Before You Were Gone

by Sheila Bugler

  ‘Oh come on, Dee. You must have your own idea of why Mike killed that guy.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Dee said, ‘but for now that’s all it is: an idea. I don’t want to jinx it by talking about it just yet.’

  ‘Even though I got you the address and now I’m driving you to Alfriston?’

  ‘Sorry.’ Dee smiled. ‘So, if you didn’t think he was involved in something dodgy – what did you think?’

  ‘All right,’ Louise said. ‘But remember, I want to hear your clever idea as soon as you’re ready to share it.’

  ‘You’ll be the first to know,’ Dee said. ‘I promise.’

  ‘I thought he was being blackmailed. It’s the only thing that made sense. I don’t believe he suddenly turned into a psychopath and killed a random stranger for no reason.’

  ‘Being blackmailed about what?’

  ‘I assumed he was having an affair, something like that. But now I’m wondering, if you’re right and Annie isn’t really their child – that would be a good reason for blackmail.’ She glanced across at Dee. ‘How am I doing?’

  ‘Not bad,’ Dee admitted.

  In fact, Louise’s theory was pretty close to Dee’s. The only difference was that Louise hadn’t made the jump to working out the identity of the man Michael Holden had killed.

  ‘By all accounts they were a really close family.’ Louise frowned. ‘You know, all the time I covered that story, I never once got any hint that Annie wasn’t their child.’

  ‘They’d been out of Eastbourne a long time by then,’ Dee said. ‘Annie would have been – what? – twenty-one at the time of the murder? From the articles I read, journalists barely mentioned her in their stories.’

  ‘They had no reason to,’ Louise said. ‘Although now you mention it, I vaguely remember someone telling me Fiona and Mike didn’t always have a daughter. Who was that? God, it was so long ago… It probably doesn’t matter. I’m sure they said Annie was adopted. That would make sense, wouldn’t it? They adopted Annie and moved to Alfriston soon after that.’

  ‘Of course,’ Dee said. ‘People adopt older kids all the time. It’s the perfect cover. And, as you say, if they moved to Alfriston soon after, there’d be fewer people to ask difficult questions about the adoption.’

  ‘If someone was looking for Kitty,’ Louise said, ‘I doubt they’d make the connection with Mike and Fiona. It’s too tenuous. Who would even know they were friends with your father?’

  ‘I don’t think they were friends exactly,’ Dee said, ‘not really. Dad drank at the pub they ran, but that’s as far as it went.’

  She thought of the painting she’d seen in Annie’s studio. The woman sitting at the bar with a packet of cigarettes in front of her, and a child hiding in the corner. At the time, she’d thought it was a self-portrait. But over the last few days, Dee had pored over every news piece she could find about Robert O’Brien and his wife. She’d seen enough photos of Ursula O’Brien to work out she was the woman in Kitty’s painting. The only question now in Dee’s mind was whether the child in the painting had been Kitty or Emer.

  They’d arrived in Alfriston by now, Louise navigating her way slowly down the high street that was too narrow for two cars to pass each other at the same time.

  ‘I want to move here when we retire,’ Louise said. ‘I love Alfriston.’

  ‘They were pub landlords,’ Dee said, looking out the window at the timber-framed buildings and flint-fronted terraced housing. ‘Alfriston’s an expensive place to live. How did they afford that? Did they even work after they moved here?’

  ‘They sold the pub,’ Louise said. ‘It was a freehold back then. That probably gave them enough money to buy a house somewhere like this. They ran their own catering business after they moved here. You could probably make a lot of money in catering somewhere like this. Imagine all those wealthy people having dinner parties but not wanting to do the cooking themselves. Plus the fancy weddings and christenings and birthdays you could cater for. It could be quite lucrative.’

  She indicated and turned left into the driveway of a classic, flint and red-brick two-storey house set in its own grounds on the outskirts of the village.

  ‘Wow,’ Dee said, taking in the house. ‘It must have been very lucrative.’

  Louise switched off the engine and they got out of the car.

  ‘Looks pretty quiet,’ Louise said.

  ‘There’s a car here,’ Dee said, pointing to the cream-coloured Mini Clubman, ‘maybe someone’s home.’

