Something was wrong with her ears. Her legs had stopped working as well. She wobbled, trying to keep upright, but she couldn’t do it. Her legs collapsed and she fell forward, straight into the arms of the strange man with the kind brown eyes.
Forty-eight
At first, Dee thought the sounds were part of the stories unfolding inside her head. She was somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Drifting through memories from years ago and moments in the future she’d never get to experience. Imagining Jake at different stages of his life, wondering how long it would take for him to forget her completely. Somewhere, in the middle of it, the voices had started. She thought they’d go away; part of her wanted them to go away so she could get back to Jake’s imaginary future. But the talking continued. She pressed her ear against the door.
There was nothing, at first. Then, when she was starting to give up hope, she heard footsteps. Feet crunching over the broken glass on the patio. The murmur of voices, followed by a scream.
She started banging on the door, shouting until her throat was raw, making as much noise as possible. But no matter how loud she was, no one came. How was it possible she could hear them but they couldn’t hear her?
The tips of her fingers were raw and bloodied from trying to scrape away some of the wood at the top of the door. She’d thought if she could just make enough space to press her mouth against it, she might be able to shout loudly enough to be heard. But the wood was hard and thick and all her efforts hadn’t made the slightest bit of difference.
Every part of her was exhausted. And cold. So cold. She’d stopped feeling her feet some time ago. She tried to keep stamping them, moving around to keep the blood flowing around her body, but trying to move in this cramped space was exhausting. Now, all she wanted to do was lie down and give up. Because what was the point of fighting and trying to keep going if no one was going to come? She didn’t know how long she had left, but it was hours, surely, not days. The cold would get her eventually. One by one, her organs would shut down and her body would simply give up. It would be over.
She thought of the mobile home that would soon be empty, and all the long, lonely days she had to look forward to. Maybe it was better to go now. She’d already lived the best years of her life. She’d been young once. Young and attractive and in love. She’d had a job she loved, a husband she loved even more, and a whole heap of ambition raging inside her, driving her to achieve more and more.
It had all ended, of course. You could only sustain that way of living for a limited amount of time. Working hard and playing harder – it wasn’t a long-term life plan, but she’d loved it too much to give it up voluntarily.
And afterwards, when her world had come crashing down, she’d had to find a new way of living. A simpler existence that brought its own precious rewards. Like the joy of watching a little boy grow up and letting him become a part of her life until she could barely remember what it had been like not to have him around. But now that was coming to an end, what did she have left? Nothing.
She pulled her knees up against her chest, her head and back resting against the door because it was slightly less cold than the stone wall. She let her eyes close, and the pleasure that came from not trying to keep them open was beautiful. It was time to go. She’d found her peace with that now.
The sound of a car, braking suddenly, brought her back. Her eyes shot open, a surge of adrenaline putting all her senses on high alert. She could hear more voices now. At least one woman and one man, possibly more.
She started banging the door, screaming as loudly as she could. She didn’t know who was out there, or even if they’d want to let her out. Maybe they’d rather keep her locked up in here until she died, but she had to try. Because despite everything, she wasn’t ready to die just yet.
At first, she thought it would be like the last time and no one would hear her. But then a miracle happened. A man was outside, shouting through the door, asking who was in there.
‘My name’s Dee,’ she said. ‘I’m a friend of Emer’s. Is she with you? Is she okay?’
‘Dee?’
‘There’s no key.’ A woman’s voice, this time. ‘You won’t get inside without a key.’
‘Give me that,’ the man said. ‘I should be able to use it to prise the door open. Dee! Get away from the door while I open it.’
It took an age, but eventually he managed to crack open the door. And then he was pushing it and light was flooding in, too bright. Dee put an arm over her eyes, protecting them. She stumbled forward and he caught her, putting his arm around her as he guided her outside.
‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘You’re safe now.’
Gradually, her eyes adjusted, and when she was able to take her arm away, he was staring at her, his brown eyes creased with concern.
