The Hiding Place

by Helen Phifer

  ‘Are you just nosey?’

  Amy laughed. ‘C’mon, you can tell your Aunty Amy. I won’t blabber to everyone.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s complicated. So where are we going first?’

  Amy grabbed the sheet of names and addresses from the back seat and looked at them.

  ‘We’ll go to the flats on Sun Street first. There’s a bloke there who used to be a security guard, who has a fondness for indecent images of children under the age of thirteen.’

  Morgan shuddered; the world was full of monsters wearing many different disguises.

  ‘What about this Fin guy though?’

  ‘What about him? He’s a nice distraction from all of this heartache. I don’t know him that well; it’s really just a bit of fun. I don’t want anything serious. I just want to be able to let my hair down and enjoy some conversation which doesn’t involve work.’

  Amy nodded. ‘I bet Ben’s not too happy.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t he be? He’s my boss; what I do in my own time is my business.’

  ‘For a start he’s a reporter. He might not seem sneaky but I bet he’s fishing around for something, and I thought, you know, that you and Ben might.’

  ‘Might what?’

  Amy glanced at her. ‘Nothing, I thought you were friends.’

  ‘We are friends, but that’s it.’

  ‘Would you like to be more than friends though? I think you’d make a good couple.’

  ‘Jesus, Amy.’

  ‘Sorry, I’ll shut up now.’

  ‘Ben’s got a girlfriend or at least he’s seeing someone.’

  ‘Nooo.’ The words came out as a shocked cry. ‘Who?’

  ‘Emily, who lives in the flat above me. I’ve seen his car outside and she’s mentioned him a few times.’

  ‘Bloody hell, well the little sneak. It’s true, the quiet ones are the worst.’

  Morgan didn’t have anything to say to that and they drove the rest of the way to Sun Street in silence, Morgan wondering if she could do some more digging into Eleanor’s disappearance without getting herself into trouble.

  Twenty-Six

  Three hours later they had visited all six names on their list: five men and one woman, who had moved here from Doncaster. All of them had let them inside their houses, flats or bedsits to have a look around. They had met little resistance if not a little shock that they were there asking about the two girls. It was well after teatime and Morgan was tired not to mention hungry. She phoned Ben.

  ‘Everyone on the list has been spoken to and their addresses checked; nothing to report I’m afraid.’

  ‘It was worth trying I suppose, thank you. I really hoped that one of them might have had Macy.’

  ‘So were we. What next?’

  ‘Nothing, I have plain-clothes officers sitting in cars around Piggy Lane, just in case they decide to leave her there like Charlie. I don’t know what else we can do, right now. There’s been no contact from anyone, so she hasn’t been taken for ransom. Police Scotland have spoken to her father, who hasn’t been out driving for three weeks; he has a broken ankle.’

  ‘Oh, bugger.’

  ‘Yes, quite. There are officers posted all around Rydal Falls in plain clothes; I drafted some in from other parts of the county. Apart from knocking on every single door in Rydal, and there isn’t enough manpower for that, I literally have nothing left at the moment. Brett cried like a baby. He had nothing to do with Charlie’s disappearance. He’s been seeing another woman which is why he was late for his anniversary meal. He’s a despicable, lying, cheating bastard but I don’t think he’s a killer. He admitted to going out with Carol and then asked what it had to do with anything – it was ten years ago and it’s a small town; they were all in the same year at school. I have to say I believe him, and his other girlfriend was spoken to and confirmed his alibi.’

  She could hear the bitter sound of blame and disappointment in his voice and it made her want to squeeze him tight. He was taking it hard, as if this was his fault.

  ‘Ben, you’re doing everything you possibly can, this isn’t on you. Are you going home for a break? When was the last time you actually slept?’

  ‘I don’t know what to do. Headquarters has drafted in DCI Claire Williams as a full-time advisor from the Murder Investigation Team, to go over everything we have or haven’t done. A fresh pair of eyes might give us some new perspective; I’ve emailed her the files we have so she can read through it all tonight.’

  ‘What should we do?’

  ‘Go home, you especially are running off empty, Morgan. Get some rest, eat, sleep if you can, and if anything crops up I’ve been assured we’ll be the first to be called out.’

  He hung up, and she knew that by ‘crops up’ he was thinking of Macy’s body turning up. Amy was watching her.

