Dark Peak

by Adam J. Wright

  A couple of minutes later, when they were walking back across the moors, Elly got a signal on her phone. She called Mitch’s number but still got no answer. They’d agreed to share any information they discovered with each other but the fact that he wasn’t answering his phone was putting her in a difficult position. She knew where Lindsey’s grave was and that was knowledge that had to be acted upon. Calling the police meant betraying Mitch’s trust but what choice did she have? She couldn’t let Lindsey spend another night in that grave, another night lost from the world. She had to do the right thing. For Lindsey’s sake.

  “What’s wrong?” Jen asked.

  “I need to call the police,” Elly said, reaffirming her decision to herself.

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “I promised someone I wouldn’t do that without speaking to him first. He needs to find his sister and he’s afraid that if the police get involved, he’ll lose his chance.”

  “That’s ridiculous. The police need to handle this.”

  “I know,” Elly said.

  “So call them. Or do you want me to do it?”

  “I’ll do it.” As she found the number for the Buxton police station and dialled it, Elly still couldn’t help but feel as if she were betraying Mitch.

  When her call was answered, she gave her name and said she thought she knew where the body of a missing girl was buried. She was asked to hold while she was transferred to the correct department.

  After a minute’s wait, during which Elly wasn’t sure if she’d been disconnected, a woman’s voice answered. “Hello, Miss Cooper, this is DS Morgan speaking. Apparently, you might know where a missing girl can be found, is that correct?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “And what girl is this? Do you know her name?”

  “Lindsey Grofield. She went missing on New Year’s Eve 1999.”

  There was a slight pause, then, “And you know her whereabouts?”

  “I know where she’s buried, yes.”

  “Just a moment, please.”

  Elly heard the phone being covered, probably by the police officer’s hand. DS Morgan’s voice was muffled when she spoke again but Elly could still make out what she was saying. “guv, I’ve got someone on the line who says she knows where Lindsey Grofield is buried.”

  A gruff male voice said, “Bloody hell. Get the details. As if we haven’t got enough on our plate.”

  The hand was removed and DS Morgan said to Elly, “Where is she buried, Miss Cooper?”

  “The Nine Ladies stone circle. I’m telling you the truth. That man seems to think I’m lying.”

  “Miss Cooper, you have to understand, Lindsey Grofield has been missing for eighteen years. How do you know the location of her body? Are you involved in her disappearance in any way?”

  “What? No! I’m telling you where she is. You need to get people here with digging tools. That girl needs you.”

  “Are you at the Nine Ladies now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Miss Cooper, please don’t go anywhere. We’ll be there shortly.”

  “All right. Fine.” Elly ended the call, even though DS Morgan was about to say something else. She understood that the police got crank calls all the time and they were probably under pressure because of the body they’d found on Blackden Edge last night, but she thought they’d jump at the chance to finally find Lindsey.

  She jammed the phone back into her pocket.

  “What did they say?” Jen asked.

  “I don’t think they believed me.”

  “Are they coming?”

  “Yes, apparently. We’ll wait in the car.” She wasn’t sure now if she’d done the right thing by calling the police. What if they thought she was crazy and refused to dig up the grave of daisies? What if they didn’t even investigate the area and left Lindsey there?

  Elly glanceed over her shoulder at the woods and made a mental promise to Lindsey Grofield. I’ll dig you up myself if I have to.

  24

  Discovery

  The first thing Mitch became aware of was a series of beeping sounds. It was a sound he knew well after spending many days and nights beside his mother’s hospital bed. She’d been hooked up to various machines and all of them had emitted beeps and alarms of some kind. He’d wondered how nurses could put up with hearing that noise all the time.

  He opened his eyes and discovered that he was in a hospital bed. The machines were attached to him. He tried to sit up and felt a burning sensation in his side. Groaning, he sank back against the pillows. The machines beeped more urgently.