  But when she rang the doorbell, no one came to answer it.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Louise asked.

  ‘We have a look around.’

  Dee walked around the outside of house, peering through the windows. Inside, the house was every bit as lovely as the outside. Large, high-ceilinged rooms with plenty of original features, all tastefully furnished and decorated. The back of the house had been extended to create a huge kitchen-diner with doors leading to the well-tended back garden.

  ‘What’s that?’ Louise pointed at a low stone building at the end of the garden.

  ‘Looks like an old ice house.’

  Intrigued, Dee wandered over to take a closer look.

  Built entirely out of stone, the little building resembled a stone igloo. It had a thick, wooden door, with an old-fashioned lock. A rust-covered key was in the lock which, after a few attempts, Dee managed to twist around. She pushed her weight against the door and it creaked open slowly. Dee guessed this was the first time it had been opened in years. She stepped forward, into the pitch black and icy cold. A stale smell wafted out and she wrinkled her nose as she switched on the torch on her phone and looked inside.

  ‘Amazing,’ she whispered to Louise, standing behind her. ‘Probably been here since the seventeenth century. They wouldn’t use it today, of course.’

  ‘It’s horrible,’ Louise said. ‘Come away, Dee. I don’t like it in there. It gives me the creeps.’

  Dee was about to tell Louise not to be such a sissy, when she remembered what had happened to her cousin at the beginning of the year. She’d been attacked and locked inside the boot of her car. It was no wonder a dark space like the inside of the ice house would freak her out.

  ‘There’s nothing in there, anyway.’ Dee stepped back and pulled the door closed. ‘Come on, let’s try the house one more time.’

  She walked around the outside of the house again, looking into the rooms and banging on the windows, even though she knew it was pointless. Wherever Fiona and Annie were hiding out, they weren’t here.

  ‘We could wait,’ Louise said. ‘I’ve taken the morning off so I don’t have to be anywhere else.’

  ‘We could,’ Dee agreed. ‘But I don’t think there’s much point.’

  At the front door, she crouched down to peer through the letterbox. She got a partial view of a large hallway with pale blue walls and ornate cornicing on the ceiling. And on the tiled floor, a piece of white paper, folded over, with Annie’s name hand-written across the front.

  ‘Someone’s dropped a note through the letterbox,’ she said. ‘Here, take a look.’

  She stepped back from the door, making space.

  ‘It’s too far away to reach,’ Louise said, ‘if that’s what you’re thinking.’

  ‘There must be some way we can get it,’ Dee said.

  She remembered seeing a shed in the back garden, but when she went to see if she could find something she could use to retrieve the note, the door was locked.

  In frustration, she kicked the shed. But all that succeeded in doing was sending a shot of pain through her toes and into her foot.

  ‘What about breaking into the house?’ she said.

  ‘No,’ Louise said. ‘We’re not breaking the law, Dee. Come on. There’s nothing else you can do here. Besides, that note could have been from anyone.’

  ‘It’s from someone trying to get in touch with Annie,’ Dee said. ‘Which means we’re not the only people trying to find her.’


  ‘Yeah, but you already know that,’ Louise said. ‘Isn’t that why she’s hiding? Because she knows someone is looking for her?’

  ‘I want to know who,’ Dee said, ‘and why.’

  ‘Well you’re not going to find that out by staying here. Come on. Let’s grab a coffee in the village. We can ask around about Annie and Fiona, see what we find out.’

  Leaving the car where it was, they walked into the village and stopped at the first coffee shop they found.

  ‘You’re the second person in as many days to ask me about Annie,’ the young woman behind the counter told Dee. ‘You want to tell me why you’re so interested in trying to find her?’

  ‘Annie’s my cousin,’ Dee said. ‘I was in the area today so I thought I’d see if she was at home. Except we’ve just been to the house and there’s no one there.’

  ‘Annie doesn’t have any cousins.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Louise asked.

  ‘She’s my mate,’ the woman said. ‘Now if you don’t mind, ladies, I’ve got other customers to serve. Enjoy your coffees.’

  ‘Hang on,’ Dee said. ‘I really think Annie might be my cousin. I’m not lying about that. I swear to you.’