  ‘He said to call it a day. There isn’t much we can do.’

  Amy shrugged. ‘This is rubbish. Have you not got any bright ideas? I mean you’re like the super detective of Rydal Falls who swoops in to save the day.’

  Morgan felt a flush of anger that Amy was being so sarcastic, but the look on Amy’s face was one of hope and she realised she was being serious and not rude.

  ‘Knock on every door, park up on Charlie’s street, but Ben said he already has plain-clothes officers dotted around, so it’s already being done. I don’t know what else to do. It makes me feel sick and so flipping useless. Can you drop me off at home? I need to do something to release the tension. I wish I had a punching bag, I’ve never felt so frustrated.’

  ‘Get yourself to the boxing gym on Dalkeith Street. Paul Ryan was a copper before he left to become a personal trainer. He’s been a boxing coach for years. It will do you a world of good and it might help you if you actually learn how to punch properly, with all the scrapes you get yourself into.’

  ‘Thanks, I might just do that but not tonight. I’m going home to try and relax.’

  When Amy reached the drive of Morgan’s apartment she let out a whistle.

  ‘He is keen; how long do you think he’s been sitting in that Porsche waiting for you then?’

  Morgan felt a shudder of annoyance at the sight of Fin’s car. He was always hanging around waiting for her and it was beginning to grate on her nerves. She got out of the car and waved bye as she strode towards the car where Fin was sitting in the front seat typing on a MacBook. She knocked on his window a lot harder than she meant to, and he jumped, realised it was her and gave her that wide, perfect smile. He pressed a button and the window glided down effortlessly.

  ‘Jesus, you scared me.’

  ‘What are you doing here, Fin? This is getting a bit weird.’

  His face went from joyous to wounded, and she felt bad. ‘Oh, sorry, I just wanted to make sure you got home safe. Is it weird? I was just using the car as a mobile office and thought I’d park up here and surprise you.’

  ‘Yes, it’s very weird but that’s also kind of you. I could have been at work until the early hours though. You could only sit and wait here for so long. Would you have gone home?’

  He shrugged. ‘Eventually.’

  She realised if she was going to have to put an end to this relationship before it got going now was the time, but she couldn’t do it. She needed company, someone to talk to and to take her mind off the last couple of shitty days. Why not let Fin be that person if he was willing?

  ‘Come on, I’m starving. Didn’t you offer to get a takeaway and supply the alcohol?’

  He grinned at her. ‘I did, I’m hungry too and will eat anything that you want. I’ll even go and collect it.’

  ‘Well like I told you before we have little choice in the autumn months when the tourists are few and far between. There’s a Chinese, Italian or the chippy – take your pick, because I will literally eat anything I’m so hungry.’

  ‘Italian?’

  ‘Yes, Gino’s does the best pasta. Let’s go inside and I’ll ring it in, then you can go collect it whilst I have a shower.’<
br />
  Fin was out of the car, locking the door before she could say another word.

  ‘Hey, you better move your laptop.’

  He shrugged. ‘Why? We are literally out in the middle of nowhere. Who is going to walk down this long, deserted country road to reach this place and steal it?’

  He had a point, it was very unlikely. They went into her apartment and she took a menu for Gino’s out of the kitchen drawer, passing it to Fin. He studied it then told her what he wanted, and she rang the order in.

  ‘Should I pick up a couple of bottles of wine?’

  ‘If that’s okay, I need a drink after today.’

  He didn’t say anything but crossed to where she was standing and pulled her close to him. Then his lips were on hers and this time she didn’t stop him. The warmth from his body felt good and for a moment she was tempted to tell him to forget about the food and to carry on, but her stomach let out the world’s loudest groan, breaking the moment and they pulled apart. Fin laughed, and she blushed.

  ‘I think you need something to eat, that was mighty impressive.’

  ‘Haha, thank you.’

  He left the apartment, and she locked the door behind him.

