by Amy Cross
Heading back out into the bedroom, she wandered over to the crib and looked down at Rachel again.
“Mummy will be right here,” she said with a proud smile. “Daddy's sleeping in the spare room again, but Mummy's not going anywhere. Just rest, my little princess, and everything will be alright. Mummy loves you more than anyone has ever loved anyone in the whole world, and I will always, always keep you safe.”
Chapter Eleven
Today
“My head is pounding,” Diana muttered under her breath as she made her way along the dark landing, heading toward the top of the stairs. As was becoming her habit lately, she needed a late night glass of water. “Why did I drink all that white wine? Why -”
Stopping suddenly, she saw that the door to Rachel's old nursery had been left slightly ajar. She knew the door should be kept shut, that it was always kept shut, so she wandered over and stopped to listen for a moment, before pushing the door open all the way and seeing nothing but the dark room and – at the farthest side – the faint outline of the bay window.
“Hello?” she said cautiously.
Silence.
She was about to pull the door shut and continue her journey downstairs, to find some water and a couple of aspirin, but at the very last moment she began to wonder whether somebody might be lurking in the room. She hesitated for a moment longer, before reaching inside and hitting the switch on the wall. The light flickered to life and she stepped through the doorway, and she immediately saw that the room had been left completely undisturbed. Ever since Rachel's disappearance, nobody had gone into the nursery, and the girl still hadn't been shown around properly following her return.
Every toy was in its original place.
Every item of clothing.
She turned to leave, but then she noticed one thing that was slightly out of place. The rocking horse in the corner was moving slightly, as if it had been used just a minute or two ago. Even as she stared at the horse, however, Diana began to wonder whether her eyes had been playing tricks on her. She made her way over and saw that the horse was now completely still, but she was sure that it had been moving. Reaching down, she placed a hand on its head, just to make absolutely sure that it was still, and then she paused for a few seconds, trying to work out whether -
“I know what you did.”
Feeling a hand suddenly touch her shoulder from behind, she gasped and turned around, but there was no sign of anyone. She backed against the wall, bumping the rocking horse in the process and cause it to rock violently back and forth, but there was nobody else in the room. She knew she'd heard the voice, however, and she was certain Rachel had been right behind her. Still, she also knew that there was no way anybody could have hurried away so quickly, so she tried to tell herself that the whole thing had been conjured up by her addled, half-drunk and half-hungover mind.
“Rachel?” she stammered. “What do you know? How do you know?”
Silence.
“You're not here, are you?” she continued. “Not now, not here. I imagined you, didn't I?”
She waited a moment longer, just in case the voice returned, and then she spotted the dark gap under the bed. For a moment, she felt certain that somebody was under there, that somebody was watching her, but she didn't dare go and take a look. Instead, she turned and hurried out of the room, and she took care to shut the door once she was on the landing.
When she finally got downstairs and reached the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of water and then she downed two aspirin. Her hands were trembling slightly and she could feel a desperate, tightening sense of panic in her chest. She glanced over her shoulder a couple of times, just to make sure that she was absolutely alone, and she half-expected to see Rachel's silhouette standing in a doorway, watching her. The girl had said very little since her return, but she'd taken to lurking in the most unexpected places and Diana was starting to fear that Rachel might pop out from anywhere at any moment. Even now, all alone in the kitchen, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.
“Pull yourself together,” she whispered. “You're not some kind of stupid fragile bitch. You're a strong, independent woman. You should have looked under that bed, just to prove to yourself that -”
Suddenly she gasped and turned as she heard a bump nearby. Looking across the brightly-lit kitchen, she saw no sign of anyone in the doorway, but she was certain this time that something had been in the room with her just a moment earlier.
“Is that you?” she stammered. “Rachel? Do you want something?”
She waited, but all she heard was silence.
“You don't have to creep about, you know,” she continued, convinced that the girl was lurking somewhere. Watching. Listening. “This is your home. It's always been your home, even when you were away for so long. So instead of sneaking about like this, why don't you...”
Her voice trailed off as her throat dried.
She knew what she should say, even if the thought was horrifying.
“Why don't you come and talk to me,” she managed to add finally, although a shudder passed through her chest. “I'm your...” She paused. Her throat felt impossibly dry and her heart was pounding. “I'm your mother, remember? If you want to talk to me, let's do that. Right now. We can sit at the kitchen table and talk. Would you like that?”
She waited.
As the empty, silent seconds ticked past, she began to feel a rising tide of relief. Perhaps she'd been wrong. Perhaps the second bump, like the first, had been all in her head. Perhaps the girl was fast asleep upstairs in her room, or reading, or just doing something that meant she was out of the way.
That was all Diana wanted, really.
To be left alone.
After a couple of minutes had passed, she finally forced herself to accept that there was nobody else downstairs. Her heart was still pounding, but she poured another glass of water and took a swig before heading back across the kitchen and switching off the light.
And then she heard the unmistakable sound of the patio doors bumping shut in the next room.
