Traces of Her: An utterly gripping psychological thriller with a twist you'll never see coming

by Amanda Brittany

  ‘A-va!’ The voice was haunting, deliberately creepy. ‘Ava, are you in here?’

  Panic shot through her. It was Rory.

  The cubicle was enclosed. He wouldn’t know she was here if she stayed quiet. But her whole body trembled, and her neck prickled as though a spider was scurrying across it. He would hear her fear.

  Something scraped across the floor and banged against the outside door. The chair? He was trapping them in.

  ‘Gail told me you came in here over an hour ago. Are you still here?’

  Silence, as though he was listening. She felt sure he could hear her heartbeat, her rapid breathing.

  ‘She said you had the bracelet, Ava.’ Rory went on. She could hear his footfalls, slow, calculating, as he banged open the doors of the other two cubicles, before thudding on her door three times. ‘What’s going on, Ava?’

  Bile rose in Ava’s mouth. ‘Bastard,’ she whispered.

  ‘Now, now, Ava, is that anyway to talk to your brother-in-law?’

  A rap on the outside door startled her. The sound of the chair scraping on the floor gave her chills.

  ‘Sorry, lovely ladies,’ Rory said, his voice jovial. ‘Got caught a bit short.’

  And then he was gone.

  A rush of women’s laughter filled the room. Ava sighed with relief, opened the door, and hurried out of the toilets, not looking their way. She had to get out of this place. She would run and run until nobody could find her.

  She bolted across the hall, and into Peter. ‘Look after Willow,’ she said over the music, her mouth close to his ear. It was a slow dance – and she glimpsed Rory and Gail swooning into each other’s eyes, him pushing a tendril of her sister’s blonde hair, that had escaped her bun, from her cheek.

  ‘Promise me, Peter, please,’ she continued.

  ‘Why? Where are you going?’

  ‘Never let anything bad happen to her, Peter. Please. I’m trusting you.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘But—’

  ‘Promise me. Say it. Say it!’

  ‘I promise.’

  She bobbed down in front of Willow, who’d been dancing on Peter’s shoes, and touched her little girl’s face – so soft, so pure. ‘Always remember I love you, darling girl,’ she said, and kissed her cheek.

  Willow touched her mum’s face, ‘Are you crying, Mummy?’

  Ava held her daughter’s hand and kissed it three times, trying to hold back tears. ‘Mummy’s going away,’ she said, looking into her eyes. Certain her daughter would be better off without her. ‘Peter will take good care of you. You will be good for Peter, won’t you?’

  Willow looked up at her uncle, and back at Ava. ‘Yes,’ she said, tilting her head.

  Ava straightened up, and threw her arms around Peter for a few moments, breathing in the smell of him – stale smoke and aftershave.

  ‘Stay, Ava,’ he said. ‘I’m here for you.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she said, and dashed away, barging past guests. But before she could reach the door, Gail was beside her.

  ‘You’re finally leaving then,’ she said, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist.

  Ava nodded. ‘And I’m not coming back.’

  ‘For the best,’ she said. ‘I still can’t believe you stole the bracelet.’

  ‘I didn’t steal it.’

  ‘What? You just happened to find it, and didn’t realise it was mine?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then what?’ Her eyes were wide, refusing to let Ava escape from her stare.

  ‘Rory dropped it when he raped me, Gail,’ she said, so calmly, as though she was talking about the weather.

  Gail’s eyes widened further. ‘Are there no end to your lies, Ava?’ she cried. ‘Do you really hate me so much that you’d resort to this kind of evil?’ she yelled. She turned and rushed away, disappearing onto the dance floor, where everyone was now singing along to a cover of ‘Don’t Look Back In Anger’, waving their arms in the air.

  Chapter 41

  ROSE

  Now

  ‘Shall I email Rory Thompson now?’ Becky says, as we head for home.

  ‘Yes, I guess so. The quicker we send him a message the better.’

  Becky opens her email account on her phone. ‘So what shall I say?’

  ‘Mmm. Well.’ My mind goes blank. ‘Just ask him if he’s been to the UK recently. Ask if he’s seen or heard from Willow. The card is in my bag.’

  ‘OK,’ she says, retrieving the card, and typing a message into her phone.

  It’s as we reach the village that Rory responds. Becky reads out the message.