  By the time the doorbell alerted her someone was at the door, she’d had a shower and was dressed in her nicest, only pair of black silk pyjamas that she’d bought for a special occasion. She figured this was as special an occasion as she was likely to have. As she looked at her phone to check who was standing outside the front door, she saw it was Fin. His hands full with pizza boxes and a carrier bag that clanked when he moved his hand. She opened the door and he came inside. They sat squashed on the oversized chair in the lounge and ate the pizza straight from the boxes, not bothering with plates or cutlery. In between sipping ice-cold rosé and mouthfuls of pizza, Morgan began to feel human again. She pushed all thoughts of Charlie and Macy out of her mind just for a few hours. They talked about the latest films, books and who should have won the Booker Prize for Fiction, and the best new series on Netflix. When there was nothing but pizza crusts left and empty wine glasses, she let out a yawn and grabbed Fin’s hand.

  ‘Let’s go to bed.’

  He took it and let her lead him into her bedroom.

  Twenty-Seven

  This time when Macy opened her eyes it was dark. The small lamp on the bedside table was on and the tray with the empty plates had been replaced with a sandwich and a can of cola. She had a pain in her tummy and realised that she needed to wee, badly. If she didn’t go to the toilet soon she would wet the bed and she hadn’t done that since she was a baby. The door opened a little way and she saw his face, hiding in the shadows. This time she didn’t pretend to be asleep. She began to wriggle and make a mewling sound. He rushed into the room, closing the door behind him, lifting his finger to his lips.

  ‘Shhh, what’s the matter?’

  He tugged the gag out of her mouth and she whispered, ‘I need to pee.’

  He grimaced. A look of disgust flashed across his face but he nodded.

  ‘Yes, of course you do. How silly of me. You can use the bathroom but no funny business or any noise. If you do as you’re told you can go home tomorrow, but only if you keep quiet. We can’t let my mother know you’re here. Do you understand?’

  She nodded. He untied her hands and feet, but before he let her stand up, he quickly checked outside to make sure the hallway was empty. He kept hold of the back of her T-shirt and marched her to the bathroom. Opening the door and practically throwing her inside, he hissed, ‘Hurry up.’

  Macy rushed to sit on the toilet and felt a sigh of relief she hadn’t peed in her pants. She looked around another room of pink and purple flowers. There were bottles of shampoo, perfume and a dish full of old-fashioned fuzzy hair curlers on the side. She looked around for something she could use to help her escape and spied a small pair of scissors on the shelf above the sink. Flushing the toilet, she grabbed them and tucked them into the waistband of her leggings. Then she opened the door, and he stared at her and she realised that she knew him. Her head was thudding, and her brain felt as if a thick fog was inside it; she couldn’t think straight. Why was she here? What did he want with her? As she stepped outside, he grabbed the back of her T-shirt again and led her back to her prison cell. Once they were inside, he whispered, ‘Hold out your hands.’

  She held them out, turning them over for him to see and hoping he wouldn’t decide to pat her down. He motioned for her to get on the bed and she did. She didn’t feel as if she could think straight enough to fight him, but if he tried to hurt her then she was ready. She would stab him in the eye with the scissors and make a run for it, and if his mother tried to stop her she’d stab her too. She shivered but got on the bed.

  ‘Are you cold? I’ll get you a blanket. We don’t have duvets because Mother doesn’t like them. No, in this house we use flannelette sheets and woollen blankets in the winter, cotton and polyester in the summer. Duvets are for lazy people and we are not lazy; we make our beds.’

  Macy looked at him and thought that perhaps he was crazy; he talked as if he was. She didn’t know what he was on about. He went to the wardrobe. Opening it slightly, he pulled a thick blanket out of it and carried it to the bed.

  ‘Sorry, I need to tie your hands up first, but we don’t need to tie your feet if you don’t make a fuss.’

  Nodding, she let him tie her wrists once more, although they didn’t feel quite as tight this time. He left her feet which was good: she could wriggle around at least. She lay still and he threw a heavy woollen blanket on top of her.

  ‘Do I need to gag you or will you be a good girl? My last friend wasn’t a very good girl. She was too noisy and cried a lot; I had to stop her crying. You can understand that, can’t you? So it’s very important that you don’t make any noise, because I like you and I wouldn’t want to have to make you be quiet like I did with her.’

  She nodded furiously.

  ‘If you make a noise, you know what will happen, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay, I’m trusting you not to mess this up. I’ll be back after to check on you.’

  He scurried towards the door then paused. Turning around, he rushed back over and shrugged as he began to tie the material around her mouth once more, although not as tight as the first time.

  ‘I’m sorry, I want to trust you I really do, but you need to earn my trust. If you don’t do anything stupid I’ll remove it later.’