  ‘I’ve already told you. Annie doesn’t have any cousins. Both her parents are only children.’

  ‘But they’re her adopted parents,’ Dee said, ‘aren’t they? I think Annie’s birth father is my uncle.’

  ‘How do you know she’s adopted?’

  ‘Because my uncle had a daughter who was given up for adoption. But later, he had another daughter, and now she’s an adult and she’s trying to find her sister. And she thinks that sister could be Annie.’

  ‘This sister,’ the girl said, ‘she’s not Irish, by any chance?’

  ‘She is, actually. Why?’

  ‘She was here yesterday. Asking about Annie just like you. But she didn’t say anything about being Annie’s sister.’

  ‘Tall with dark hair?’ Dee said. Then, when the girl nodded, ‘Her name’s Emer. I don’t suppose you know where she is now, do you?’

  ‘Sorry.’ The girl shrugged. ‘I told her where Annie lived and she left. I haven’t seen her since then.’

  Thanking her, Dee went outside and called Emer.

  ‘It’s me,’ she said, when she got her cousin’s voicemail again. ‘I know you’ve been to Annie’s house. I’ve just come from there, but it’s empty. Call me as soon as you can. I really need to speak to you.’

  ‘Everything okay?’ Louise had followed Dee outside, holding two paper cups. ‘I got your coffee to take away. Here.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Dee took the cup and drank some of the coffee. ‘I’ve just called Emer but she didn’t pick up. Can you drop me home? If she was in Alfriston yesterday, maybe she’ll turn up in Eastbourne today. If she does, I want to be there.’

  Except when Louise pulled up outside Dee’s house, it wasn’t Emer who was waiting on Dee’s doorstep.

  ‘Looks like you’ve got a visitor,’ Louise said.

  ‘What the hell…?’ Dee unstrapped her seatbelt, then changed her mind. ‘Can you drop me in town, Louise? I really can’t face this right now.’

  ‘Don’t be such a coward,’ Louise said. ‘Go on.’

  Dee rolled her eyes, but did as she was told, making sure to slam the door hard when she got out so Louise would know she was annoyed with her. She waited until Louise had turned the car and driven away. Then she walked slowly towards her house, where Ed Mitchell stood waiting for her.

  Thirty-five

  Emer stood in the small art gallery, across the road from the coffee shop, watching Dee. She was speaking to the woman Emer had talked to yesterday afternoon. Part of her wanted to cross the road and tell Dee she was here, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Maeve was right, it was better not to trust anyone until they knew exactly what was going on.

  A moment later, Dee came outside and made a phone call. The sudden sound of Emer’s phone ringing made her jump. When she saw Dee’s name on the screen, she thought her cousin must have seen her. She diverted the call and waited for Dee to cross the road and confront her. Instead, Dee stayed on the phone – leaving a message, Emer guessed. By the time Dee had finished, another woman had joined her and handed Dee a disposable cup.

  Emer watched as they crossed the road, holding her breath until they’d passed the gallery and were out of sight again.

  ‘Are you sure I can’t help you?’

  The man running the gallery was clearly getting fed up with her lurking in here with no intention of buying one of the overpriced paintings on display.

  ‘I’m sure,’ Emer said. ‘Thanks.’

  She stepped outside, checking up and down the street to make sure Dee was really gone. After listening to Dee’s message, she headed back to the fourteenth-century inn on the high street where Maeve was waiting for her.

  They had travelled down from London the previous day, taking a train to Polegate and a taxi to Alfriston. Finding Annie’s house was easier than they’d anticipated. A quick chat with the woman running the coffee shop had given them the information they’d needed. Maeve had waited outside, while Emer spun the woman a story about being an old university friend of Annie’s. The woman had become quite animated, telling Emer how often Annie spoke of her uni friends and how happy she’d be to see one of them turning up in Alfriston. Except when they arrived at the house, it was empty.

  At that point, Emer had wanted to give up and go to Dee’s house in Eastbourne. But Maeve had persuaded her to spend the night in Alfriston and try Annie’s house again the following morning. So they’d found a place to stay and spent the evening working out what to do next.