  A dark-haired nurse came into the room, a look of concern in her eyes. She grabbed a clipboard from the foot of the bed and began writing as she consulted the readouts on the machines. “How are you feeling, Mr. Walker?”

  “My head is pounding. Where am I?”

  “You’re in Manchester Royal. You were brought here by an ambulance. You’ve been stabbed but the blade didn’t penetrate too deeply. The doctor is more concerned with the bump on your head. Do you remember anything about that?”

  Mitch recalled the intruder at Edge House. He remembered crawling across the kitchen floor to his phone and calling someone for help. “I remember,” he said.

  “Well, the police will want to speak with you about that. But there’s someone here who’s been waiting for you to wake up. If she hadn’t called the ambulance, you probably wouldn’t be here with us now. I’ll just go and get her.” She replaced the clipboard and left the room.

  Mitch wondered if Jess had somehow heard about what had happened and was here with Leigh. But when the nurse returned, the woman accompanying her wasn’t his ex-wife or daughter.

  Mitch frowned, confused. “Tilly. How?”

  His cousin smiled and came over to the side of the bed. “You rang me, asking for help. You sounded like you were in an awful state so I called an ambulance and drove over to Edge House. Don’t you remember? You regained consciousness for a while when you were being put into the ambulance.”

  “No, I don’t remember. The last thing I remember is talking to a woman while I was lying on the kitchen floor.”

  She nodded. “That was me.”

  Mitch couldn’t remember putting Tilly’s number in his phone. As far as he knew, her number was only written on the card she’d given him at the bank. How had he managed to call her? “I don’t understand,” he said.

  The nurse smiled at him. “You might be feeling a bit groggy because of the drugs. The doctor will be along shortly and he’ll explain everything to you.” She left the room again.

  Mitch looked at Tilly. “Did they catch the person who stabbed me? I think he’s involved in Sarah’s disappearance.”

  She shook her head. “No, not yet. I don’t think they’ve got anything to go on. You’re the only witness, Mitch, and you haven’t been able to give them a description yet.”

  “I don’t know what he looks like. He was wearing a ski mask.”

  Her face fell slightly. “Oh, well that’s a shame. Why do you think he had something to do with Sarah?”

  Mitch wasn’t going to tell her about the journal or that he thought his father had been murdered. So he just shrugged and said, “I don’t know.”

  She eyed him closely as if trying to decide if he was confused or lying. She seemed to shrug off the answer. “Is there anyone you’d like me to call? What about your daughter?”

  “My phone,” Mitch said, trying to sit up and again experiencing the burning sensation in his side.

  “It’s okay, you lie back. Your phone’s right here.” She picked it up from the bedside table and handed it to him.

  Mitch keyed in the passcode and checked his phone calls. The last call he’d made was to “Aunt Tilly.” He smiled to himself. Leigh had obviously put Tilly’s number into his contact list. He found Jess on the list and rang her. There was no answer. He hung up when his call went to voicemail.

  “Is there anything I can get you?” Tilly aske
d. “I think they’re going to keep you in here for a while. If you want me to go to Edge House and get your pyjamas, toiletries, or anything, just ask.”

  “That would be great, thanks,” he said. A thought occurred to him. “Tilly, how did you get into Edge House? Did you go through the garden gate and the back door?”

  “No, I’ve got a key. I’ve had it for years, since before I had trouble with Mum and Dad. It’s been sitting in a drawer at home, gathering dust. When I knew you were in trouble, I grabbed it and drove over to the house.” She looked sheepish. “Sorry, I suppose I should have given you the key now that it’s your house.”

  Mitch ignored her comment about the key. He was more interested in what trouble she’d had with her parents. He still wasn’t sure that Silas was innocent, despite the man being confined to a wheelchair. And Alice was a real piece of work. Mitch wouldn’t put anything past her. “What trouble with your parents?” he asked.