  ‘Hi Rose and Becky. I haven’t heard a word about Willow since she was adopted, and haven’t been to Cornwall in a couple of years. I live in Italy with my wife and two sons. I’d love to see Willow, so please drop me a line when you catch up with her. Best wishes, Rory.’

  Becky looks up from her phone. ‘Well, that’s him out, I guess,’ she says.

  ‘Unless he’s lying,’ I say, as we pull up outside Ocean View Cottage behind a Fiat I don’t recognise. I kill the engine, and we get out of the car. There’s a man by the front door, his back to us. He’s looking out at the bay, a holdall at his feet. Is it the man who knocked on the patio door last night?

  ‘Oh God, is that scary-man?’ Becky says, echoing my thoughts as we hover by the car. ‘Call the police, Mum. Now!’

  He turns, and I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘It isn’t the same man,’ I say. This man is at least ten years older, with short dark hair, a goatee beard, and glasses.

  On seeing us he raises his hand. ‘G’ day,’ he calls, and heads down the path. He stops as he reaches us, his face bright with excitement. ‘Willow?’ he asks.

  ‘No,’ I say, aware I sound blunt. There’s something familiar about him. ‘Willow isn’t here right now. And you are?’

  ‘Peter Millar,’ he says, and I recall the photo of him that Willow sent in the box: the hippy with unruly hair and glasses like Harry Potter. He’s smarter now, tanned, and carrying a little more weight, which suits him. His glasses have trendy red frames, and he’s wearing narrow-legged checked trousers and a white polo shirt with a Kookaburra motive. ‘Willow wrote to me,’ he goes on, and I remember Inspector Jones telling me how she’d got in touch with her uncle. ‘I haven’t seen her for about eighteen years. It was a shock to hear from her.’ He paused. ‘So you are?’

  ‘Rose Lawson,’ I say. ‘Willow’s stepsister, and this is my daughter, Becky.’

  ‘Willow mentioned you both in her letter,’ he says with a smile. ‘She said she was trying to find my sister’s killer.’ His eyes seemed to evaluate us, as though deciding whether to go on. ‘Did you know?’

  I nod, and glance at Becky.

  ‘I promised Ava before she died that I would look out for Willow. But her custody went straight to my mother – her gran – who put her into care after I’d gone back to Australia.’

  ‘Yes, we heard about that.’

  ‘I was never told who adopted Willow.’ He bit down on his lip. ‘But I never stopped thinking about her – hoping she was OK. When I received her letter I was blown away and booked a flight over.’ He glances back at the cottage. ‘So where is she?’

  ‘She’s not here right now,’ I say again.

  There’s an awkward silence before Becky says, ‘She’s disappeared.’

  I glare at her, and she shrugs.

  ‘Disappeared?’ He raises an eyebrow.

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Becky goes on. ‘She asked us to come, but when we arrived on Friday she wasn’t here.’

  ‘I’ve had a couple of messages from her,’ I say, deciding to go along with Becky’s revelation. ‘She said she’s fine, but—’

  ‘You don’t think she is,’ he cuts in.

  ‘Exactly,’ Becky says. I can tell she likes this man, and I think I do too – but my hackles are still up, protecting us.

  ‘Have you spoken to the police?’ he asks.

  ‘Of course,’ I say. ‘Th
ey’ve put out a missing persons report. Checked the hospitals.’

  ‘I’ll stick around,’ Peter says. ‘Find somewhere to stay. I’m not leaving until I know she’s OK.’

  ‘You could stay here,’ Becky says, and my eyes widen. ‘There’s a spare room.’

  He looks up at the cottage, and it hits me it belongs to him – that’s what Jeannette Millar told us. ‘I’d rather not,’ he says. ‘Thanks all the same, but I haven’t got the greatest memories of living there, if I’m honest.’

  ‘Well, come in for a cup of tea or coffee then,’ Becky says.

  ‘No, sorry,’ I say. ‘We’ve got to go out again, Becky. Remember?’

  ‘What? Where?’ She knows I’m lying.

  ‘It’s fine,’ Peter says, as Becky throws him an apologetic look. ‘I need to find somewhere to stay, anyway.’