‘Ed,’ she said. ‘What the bloody hell are you doing here?’
‘I was about to ask you the same question,’ he said.
* * *
Time passed in a blur of activity. The man who’d attacked her – Robert O’Brien – was in custody. Before rescuing Dee, Ed had handcuffed Robert to the door handle of his car so he couldn’t get away. Then he’d called for back-up, which arrived shortly after in the form of a squad car with two uniformed officers and Ed’s partner, Rachel Lewis. The two officers had taken Robert to the custody suite in Eastbourne. Rachel stayed behind to help Ed try to make sense of the mess Dee had found herself in the middle of.
First, though, Ed had to tell Fiona Holden that her husband was dead. Dee remembered the shock of hearing her ex-husband had been murdered. It had devastated her, even though she’d spent the years prior to Billy’s murder convincing herself she hated him. Turned out that wasn’t true. After he was dead, she realised it was possible to still love someone long after you stopped wanting to share your life with them.
‘It’s all my fault,’ Fiona said, when she’d stopped crying enough to be able to speak. ‘I’ve ruined everything.’
‘It’s because of Annie,’ Ed said, ‘isn’t it? All this time you’ve been protecting her. From what, Fiona? You need to tell us, because right now we’ve got one dead man, one abduction, and a prominent Irish politician who’s caught up in all of this for reasons I don’t yet understand. Robert’s in custody at the moment, but there’s going to be hell to pay if we’re not able to explain very soon to the Irish authorities why he’s been arrested.’
Together, Emer and Fiona told Ed everything they’d worked out so far about Kitty Doran’s disappearance.
‘Robert killed Michael,’ Dee said, when they’d finished. She looked at Emer. ‘He wears a distinctive cologne, doesn’t he? I smelled it at Michael’s flat on Sunday morning when I discovered his body.’
‘He’s gone into crisis management mode,’ Emer said. ‘He’s a great man for sorting out a mess. Normally it’s other people’s messes and he hires people to help. With this, he’s had to do it by himself. Because Kitty’s his weakness. Until today, Kitty was the only person left alive – apart from my mother – who knew that Robert killed Lucy and hid her body. Ursula’s not going to say anything, but Kitty might. He’s decided he can’t risk that, so he’s come here to sort it out himself.’
‘I should have stopped it years ago,’ Fiona said.
‘You had your reasons,’ Ed said. ‘Although if we’d known everything earlier, Michael may have got a more lenient prison sentence.’
‘But we’d have lost Annie,’ Fiona said.
‘Kitty,’ Emer said. ‘Her name’s Kitty.’
They were sitting in the elegant sitting room Dee had seen through the window earlier. If someone looked into the room now, they’d think it was five friends sitting around sharing a pot of coffee and some biscuits. So far, Ed had managed to avoid pointing out that Dee had broken her promise about staying away from Alfriston. Although Dee was sure it was only a matter of time before he cracked and said something.
She reached up to touch the wound on her face, remembering the fear
she’d felt as the blade had cut her skin. Rachel had already examined the cut and told Dee the wound was superficial. She’d offered to take Dee to A&E to get it properly checked out, but Dee had refused. She wanted to see this through to the end.
‘What will happen to Robert now?’ she asked.
‘Depends.’ Ed looked at Fiona. ‘Do you think Kitty will be willing to tell the Irish authorities the truth about Lucy?’
‘If we ever find her, then yes, of course she’ll want to tell them what she knows,’ Fiona said. ‘The only reason she hasn’t already done that is because I didn’t want her to.’
‘Because you wanted to protect her,’ Ed said. ‘You shouldn’t blame yourself for that.’
Dee had forgotten how kind he could be. Or how good it felt to sit beside him on a sofa, like now, knowing he was here and he’d do whatever it took to keep all the people in this room safe.
‘My colleagues in London will want to interview you again too,’ he told Dee. ‘The post-mortem results confirm Michael was killed. Which means, for now, you’re the last known person to have seen him alive.’