  Tilly shrugged. “Oh, you know, the usual. They didn’t approve of me having Faith.”

  Mitch frowned in confusion. Was she saying Silas and Alice didn’t approve of her being religious in some way? “Faith?”

  “My daughter, Faith. I was twenty-two when I had her, but Mum and Dad acted as if I was fifteen and had got knocked up at school. They practically disowned me, told me I was bringing disgrace to the family.” She shook her head at the memory. “They said it was because I wasn’t married but I think really it’s because Faith was a girl. Mum and Dad don’t like girls.” She let out a humourless laugh. “You only have to compare how they treat Jack to how they treat me to realise that.”

  “I didn’t know you were badly treated,” Mitch said.

  Tilly smiled but it appeared more like a grimace. “It wasn’t too bad. I suppose I should think myself lucky. The other young Walker women have had it worse; they’ve all vanished.”

  Mitch sat up, ignoring the pain that flared in his side. “Tilly, what was my father like?”

  She considered that for a moment. “I think he was a good man. It’s a shame you didn’t get to know him. He really helped me when I fell out with my parents.”

  “How did he help you?”

  She shrugged. “He was just there, a shoulder to cry on. He listened, which was more than my mum and dad ever did. They treated me like I was stupid. When I was younger, I used to dream of running away and starting a new life in London. I should have done it. Not that they would have cared.”

  “But Michael was different,” Mitch said, bringing the conversation back to his father. He wanted to know more about him, wanted to see if Tilly would let slip that she knew Michael was a killer. Had she known? Had Michael confided in her? Maybe she’d seen something that had made her suspicious.

  “Yes, he was different,” she said. “He cared about other people. After you and your mother left, Uncle Michael spiralled into a depression for a while. He cut himself off from the rest of the family and became reclusive. He barely left Edge House except on rare occasions when he’d go outdoors to sketch or paint. He became obsessed with finding out what had happened to Sarah. I think he thought that if he could solve the case of her disappearance, you and your mum would come back to Edge House and you’d all be a family again.”

  “That doesn’t sound like he cared about other people,” Mitch said. “Only that he cared about getting what he wanted. When my mum took me away, she was terrified. I think she was terrified of him.”

  Tilly let out a sigh that seemed borne of exasperation. “Mitch, you’ve got the wrong idea about your dad. Honestly, he was a caring guy. Every time I went to visit him, he asked me about Silas. He wanted to know all about his brother even though he’d cut all ties with him. He was interested in his family.”

  That caught Mitch’s attention. Had his father been asking about Silas because he wanted to know about his brother’s welfare, or for some other reason? “What kind of things did he ask you?”

  “All kinds of things. Where Silas had been recently. If he’d painted anything new. Whether he’d been out of the house or stayed indoors. I told him my dad’s life was mostly regimented but Uncle Michael wanted to know all the details anyway. He liked hearing everything. I suppose it was the only way he knew to connect with his brother since they’d gone their separate ways.”

  “You said my dad asked if Silas had painted anything new. I didn’t realise he was a painter.”

  “Of course he is. The artistic streak runs in the family. Don’t you remember when we were kids and our parents took us on field trips to paint landscapes?”

  “No,” Mitch admitted.

  She grinned. “They used to take us up to Dark Peak and we’d all have our easels and watercolours. You, me, Sarah, and Jack. I’m sure my dad kept those paintings. They’re probably still at Blackmoor House, in the attic most likely. That’s probably for the best, I’m sure they’re quite horrendous.” She laughed lightly.

  Mitch tried to take in this new information. If Silas was an artist, could the journal have been written and illustrated by him? But it still didn’t make sense that he could be the Blackden Edge Murderer. He’d been wheelchair-bound since the quarry accident in 1977. He couldn’t have abducted and murdered Sarah or Lindsey Grofield. Not without help, anyway. He hadn’t been in his wheelchair when Olivia went missing but he had a rock-solid alibi for that night; he’d been drinking in the Mermaid pub with his wife and father.