  Then he was out of the door. She hoped that he might forget to lock it, but the key turned once more and she felt a sense of sadness wash over her. She wanted to see her mum. She lay there, her eyes glistening with tears and heard a voice shout from downstairs, ‘Have you been eating in your bedroom again?’

  The hairs on the back of her neck prickled at the sound of her voice. She sounded strange and scary, no wonder he didn’t want her to know he had her hidden away. The man sounded terrified of his mother.

  ‘Sorry.’

  And then the house was silent once more, apart from the loud ticking of a clock somewhere. Macy lay there and tried to imagine how she could escape. She knew that she could; she wasn’t going to end up staying here forever, and what about that Charlie kid, was she here too? Was she the friend he’d had to hurt to keep her quiet? And if she was, where was she now?

  Twenty-Eight

  Emily had invited Ben over for supper. He had been very late and had phoned her to explain why. She had insisted he still come because she’d made enough food to feed a small army and it was a shame to throw it away. So he had and had seen the arrogant bastard’s car parked on the shared drive. It annoyed the hell out of him that he’d just wormed his way into Morgan’s life the way he had, and now it was gone eleven and he was still there. There were no lights on in Morgan’s apartment, and it irritated him way more than it should, considering he’d just been to see her neighbour for supper. A kiss and a cuddle were all he could commit to at the moment, and Emily seemed happ
y enough with this arrangement, which made him feel bad for her. He didn’t know if it was because he still felt like the worst husband in the world over Cindy, or whether it was because he was feeling so guilty about not finding Macy yet. As he walked to his car, he had the overwhelming urge to pick up one of the rockery stones and launch it through the back window of the Porsche. He didn’t, he wouldn’t, he was supposed to be on the right side of the law, which sometimes was tougher than he’d ever imagined. There had been a few times over the years he’d wanted to punch someone, though he never did, despite how wronged he’d been. Instead, he got in his car and reversed out. He was going home for a large glass of something strong to help him sleep. If he wasn’t thinking about Charlie or where the hell Macy was, he was thinking about Morgan and it was almost getting torturous – so many questions with very few, if any, answers and they were all circling inside his mind like a tornado picking up speed.

  When his alarm went off he groaned. Checking his phone, he had no missed calls, so they hadn’t located Macy whilst he’d been off duty. After tossing and turning most of the night, he had not long gone into a deep slumber but he forced himself to get up and shower. He arrived at work before anyone else and collected the assortment of discarded mugs from desks and took them to the small kitchen area, to wash them all before filling the kettle. He wanted solid production today, he wanted Macy located and returned to her mother, and he wanted to know that Morgan had decided that Fin wasn’t the right person for her, that he was a leech. Ben was pretty sure he was after something else, more than just her company. How many journalists drove cars like his? None that he knew of, even if they did come from London. He would have to be pretty amazing to afford that kind of motor. Taking the large mug of coffee he made himself, he went into the cramped office that was his and shut the door. He didn’t spend much time in here; he preferred being out in the main office unless Amy was on one and making fun of everyone, or Des was trying to convert them all to be vegans, which was never going to happen because they all ate far too much crap. He put it down to the stresses of their job, the long hours and the stuff they dealt with day in and day out. Rydal wasn’t a huge town, but it was big enough to have its fair share of problems. Granted the winter months were a lot quieter than the summer; winter was more domestics between the local residents. Summer was a barrage of lost property, shoplifting, sheep chasing and a lot of drunken antisocial behaviour around the pubs and one nightclub, which was sort of a slightly bigger pub that stayed open later than the rest. Logging on to his computer, he didn’t go straight onto the police intranet which he usually did; instead he opened Google and typed ‘Fin Palmer’ into the search bar. As the page loaded, there were links to Facebook, Instagram, something from YouTube. He clicked his way through them and didn’t see anything or anyone who remotely looked like Fin. Perturbed, he tried ‘Finlay’, ‘Finley’ and every other variation of his name but came up with nothing about a journalist from down south who was now working in Rydal Falls. He heard voices and looked up to see both Amy and Morgan filing through the door into the office and he quickly closed the page on his screen. He felt bad sneaking around, but surely someone like Fin had a social media presence? Where were his articles or links to them at least, if he was who he said he was?