‘What about Robert?’ Dee said.
‘There’s a window of about an hour between Emer speaking to Michael at the flat and you finding his dead body,’ Ed said. ‘Of course we’ll be questioning him about the murder. Before we do, it would be helpful to understand how he knew where Michael lived. Emer, can you shed any light on that?’
‘Maeve,’ Emer said. ‘I sent her the address that morning, remember Dee? So she could meet us there.’
‘But you didn’t tell her what flat Michael lived in,’ Dee said. ‘You only gave her the building number and street name. It’s a huge block of flats. There’s no way Robert could have knocked on every door until he found Michael. I was back at his flat no more than an hour after you left him.’
‘When I was going up to the flat,’ Emer said, ‘I thought someone was following me. But each time I stopped and looked around, there was no one there. Is it possible Robert had come to the flats and followed me up the stairs?’
‘We can look into that later,’ Ed said. ‘If Robert killed Michael, we’ll find a way to prove it. For now, let’s concentrate on finding Kitty.’
Rachel cleared her throat, a signal Dee recognised. She was about to say something others would find uncomfortable.
‘Fiona and Emer, I know this is difficult, but I think you need to accept the possibility that Kitty’s sudden disappearance is her own choice.’
‘What do you mean?’ Emer said.
‘Isn’t it possible all of this simply became too much? Maybe she just wanted to get away. Make a fresh start somewhere else.’
‘No,’ Fiona said. ‘That’s not what’s happened. She wanted a chance to go back and do the right thing – to tell the truth, regardless of the consequences.’
‘It wouldn’t do any harm to put a call out,’ Ed said. ‘Have you got a recent photo you can give us?’
‘Only on my phone,’ Fiona said.
‘That’s fine,’ Ed said. ‘I’ll give you my phone number and you can send it to me.’
‘What about the other girl?’ Dee said. The fog in her mind was lifting. Replaced with a moment of startling clarity. ‘You said she never checked into the hotel, but her car was still parked outside?’
‘And Kitty’s car,’ Emer said.
Finally, the different pieces started to make sense, and Dee could see how they all fitted together.
‘So if both their cars are there,’ she said, ‘then the chances are they’re still at the hotel, right?’
‘They’re not,’ Emer insisted. ‘I checked everywhere, and the guy on reception was adamant – Maeve never checked in.’
‘What if she used a different name?’ Dee said. ‘All she’d need to do was check in with a false name and you’d never know she was there.’
‘Why would she do that?’ Ed said.
‘Have you got a photo of Maeve?’ Dee asked Emer.
‘I don’t think so.’ Emer scrolled through her phone, frowning. ‘Hang on, we’re friends on Instagram. Just a sec. Here.’
Dee took the phone and looked at the photo on the screen. A young woman with bobbed hair and elfin features. It was difficult to make out the colour of her eyes from the photo, but Dee already knew they were an unusual shade of pale blue.
‘That’s her.’ She handed the phone back to Emer. ‘The girl in that photo is the same girl who contacted me pretending to be you.’
Forty-nine
The darkness lifted and suddenly she was breathing. Just. One nostril was blocked, but she was able to suck air through the other one. Red dots were floating in front her eyes, blurring her vision. A loud noise inside her head, like gushing water, blocked out any other sounds. She could see Maeve. Her mouth was moving, as if she was speaking, but Kitty couldn’t hear her. Then the rushing water stopped and the words started trickling through.
‘Can’t do it… wrong… want to but I can’t. Stop it! Shut your eyes. Don’t look at me. I can’t stand it.’
The words sounded strange, as if she was having problems controlling her tongue. Kitty thought the problem was her ears, that the lack of air had damaged them, somehow. She imagined the sudden rush of blood to her brain bursting her ear drums, damaging her hearing forever. But then she saw the bottle of vodka in Maeve’s hand and realised that’s what was causing the problem with her speech. She was drunk.
