towards Gina’s car, she glanced back through the window. Ryan walked back and forth, searching for things under piles of clothes and junk. It was obvious that he’d been plunged into chaos and it was even more obvious that he thought very little of his missing wife.
‘Guv, we have to get to Susan Wheeler’s house. Mary is there now. She said we can have a quick look around.’
Ten
Afte
r showing DI Harte and DS Driscoll around Susan’s house, Mary ushered them back into the hallway while Clare rummaged through the kitchen. She was determined to be the first person to go through Susan’s things, not the police. Mary didn’t want them snooping around her daughter’s personal belongings – not yet, she wasn’t ready for that.
‘You say Susan lived here with the two girls and her son?’ DI Harte asked as she stood in the hallway next to the console table.
‘That’s right, since Ryan left a few months ago it’s just been her and the kids.’
‘Do you know if Susan had started a relationship with anyone else?’
They were prying. Mary could feel the weight of that question as she wracked her brains for something to say. Her daughter went out a lot, she enjoyed herself but she was still young. ‘No, she’d not mentioned anyone else. I know she would have told me if there was someone else.’
‘Her husband seems convinced she was in a relationship.’
Mary shrugged, not knowing how to respond. It was the first she’d heard about any relationship. She knew Ryan would try anything to discredit her daughter. ‘He’s wrong. There was no one else. Look, if I come across her diary or anything that might be useful, I will call you straight away.’ She ushered the reluctant pair out of the hallway and onto the path outside. ‘Please just keep looking for her, thank you.’ With that she closed the door and took a deep breath. She needed to begin her own search of Susan’s house and she needed to do it in her own time without anyone breathing down her neck. If there was a clue to be found, she was going to find it. She hurried to the living room and peered out of the windows. Detective Harte glanced back at her as she drove off.
‘Clare, make sure you go through the junk drawer. Check the magazine rack and the coffee table. There has to be something, somewhere.’ Mary walked up the stairs, leaving Rory and Harrison downstairs with Clare. It would only be a matter of time until the police would want a proper look around. Mary had to be first. If there was anything to find that would give away her daughter’s whereabouts, she needed to see it with her own eyes.
‘What exactly am I looking for, Mum?’
‘Anything. Look for notes she’s made about where she might have been. Her diary – that would be useful. See if her phone or tablet are around. Maybe she left her phone behind, which may be the reason she hasn’t been answering.’
That was all she could tell her daughter as she didn’t know exactly what she was looking for. She pushed Susan’s bedroom door open, releasing the damp odour once again. The police must have thought her daughter was having some sort of breakdown given the state of her house. Clothes were strewn across the floor and the little waste bin was full of make-up wipes. A ray of winter sun stretched across the room through the join in the curtains, highlighting the dust motes in the air. The house felt empty and cold, unlived in and abandoned. Susan had never been this messy. Her home had always looked like a show home up until Ryan had left.
She opened the window, releasing the musty smell that came from the toppling tower of crumpled towels. A chilly breeze whipped up the curtains. Shivering, Mary slammed it shut. She didn’t want Susan to come home to a freezing cold house. She rooted through a pile of magazines and books that lay beside her bed. At the bottom of the pile lay a plate with what had once looked to be toast. The burnt bread had long been stuck to a copy of Good Housekeeping. This wasn’t like Susan.
Mary grabbed Susan’s pillow and hugged it as she sidled onto the bed. She should have recognised the signs. If the police suspected she’d had a nervous breakdown, they were probably right. The more Mary glanced around the house, the more it seemed to be a plausible explanation. The divorce had started. She was going out more and turning up the following day to collect the kids with a hangover. Her youngest had been losing it before her very eyes and she’d stood by and done nothing. She almost burst into tears as she imagined her daughter, roughing it so that she could be alone while she gathered her thoughts. Maybe her daughter had tried to hurt herself and was lying in a ditch somewhere, in pain, hoping to be rescued. No, Mary had it wrong. She had to keep positive. Susan was tough and she would come home.
She slid open her bedside drawer and rooted through the fashion jewellery and old pairs of sunglasses. Tissues, condoms – packet unopened. Was her daughter seeing someone else like the police had thought? Or, did she and Ryan use the condoms? Mary had no idea. It wasn’t the type of thing they’d ever spoken about. Sleeping tablets. She remembered the night terrors that Susan had as a teenager, the ones in which she would lie on the bed in the dark, eyes stark and paralysed as she screamed like she was possessed. It had terrified Mary as much as it did Susan.
Mary had been so wrapped up in Clare and Harrison’s daily dramas, she hadn’t asked Susan what was going on in her life or if the nightmares had come back. Maybe the sleeping tablets helped.
