She felt exposed. Vulnerable. Quickly she pulled the jacket tighter round herself.
‘Does Ronnie know too?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Was it his idea to kill him?’
Silence. Except for the hiss of the engine.
‘I’m not trying to trap you, Susie. I’m not judging you either. I just want to help.’
‘It was my idea. I would have done it even if I hadn’t met Ronnie. He was going to start on Jennifer, you see, and I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let her go through what I’d been through. I had to stop him and I didn’t know what else to do. I knew no one would believe me if I told them, and if I did try to tell he might have hurt my mother and I didn’t want her to know and …’
She couldn’t go on. A lump in her throat blocked the words that would have followed. He moved closer, putting his arm around her. ‘It’s all right,’ he said soothingly. ‘You’re safe.’
‘Not from Ronnie. When he told me what he’d done he thought I’d be pleased but I wasn’t. I was disgusted. And he hates me for that.’
‘What had he done?’
She told him about Waltringham and Ronnie’s father. About the body in the quarry and the pictures in the drawer.
‘How many pictures were there?’ he asked eventually.
‘I don’t know. Dozens at least.’
He whistled softly between his teeth. ‘Jesus Christ.’
‘I tried not to let him see how I really felt. But I couldn’t fool him. He’s too clever.’ She swallowed. ‘And anyway, who am I to judge him? I’ve killed too.’
‘You can’t compare yourself to him.’
‘Yes I can.’
‘No you can’t.’ Taking her chin in his hand, he stared into her eyes. ‘Susie, listen to me. You killed because you were frightened. You wanted to protect Jennifer and didn’t know how else to do it. Perhaps you were wrong. There are people who would say that you were wrong and that you did a bad thing. But that doesn’t make you a bad person and it certainly doesn’t make you like Ronnie. You are nothing like him. Nothing at all.’
‘I’m still a murderess.’
‘And Henry Norris was a murderer. But he was still a good man and one I was proud to call a friend.’
‘Henry Norris?’
He nodded. ‘Though we met as undergraduates he was a good dozen years older than me. He’d fought in the First World War in the trenches. He never liked to talk about it but one evening when we’d been drinking together he told me a story he’d never told anyone else. It was about a young private in his regiment called Collins. A decent enough man on the surface, so Henry said, but there was something missing in him. Some basic human empathy. The expression Henry used was ‘dead behind the eyes’.
‘One day a German regiment attacked them. They were repelled but one German became trapped in the trench. Henry said that he came across Collins torturing the German. Stabbing him again and again in the legs and arms with a bayonet. The German was little more than a boy. He was wounded and helpless and screaming for mercy but Collins just kept laughing, enjoying every second of it. Henry begged him to stop but he wouldn’t. Just kept on and on laughing. So Henry shot him. A single bullet in the heart. And when he told me the story he said that though he knew it was wrong he’s never regretted it.’
She leant against him, pulling the jacket ever tighter. Breathing in its musty scent of old tobacco and remembering how her father’s jackets had smelled the same way.
‘Do you think that about Ronnie?’ she asked. ‘That he’s dead behind the eyes?’
‘I think there’s something missing in him, yes. I sensed it as soon as I met him. That and the fact that he was hiding something. His mother senses it too. I think she always has. In fact, I think she knows about Waltringham. But she won’t acknowledge it because Ronnie’s been the whole joy of her life since she was just seventeen, and when you love someone like that you can’t allow yourself to accept anything that could take that joy away. Love makes you blind. Wilfully, perhaps, but blind none the less.’
‘My mother didn’t love my stepfather. She was just weak.’
‘But she loves you.’
‘I don’t love her, though. Not any more.’
‘Yes you do. You can’t just choose to stop loving someone. It doesn’t work like that.’
‘It does for Ronnie.’
His arm was still around her. She turned to stare into his damaged face and the eyes that were so like her father’s. She wanted her father. She wanted to be a little child again. To escape back to the time when she had never been afraid.
‘I think Ronnie’s going to try and hurt my mother. He as good as said so the last time I saw him, and we both know he’s capable of doing it. Waltringham is proof of that.’
‘But that was aimed at a father who was never more to him than a dream. A fantasy. It’s easy to hurt someone like that because it doesn’t seem real. It’s different with someone you truly love, and he still loves you, I’m sure of it. He can’t stop caring about you because he wants to, and if he still cares then there’s a chance he can be reasoned with.’
‘There’s something else I could do.’
‘What?’
‘Go to the police. Tell them what we did. They’d take me into custody but they’d take him in too, and that way he couldn’t hurt anyone else.’
‘But you can’t do that. They’d send you to prison. You’d be ruining your own life.’
‘I don’t care about my life. Not any more.’
‘But you care about Jennifer. You say you’re her big sister but you’re wrong. I’ve watched the two of you together and you’re the closest thing that little girl has ever had to a mother. She’s already lost her real one. Do you want to deprive her of another one too?’
She shook her head. ‘That’s not fair.’
‘But it’s true. Do you want to hurt her like that?’
‘Of course not! I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her ever. I love her more than anyone in the world and I’d rather …’
Then she stopped.
‘Susie?’
‘Oh my God.’
‘What?’