She instinctively pulled back into the shadows, and now she could hear faint footsteps padding closer. A moment later she saw the familiar silhouette of Rachel – or the girl who claimed to be Rachel, at least – emerging from the study and heading straight to the stairs. The girl made her way up, although she stopped halfway and suddenly turned to look over her shoulder.
Diana pulled back, retreating even further into the shadows of the kitchen, and she held her breath until finally she heard Rachel continuing her way upstairs.
Slowly, once the house was silent again, Diana peered back out into the hallway and saw that the girl was gone. She had no idea why Rachel might have been outside in the middle of the night, but she supposed that perhaps she'd just been unable to sleep. She hadn't really spoken to Rachel very much since her return, and she'd come to the conclusion that the girl was a little unusual, and a little solitary. Still, she figured things would shake out eventually, so she went through to the study and checked that the patio doors were locked, and then she hurried upstairs.
As she passed the door to Rachel's room, she slowed and wondered whether she should knock and say goodnight. That was what a caring, loving mother would do, she realized. Still, she couldn't quite bring herself to tap on the door, so instead she went straight back to bed, even though she knew she'd never be able to sleep.
***
Several miles away, in a clearing at the edge of Rafter's Wood, the remains of a small campfire flickered in the night air.
Chapter Twelve
15 years ago
“Are you gonna be wanting another one for the road there, Mac?”
It took Mac Trelawney a moment to realize that the barman had said his name. Looking up from his empty whiskey glass, he saw that not only was the barman watching him with an amused smile, but several of the other locals seemed to have noticed him too.
“Now there's a man with a load on his mind,�
� the barman continued, turning to one of the others. “I never thought I'd live to see the day that Mac Trelawney was sitting in my pub, lost in thought. I hope he doesn't think too hard. He might sprain something.”
“What's up, Mac?” Old Tom asked. “Wife giving you a hard time back at home?”
“How's Maureen taking the move, anyway?” another man added. “When you and her moved off to Liverpool, the rest of us thought we'd actually be rid of you for a while. What's up? Can't get enough of us here in Landsley?”
“I came back to deal with some business,” Mac replied, hoping to stop them asking any more questions. “Maureen's fine.”
“Got a little homesick, did you?” the barman continued. “It's alright, Mac. You're welcome here for as long as you want.”
“I'm headed back to Liverpool tomorrow.”
“And if -”
“I said I'm headed back to Liverpool!” Mac snapped, getting to his feet. “I didn't think me being here for a few nights was gonna get everyone talking!”
“What kind of business brought you back, anyway?” Old Tom asked. “You doing a spot of work for someone, are you?”
“Who'd pay Mac Trelawney to do anything?” another man muttered under his breath.
“I knew I shouldn't have come down here tonight,” Mac said as he stumbled toward the door. “You tossers just spend your lives on these stools, gossiping about other people and going on like old women. What's the bloody point of any of you?”
“Give our regards to Maureen,” Old Tom replied as Mac opened the door. “Tell her she can do better, anyway. Maybe she should find a man who can actually give her what she really wants. And we all know what that is.”
Stopping for a moment, Mac considered going back over to the bar and knocking Tom clean out. He could do it, too; he'd never been a particularly smart man, he knew that, but he was good with his fists and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he could lay Tom out on the floor with one punch. He even began to curl his right hand to form a fist, before realizing that there was no point. Besides, he didn't want to attract too much attention.
“Did you hear about Bob in the off-license?” the landlord asked suddenly.
Mac glanced back at them and saw that they were already talking about something else. They'd already forgotten him. Stepping outside, he took a moment to fasten his coat against the cool night air, and then he took a deep breath as he tried to sober himself up just a little. Ahead, past the stone cottages, he could see the dark countryside, and he knew the Stone mansion was out there somewhere, and that one of the doors would have been left unlocked for him.
The time had come, and he knew exactly what he had to do next. Finally, with a heavy heart, he began to shuffle his way along the street. Best to just get it over with, he told himself. Best to not ask too many questions, pocket the money, and then get out of Landsley forever.
Chapter Thirteen
Today
Clicking through to yet another page on the website, Jo scrolled down and saw more faces of girls who'd gone missing over the years. She was hoping to spot one that might match the image from Margaret Stone's phone, but so far she'd drawn a blank. As far as she could tell so far, Rachel Stone – or the girl who was pretending to be Rachel Stone – had simply appeared out of nowhere.
Suddenly sensing someone over her shoulder, she turned and found that Nick Cotterall was leaning down and watching the screen.
“Don't mind me,” he said with a smile. “Keep going.”
Sighing, she closed the lid of her laptop and watched as Nick took a seat on the other side of the booth. The pub was quiet at lunchtime, and she'd been hoping to get some work done. She'd tried sitting in her room, but the wi-fi was patchy up there and finally she'd decided to get something to eat while she went through a few sources. She also needed to find her phone, which had somehow gone missing during the previous evening. Just as she was about to tell Nick that she'd rather be alone, however, she saw that his left hand was now sporting a large white bandage.