  Silas and Michael could have been working together, Mitch supposed, but it sounded as if they’d had nothing to do with each other for years.

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He wondered if he’d ever unravel the mystery of Sarah’s disappearance. The journal had given him hope but now that hope had been snatched away.

  “Tilly, do you know anything about a journal? I think it was my dad’s. He might have kept it in the safe at Edge House.” He watched her closely for some sort of reaction but she was either good at hiding her emotions or the journal didn’t mean anything to her at all.

  “Journal?” she said. “No, I don’t think so. I don’t remember seeing your dad with a journal. That’s more my dad’s thing.”

  “Your dad keeps a journal?”

  She nodded. “Always has. Mum and Jack too. It was a big thing in our house when I was growing up. I only stopped a few years ago and that was only because I couldn’t find the time to keep filling it in.”

  “But your dad still keeps a journal?”

  “As far as I know,” Tilly said.

  Mitch’s mind began sorting through the information, trying to arrange it into a logical pattern. If Silas kept a journal out of habit, didn’t it make sense that he’d journal everything he did, including visiting the graves of dead girls? But if the journal belonged to Silas, how had Mitch’s father gained possession of it and locked it in his safe deposit box?

  Mitch reassessed everything he knew from a different angle. He’d been working on the assumption that his father was guilty of murder. But what if his father had been innocent? Tilly said he’d tried to find out what had happened to Sarah. Had he come upon some clue that led him to suspect Silas? Had he somehow managed to get his hands on the journal by nefarious means? Had he been trying to decode it just as Mitch had been?

  But how would he even know of its existence? Michael had no way of knowing that Silas had written a journal that contained clues to the locations of the missing girls’ graves.

  “Mitch, are you okay?” Tilly asked.

  He realised he’d been staring into space while his mind worked overtime. And his mental gymnastics were all for nothing. He had no way of knowing how his father had come across the journal, assuming he hadn’t written it himself. Mitch felt like he was trying to solve a complicated mathematical equation but that half the equation was missing, rendering the entire thing meaningless.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “If I give you a list of things, could you get them for me from the house? I’d really appreciate it.”

  “Of course, I
said I would. Just let me know what you need.”

  Five minutes later, after Tilly had left the room, Mitch tried Jess’s number. There was still no answer. Probably in a meeting at work, he told himself. He hung up and dialled Elly’s number. He should probably tell her what had happened to him since he’d agreed to share information with her. At least he could tell her that her assumption was correct, the killer—or at least his accomplice—was still at large. He had the stab wound to prove it.

  She answered immediately. “Mitch, where are you?”

  “I’m in the hospital in Manchester.”

  “What? What happened?”

  “Somebody broke into Edge House last night and attacked me.” He lowered his voice. “They took the journal.”

  “Oh, shit,” she said. “Are you all right?”

  “I’ve been better but I’ll survive.”

  “Have you heard the news?”

  “What news?”

  “I found Lindsey Grofield’s grave. The police are digging it up right now. They haven’t told me much but I’ve seen them load a body bag into their van.”

  “Where are you?”

  “A place called Stanton Moor. There’s a stone circle here called the Nine Ladies. I figured out a piece of the journal. I found the grave of daisies.”

  “‘I looked upon a grave of daisies in a glade watched over by the Ladies,’” Mitch recited.

  “Yes, that one. Mitch, I found her. I found Lindsey.” She sounded both upset and elated at the same time.

  Mitch felt his heart sink. He had always known that there was no way Sarah was still alive, but now that Lindsey had been found in a grave of daisies, just as the journal had described, it brought home the fact that somewhere out there was a grave of forget-me-nots in which Sarah was lying.

  Would the police soon be exhuming her remains, putting them into a body bag, and loading them into a van? It would mean the end of a thirty-years’ search but it wasn’t an end Mitch looked forward to facing.