She placed the pillow back in its rightful place and headed to the landing, leaving a dip in the bed where she’d been sitting. A damp smell still hung in the air. She’d turn the heating on for a bit before they left. Dry the house and hope that the smell would dissipate. Maybe she’d come back later and have a good clean up. Clare yelled at one of the kids to stop something. Harrison screamed and Rory began to cry. Another day of much the same. Noise and chaos.
She pushed open the door to the girls’ bedroom. Phoebe and Jasmine always had a messy room. The clothes, magazines and games that were scattered everywhere didn’t cause any alarm. She headed to Rory’s bedroom. His little bed at the one end of the box room was topped with a tangled-up quilt. Just like Susan’s room, the curtains were still closed. Pull-up pants were scattered over the floor and Mary winced as the smell of urine overpowered the room. Mary followed the odour and it led her to Rory’s bed. Susan had obviously left in a hurry on Tuesday morning if she hadn’t put the dirty sheets in the wash. Mary would definitely have her work cut out in cleaning the house. It was the least she could do. Susan deserved to come back to a fresh, clean home.
The door to the last room was closed – Susan’s office. The door creaked as she let herself in. This was the only room in the house that appeared to be organised. Susan’s in-tray, marked current jobs, seemed to be toppling over. The pile continued beside her desk, a pile of precariously balanced paperwork and ring binders. Was Susan behind on her work? Mary crept towards the large oak desk and stared at the doodles on the notepad in front of the chair where the top three pages were covered in drawings, mostly of boxes and spirals, the mindless things a person draws during moments of boredom. Another pile of screwed-up paper filled the waste bin to the brim. Mary lifted it and began sifting through the pages upon screwed-up pages of doodles. Then, she opened the top drawer and caught sight of Susan’s divorce paperwork and she wanted to cry as she read through the notes. How could Ryan do that to her? She wished that Susan was here now so that she could hug her and tell her she was there for her and supported her. She had no idea what her daughter had been going through.
The front door opened. ‘Ryan, any word from Susan?’ she heard Clare asking. Mary placed the notepad and the divorce letters in her bag and headed down the stairs, ready to confront his lies about their relationship.
Eleven
‘Morning, Ryan. You still have a key?’
He placed his keys in his pocket. ‘Of course I do. It’s still my house too at the moment.’
‘Have you heard anything?’ Mary asked as she passed him, shrugging his comment about the house off.
‘Not as yet. The girls needed their books and PE kits so we had to pop back. I’ll go and get them.’
‘The detectives looking into Susan’s disappearance have just left.’
‘They’ve been to mine this morning, just routine stuff, that’s all.’ Ryan bounded up the stairs and stomped across the landing where he began rummaging. ‘Woah – it stinks up here.’
‘I’ll carry on in the kitchen, shall I?’ Clare was holding a couple of magazines. The boys ran
around in circles, singing and shouting in the living room.
‘Yes. Found anything?’
Clare shook her head and headed back to the kitchen.
Phoebe and Jasmine looked almost identical even though there was a year between them. They had both inherited their mother’s dark eyes, curly hair and slight frames, making them look younger. Mary couldn’t believe they were heading to the preteen stage. She wanted them to stay little girls forever but given how Susan had changed in her teens, she doubted she’d recognise either of them in a couple of years. Even more of a reason to spend as much time with them now before they were lost to teenage years then adulthood.
‘Nan, where’s Mum? She’s not answering her phone.’ Phoebe pulled a curl from her mouth. She had a habit of sucking the end of her hair, something Susan always told her she should stop doing. ‘She was meant to pick us up Tuesday night but she didn’t turn up. I just want to come home.’
Mary sat on the stairs, coming down to their level. Jasmine sat next to her and lay her head on Mary’s shoulder, like she always did. ‘Mummy will be home soon, I promise. She’s got some things to do and we’re just here helping her.’ She kissed Jasmine on the head and ruffled her hair.
‘You’ll mess my hair up, Nanny.’
‘What things? She didn’t tell us she had anything to do Tuesday morning when she took us to school.’ The wet strand of hair that Phoebe had been sucking was now stuck to her cheek. Mary pulled it away and forced a smile. The last thing she wanted to do was make the children anxious.
Jasmine furrowed her brow as she thought about what she was going to say. ‘Dad said she went out and didn’t pick us up because she was at the pub. He said she didn’t pick Rory up either and that she left him at nursery. He said that we were better off with him because Mummy wanted to go out all the time and she wasn’t looking after us.’ Her granddaughter was only ten but she knew something was wrong, both of them did.