The knowledge triggered another surge of panic. Kitty closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe as slowly as she could – not easy under the circumstances – while she waited for the worst of the panic to pass. But it was impossible with Maeve screaming at her.
‘Why, Kitty? You could have sent a letter, done something to let us know. But you did nothing. Not a single thing. Do you know what you’ve done? Do you have any fucking idea the damage you’ve caused?’
Maeve paused to drink from the bottle. When she’d finished, she leaned in, fumes of boozy breath invading the little bit of air Kitty was able to breathe.
‘You’re a psycho. A fucking psycho. You and your whole family. Your parents used to organise sex parties, did you know that? My dad told me about it when she got married to Robert. I suppose your mother stopped all that when she got married again. She wouldn’t have needed the money.’
Kitty remembered cars in the driveway, and the voices drifting from behind the closed door. Robert O’Brien standing in the doorway of the bedroom. Her mother’s face hidden behind the video camera. Lucy’s body illuminated in the car’s headlights. The roar of the engine drowning out the sound of her screams.
‘Fuck it.’ Maeve leaned forward and pulled the flannel out of Kitty’s mouth. ‘But if you make a sound I’ll smash your face in.’ She lifted the bottle and Kitty nodded, letting her know she understood.
She breathed in mouthfuls of beautiful air. Her mouth was unbearably dry, her tongue swollen and thick.
‘Water,’ she croaked. Then, when Maeve didn’t move, ‘Please.’
The dryness was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. She tried to repeat her plea but she couldn’t get another word out.
‘Jesus.’ Maeve stood up. Kitty listened as she went into the bathroom and turned on a tap, the sound of water like a dream.
‘Here.’
Maeve’s hand movements were jerky. The glass clinked painfully against Kitty’s teeth and water ran down her chin and neck, but she didn’t care because she was drinking and she’d never tasted anything this beautiful in her entire life.
‘Thank you,’ she said, when Maeve finally lifted the glass away.
‘I wanted to kill you,’ Maeve said. ‘But now I’ve got the opportunity, I can’t do it.’
Maeve leaned towards her and Kitty shrank back, thinking Maeve was going to try the pillow again. She didn’t have the strength to survive that a second time. Instead, Maeve reached behind Kitty’s back and started playing around with whatever she’d used to tie her wrists together.
‘Cable ties,’ Maeve said. ‘I got them earlier, when I knew I was going to be seeing you. But I forgot to get scissors, so now I can’t untie you.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Kitty said. ‘If you only knew how sorry I am. I’ve thought about Lucy every day since. I’ve gone over it so many times, wishing I could go back to that night and change what happened.’
‘You should have told the Guards.’
‘I know.’
The guilt of it all weighed on her chest and shoulders. Something she knew she would always carry with her.
‘I should have killed you,’ Maeve said.
‘Part of me wishes you had,’ Kitty said. ‘It’s been unbearable, Maeve. Living with the guilt all these years. I’m so glad you finally know the truth.’
‘Well I’m glad too. But don’t think this means I forgive you, Kitty. I’m not ready to do that just yet.’
‘I don’t blame you,’ Kitty said. ‘I’d feel the same way if I was you.’
‘Well, you’ve done the right thing now. That’s got to count for something, I suppose.’
‘What would you have done if you’d killed me?’ Kitty asked.
‘I don’t know.’ Maeve shrugged. ‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead. All I could think about was making you suffer.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Kitty said. ‘I know how pointless it is to say that now, but it’s the truth. I wanted to contact you, Maeve. There were plenty of times when I almost got in touch.’
‘What stopped you?’
‘I was scared. It’s no excuse, I know. I’m sorry.’
‘You’re right,’ Maeve said. ‘It’s no excuse.’ She nodded at Kitty’s legs. ‘You’re going to have to stay like that until I can find something to cut you loose.’
‘I’ve got a nail clipper in my bag,’ Kitty said. ‘Try that.’
Before You Were Gone Page 27