“What happened?”
“Oh, this?” He shrugged. “Sod's law. I lost my wallet somewhere this morning. One minute it was in my coat, the next it was gone. Unfortunately my phone was in my car at the time, so I had to borrow a chisel from a guy and get the door open. Or that's what I tried to do, anyway.” He held his bandaged hand up for her to get a closer look. “After I'd split my thumb open, I realized I needed to get a guy from the garage to take a look. Speaking of which, could you spot me some lunch? I'm a bit low on cash until I can get new cards.”
“You lost your phone too?” she asked. “I lost mine.”
“That's a hell of a coincidence,” he muttered.
“Almost too much of one.” She paused for a moment. “I'll buy you lunch if you tell me everything you've discovered so far this morning.”
“And who says I've discovered anything?”
“You've been busy and you're not an idiot. You must have come up with something.”
“I'll take that as a compliment,” he replied as he grabbed a menu and took a look. “I'll tell you one thing I learned, not that it's got much relevance to the case. There are some thieving bastards in this town.”
“Other people have had their wallets stolen?”
“That, and the bastards at the garage. Do you know how much they wanna charge me just to get the car door open and give me a new set of keys? It's daylight bloody robbery!”
“Have you found out anything about Rachel?”
“Keep your voice down,” he replied, checking over his shoulder to make sure no-one was close enough to overhear them. Once he was confident, he turned back to her. “Margaret Stone was in town earlier. I don't know what she wanted, but she gave me the slip.”
“I spoke to her.”
“Did you learn anything?”
She opened her mouth to mention the phone photo, before realizing that there was no way she could let Nick get so much as a sniff. The photo would be enough to let him run his story, and then the whole town would most likely be swamped by reporters.
“Nothing too useful,” she said finally. “To be honest, I feel like I'm banging my head against a stone wall.”
“A literal wall?”
“The wall around that house.” She hesitated, as she began to realize that although she'd said those words in an attempt to distract Nick from her real work, they actually contained a hint of truth. “I can't investigate this case if I can't get through that gate and meet the girl face to face,” she continued finally. “Everything I've been doing so far has been useful to some degree, but I feel like I'm in a kind of holding pattern. The family has Rachel locked away, and I'm starting to think that Herbert and Diana Stone don't want to know the truth. From what I've been told, they seem happy to hope for the best. Maybe...”
She hesitated again, and for a few seconds she began to think that she should withdraw from the case. She'd always had a personal rule that she wouldn't take a client's money if she felt she couldn't do the job properly. This concern quickly passed, however, and was replaced by a sense of stony determination.
“On a scale of one to ten,” Nick said after a moment, “how strictly do you adhere to the rule of law?”
She turned to him. “What do you mean?”
“At journalism school, we had these classes on media ethics,” he continued, “and we were told over and over again that we should never, ever break the law in pursuit of a story.” He paused for a moment, as a very faint smile began to cross his lips. “However, we also learned that the law is extremely bendy, especially when it comes to privacy issues. And I've got an idea that could help us both out, if you're interested. The best part is, it's not even illegal. It's more...”
“Bendy?” Jo suggested.
Finally his smile became a grin. “Exactly.”
***
“And you're sure this is the right spot?” Jo asked, as she continued to hold the ladder that Nick was using to climb the wall. “I don't
see a river.”
“The river dried up years ago,” he replied, “but don't worry, this is definitely the right place. Herbert Stone's grandfather built the wall straight across a public footpath. Technically he wasn't allowed to do that, but he threw money at his lawyers and eventually the local protesters went away. But the footpath still exists, so legally speaking members of the public are perfectly entitled to walk across the southern end of the lawn, even if...”
He paused as he reached the top and examined the pieces of glass that had been embedded long ago. Several sharp edges glinted in the moonlight.
“Even if the Stone family erected a bloody great big wall to block the way.”
“How close to the house can we get on this public footpath?” she asked.
“According to the map, about two hundred meters from the windows on the south side. It's not perfect, but at least it gets us into the zone where we don't need a telephoto lens. You never know, this Rachel Stone girl might wander past a window, and then we're sorted.” He adjusted himself at the top of the wall for a moment, and then suddenly he disappeared from view.
A moment later Jo heard a heavy thud from the other side, followed by a gasp and then another thud.
“Did you land safely?” she asked.
“I'm okay!” he groaned. “Come on, get over here. There are no cameras in this part of the garden, but I'm worried they might have some other kind of detection system. What we're doing might be legal, but I don't fancy getting challenged by some bozo in a security guard's uniform.”
Sighing, and realizing that she'd come too far to back down now, Jo double-checked that the ladder was sturdy before finally starting to climb. When she reached the top, she carefully maneuvered herself over the pieces of broken glass and then took care to drop down onto the other side. She slipped slightly, landing hard, but she was quickly up again. Although the garden was pitch-black, she could just about make out Nick's silhouette just a few feet away, as he stopped next to a tree and looked toward the distant, well-lit house.