  ‘Come on, Becky,’ I say, glaring at her before storming towards the cottage, feeling far too hot, but she doesn’t follow, and the arrival of Peter Millar makes me wonder if I can cope anymore. Maybe it’s time we went home.

  Chapter 42

  AVA

  2001

  Ava passed Rory and Gail’s wedding cake, now cut into pieces, unrecognisable as the beautiful thing it once was, and pushed open the door, a blast of cold air hitting her. She stepped away from the village hall, recalling how Rory had messed up booking the venue. Gail had been so upset that her big day would take place in a pathetic village hall. It was as though he’d done it on purpose.

  Ava took off her heels, and the thrum of music faded as she ran across the cold ground, the wind whipping her hair, icy rain stinging her cheeks. It was so much colder than earlier.

  She stopped, picking up the sound of voices on the village green some distance away, making out the shape of two people sitting on a bench.

  ‘Mum wouldn’t want this, Dad. You’re going to kill yourself.’ It was Justin, sounding distraught, and Ava felt a pang of pity for him. They’d been so close at first, lost souls looking out for each other.

  ‘You’re hardly one to judge, son,’ came the reply from the figure now rising and staggering away.

  ‘It wasn’t your fault, Dad. The only thing to blame for her death is fucking cancer,’ Justin cried after him, before burying his head in his hands.

  Ava continued across the car park, darkness covering her like a cloak. She could hear the sea crashing against the shoreline in the near distance, calling to her like a friend. She would go there, to the sea – her favourite place.

  She was about to move on, when she heard the slap of heavy footsteps behind her. Before she could turn, a strong hand gripped her shoulder.

  ‘Maxen,’ she said as she twisted round, and made out his face in the darkness.

  ‘I saw you dash out of the hall. Are you OK?’ he said. ‘You looked upset.’

  ‘I’m fine. I need air, that’s all.’

  ‘I’ll keep you company, if you like.’ His eyes shone glassy in the moonlight, but she couldn’t read them.

  ‘I’m OK, honestly. The fresh air will do me good.’ She stepped out onto the road, but he was soon beside her, too close.

  ‘I’ll walk with you, shall I?’

  ‘No! Honestly, I’d rather be alone,’ she said, picking up speed. ‘But thank you.’

  ‘Well, it’s up to you,’ he said, keeping up with her. ‘But it’s so lonely out here. And there are some right weirdoes about. People do the most awful things, Ava. People you least suspect.’

  ‘I’ll be fine once I’m on the beach. Nobody will be down there this time of night.’ Her voice cracked as she spoke. ‘I want to be alone for a while, Maxen. Please.’

  ‘You deserve so much better,’ he said. ‘That’s what my dad says.’

  ‘Your dad is a kind man.’

  ‘Yes, yes he is.’ He slowed, and she kept going, glancing over her shoulder to see he was being swallowed by the darkness. Almost out of sight.

  ‘I saw Gail has the bracelet now,’ he called after her. ‘I’m angry about that.’

  ‘What?’ She stopped and twisted round. She couldn’t see him, but he was there. ‘What do you mean now?’

  ‘I left it for you,’ he said. ‘I covered you with your coat to keep you warm.’

  Panic pumped through her, and her heart began to race. ‘You left the bracelet that night?’ she cried. ‘It was you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he called. ‘I took it from Rory on his stag party. I wanted you to have it.’

  ‘It was you?’ she cried, taking off, sprinting, her feet scraping on the rough ground. ‘Oh my God, it was you.’

  ‘No. Don’t go. The bracelet was meant to make you happy,’ he called after her, his words haunting her as she ran. She’d accused Rory. Argued with Gail. Ruined their wedding day. She needed to put things right. Turn back. But her legs carried her away into the night, her head spinning with confusion. She’d felt so sure it was Rory who’d attacked her.

  ‘Ava wait, please,’ Maxen cried, as she continued to put distance between them, her chest breathless as she headed for the sea, her eyes streaming with tears.

  Chapter 43

  YOU

  Everything changed in the summer of 2001.

  You announced you were getting married. I didn’t think, even then, you would abandon me. I’d always been naïve, that’s what you said. But still I had thought we would last forever – that nothing would come between us. As far as you knew I’d always done exactly what you’d asked of me.

  ‘You’ll need to move out,’ you said, so cold, so cruel. ‘Gail will be moving in in a couple of weeks.’