  This morning, after breakfast, Emer had gone back to the house to try again. Before leaving the hotel, she’d written a note to put through the letterbox, giving ‘Annie’ her phone number and asking her to get in touch. When she arrived at the house, there was a car parked in the driveway – a cream-coloured Mini Clubman. But when she rang the doorbell and knocked on the front door, no one answered. Frustrated, she’d slipped the note through the letterbox and walked back to the village. She’d been passing the art gallery when she saw Dee walking into the coffee shop across the road.

  ‘We should leave,’ Maeve said, when Emer got back to the room and told her about seeing Dee. ‘If your cousin’s here, it’s only a matter of time before she sees you. There’s only so long you can hide in place this size.’

  ‘Go where?’ Emer asked.

  ‘Eastbourne,’ Maeve said. ‘There’s a nice hotel near Polegate – I looked it up while you were out. We can stay there without anyone noticing us, and get back here quickly if we have to. I’m going to look into hiring a car as well. Makes more sense than taking taxis everywhere.’

  ‘How much will the hotel cost?’ Emer said. ‘My money’s running out faster than I can spend it.’

  ‘I’ll pay for the hotel,’ Maeve said. ‘Really, it’s okay. What else am I going to spend my money on? My parents were loaded. I inherited everything when they died. If this woman really is Kitty, and she can tell me what happened to Lucy, then I’d happily spend every penny of my money trying to find her.’

  ‘Only if you let me pay you back when I’m working again,’ Emer said. ‘Make sure you keep track of everything you spend.’

  ‘You don’t need to worry about that,’ Maeve said. ‘Come on. Let’s pack up.’

  ‘You sure it wouldn’t it be better to stay here?’ Emer asked.

  ‘Cooped up in this room all day? No thanks. If Dee’s in Alfriston, that means we can’t even risk going downstairs and having a drink at the bar in case she comes in and finds us.’

  ‘So what if she does?’

  Emer did her best not to sound annoyed, but it was difficult. Letting someone else take charge was harder than she’d expected. The fact that Maeve was now paying for everything didn’t help. It made Emer feel as if she had to go along with whatever Maeve wanted.

  ‘You ca
n’t trust her,’ Maeve said. ‘I thought we agreed about that.’

  ‘You agreed about it,’ Emer said. ‘Dee’s never given me any reason not to trust her.’

  ‘Emer, she told you the most ridiculous story about meeting someone who was pretending to be you. Surely you don’t really believe that’s why she got in touch with you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Emer said. ‘That’s exactly what I believe. You haven’t met her, Maeve. She’s lovely, and she seemed to really care about helping me find Kitty.’

  ‘You think I don’t care about that?’

  ‘I’m not saying that. Sorry. How did this suddenly turn into an argument?’

  ‘None of this is easy,’ Maeve said. ‘It’s a big crazy mess and we’ve got caught up in it because we’re both so desperate for Kitty to still be alive. For you, it means you haven’t lost your sister. For me, it means finding out – finally – what happened to Lucy. I’m starting to wonder if it might be healthier for us both to accept we’ll never get the answers we want and walk away from this before it’s too late.’

  ‘Too late how?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Maeve frowned. ‘It just seems we’ve lost sight of what we’re actually doing.’

  ‘We’re trying to find the truth,’ Emer said. ‘That’s all that matters, and I’m going to see this through to the end.’

  ‘Even if you find out that Annie Holden is exactly who she says she is?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Maeve rubbed her face with both hands.

  ‘Okay. If you trust your cousin, give her a ring and arrange to meet her. See if she can help us find Annie.’

  ‘Brilliant.’ Emer hugged Maeve and grabbed her phone. ‘I’ll need to go outside to call her. I can’t get a signal in here. Thanks, Maeve.’

  Outside, she had to cross the road and walk up a narrow side street until she finally got three signal bars on her phone. She tried Dee’s number, but Dee didn’t answer and Emer hung up without leaving a message. She wanted to speak to Dee in person, not to her voicemail.

  She started walking back towards the inn, and was about to cross the road, when two things happened.

  A silver Lexus came along the high street, driving slowly enough for Emer to get a clear view the driver’s face in profile as the car passed. She put her hand over her mouth, and jumped back, terrified he’d seen her. But he hadn’t looked at her as he’d passed and the car drove on without stopping.