  I moved back in with my father. And, yes, I admit I hung about Gail’s cottage in Bostagel. I wanted to see where the woman who was replacing me lived.

  That’s when I saw Ava again.

  I shouldn’t have gone into the cottage, and climbed the stairs. I hadn’t intended to watch her sleeping. But it was as I watched her snuffle, snuggled on her red beanbag, I felt a connection, almost as strong as the one I felt for you.

  Chapter 44

  ROSE

  Now

  Becky doesn’t follow me towards the house. She stays with the man – Peter Millar. They’re talking and I want to stop her. Drag her inside where it’s safe. There’s no denying I’m getting more and more paranoid. But then anyone would be. Wouldn’t they?

  As I reach the door, my phone blasts, making me jump, demonstrating what an anxious state I’m in.

  It’s Aaron.

  ‘I’m home,’ he says, before I can say a word. Becky is calling me from the end of the path, but I can’t hear what she’s saying. ‘Are you still in Cornwall?’ Aaron goes on.

  ‘I am. Yes. But I’m thinking of heading home. I’ve had enough of this place.’ I meant it.

  ‘Has Willow turned up?’

  ‘No, no she hasn’t – not yet, but it’s awful here, Aaron. I can’t stay, my head’s all over the place. I don’t know what to think anymore.’

  ‘Hey, love, slow down,’ he says. ‘Just tell me what’s going on.’

  I push the key in the door, and once inside I climb the stairs, feeling hot and clammy. The weather is turning, and I desperately need a shower. But as I tell Aaron about the night on the beach, the lad in the yellow cap who’s been hanging about, the beautiful house where I saw someone at the window, my mind slips and slides, and I burst into tears. ‘And now Peter Millar’s turned up, Willow’s uncle,’ I say, passing the room Willow slept in. There’s a box of tissues on the bedside cabinet, so I drift in, sit down on the bed, and snatch one from the box. ‘And I’ve no idea if I can trust him,’ I say, sniffing into it.

  Dexter, Rory, Peter, Justin. Dexter, Rory, Peter, Justin.

  ‘I’m on my way,’ he says. ‘I’ll be with you in under five hours.’

  ‘No, I think we should come home, Aaron.’

  ‘But what if Willow’s in danger? I’m on my way.’

  ‘OK,’ I say, gathering my strength. It’s not like Aaron. His usual go-to i
s keeping Becky and me safe. ‘I’ll leave the key under the rabbit by the front door, if we’re out.’

  ‘Great, I will be with you soon. I love you,’ he says.

  ‘Love you too,’ I say, but he’s ended the call.

  I stand up and grab another tissue.

  ‘Where are you, Willow?’ I whisper. It’s then that I notice her jacket isn’t on the back of the chair where I left it, and my heartbeat quickens. I fling open the wardrobe, but there’s nothing but mismatched hangers. The drawers are empty too. Someone’s been here. Someone’s taken it.

  But my panic shifts as I pass the window, and glance out. Becky and Peter have gone.

  ‘Oh God, oh God, oh God,’ I cry, racing down the stairs, almost falling, and throwing open the door. I run down the path. ‘Becky!’ I yell. ‘Oh my God. Where the hell are you?’

  Chapter 45

  AVA

  2001

  Ava lowered herself onto a rock, and looked out to sea. The icy wind howled through the reeds, whipping her hair in front of her face.

  Maxen had raped her on that awful night. Taken away her future with one awful act.

  She pressed her hands hard against her face, holding in tears. She didn’t want to live carrying these thoughts like a ball and chain. She couldn’t take it anymore.

  If I wade into the freezing sea, will death come soon?

  But what would become of her darling girl? Would Peter take care of her as he promised, or would he head back to Australia, leaving Willow with Justin, or worse, her mum and sister – Rory – in a world where Maxen would always be far too close.

  She rose and padded across the sand towards the sea, away from the quiet country road behind her. She felt sober now – her thoughts coherent.

  ‘I can’t stay, Willow,’ she whispered, mist hovering for a moment in front of her chapped lips before disappearing into the velvet black sky.

  She reached the sea, and a froth of cold waves covered her feet. ‘Peter promised he would take care of you, darling girl,’ she said, hoping her words carried the truth, that they would reach her daughter’s ears.