‘Jennifer. If Ronnie wants to hurt someone to get back at me, she’s the one he’ll pick.’
She saw him pale. Felt herself do the same.
‘Where is she now?’ he asked.
‘At home.’
‘Then she’ll be all right.’
‘Like the little boy in Waltringham was?’
He started his engine. ‘She’ll be all right. I’m sure of it.’
‘Just drive. Please!’
Five minutes later Susan climbed out of Charles’s car in front of Jennifer’s house.
The door opened. Uncle George appeared, waving to her, looking surprised but relaxed. ‘I was just coming to find you,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d be at home.’ Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he handed her a sealed envelope. ‘This is for you.’
‘What is it?’
He smiled. ‘The first clue.’
‘For what.’
‘The treasure hunt Ronnie’s organized. Jenjen’s very excited about it.’
Her heart began to pound. ‘Jenjen? Where is she?’
‘With Ronnie. He phoned yesterday evening to say that you were still feeling down so he’d thought up a treasure hunt to cheer you up and asked if Jenjen could help him plant the clues. He came for her first thing this morning but asked me to wait for an hour before telling you. Like I said, Jenjen’s very excited. She told me last week that Ronnie’s one of her favourite people.’
The door of the house was still open. From inside came the sound of the telephone. Uncle George looked at his watch and frowned. ‘I’d better take that. I’m expecting a call about work any minute.’ Then he walked back into the house.
She tore open the envelope to find a note inside.
Come to the hut in the wood. For her sake come alone. And tell no one.
For a
moment she thought she was going to scream. But she couldn’t do that. She had to be calm. She had to think.
Charles took the note and read it. ‘You can’t go,’ he told her.
‘I have to go. What else can I do?’
‘Call the police. I don’t think we have any choice now.’
‘He said tell no one.’
‘Half an hour ago you were all for telling them.’
‘Because I wanted to stop him doing something like this. But he has done it. He’s got her and that means he’s the one with the power. The note says for her sake come alone. If he sees the police, who knows what he might do.’
‘And if you go alone, what will he do then?’
‘At least she’ll still be alive when I get there.’
‘Then let me come with you. You can’t go alone.’
‘I’m not alone.’ She touched her stomach. ‘I’m pregnant, or at least I think I am. He doesn’t know that. Maybe it’ll make a difference if he does.’
‘And maybe it won’t.’ He seized her arm. ‘Susie …’
‘I can’t wait any longer!’
His hold remained firm. ‘One hour. I’m waiting one hour then I call the police.’
She pulled free. ‘Do what you want. I’m going now!’
Fifteen minutes later she ran through the woods. A cocktail of panic and adrenalin making her heart thump so hard that she feared it might explode.
She was deep in them now. The part where people rarely came and where fallen leaves lay in piles on the ground like unmarked graves. Once, centuries ago, a woman had searched these woods for a daughter she would never find. Or so the story went. Perhaps, in time, there would be another story told of a girl who had been lost for ever and of another who had searched in vain.
But the story was still being written. It could change. She had the power to change it. She just had to keep believing that she could.
She carried on running, on legs that felt as if they were made of lead, while the wind tugged at her hair like the spirit of a mischievous child.
Charles walked into his study and sat down at his desk.
His head was spinning. He didn’t know what to do. Every instinct screamed for him to call the police, but what if Susan was right? What if Ronnie felt provoked? Threatened? What might he do? Who might he hurt?
And if he did call, what would he tell them? Attempted abduction? What was his evidence? Jennifer liked and trusted Ronnie and had gone with him willingly. How could anyone think that she was in danger? To the outside world, Ronnie was the perfect son. The perfect gentleman. To shatter the façade he would have to tell them other things that Ronnie had done. And who he had done them with.
But there was the note. That was evidence of threat. It was, wasn’t it?
He drummed his fingers on the desk as the thoughts jostled in his brain.
And noticed something.
The bottom left-hand drawer of the desk wasn’t closed properly. The drawer where he kept college papers and, buried beneath them, an old handgun.
He had never told Ronnie about the gun. But he had told Anna, and she could have passed the information on. Innocently. In conversation. While Ronnie gave her one of his angelic smiles and stored the knowledge away for a rainy day.
Opening the drawer, he searched for the weapon. And found it gone.
That decided him. He went to the telephone in the hall, picked up the receiver and dialled. ‘Hello. Police. I need to report …’
‘No!’
Anna stood behind him on the stairs. ‘Don’t. Please.’
He put down the receiver. ‘I have to. He’s taken Jennifer.’
Her eyes widened. He saw her swallow.
‘You know what he’s capable of, Anna.’
‘He’s not capable of hurting her. Not a child.’
‘He’s taken my gun.’
Again he saw her swallow. ‘If he has, then it’s only for a game. That’s all.’
‘And what about Waltringham? Was that a game too?’
‘Nothing happened in Waltringham!’ Her voice was shrill. ‘Not that involved him. It was just coincidence, that’s all.’
‘Do you believe that, Anna? Do you really believe that?’
‘He knew what his father looked like. I’d given him a picture. He must have seen his father in the paper and decided to keep it.’
‘And what about the drawings?’
‘They’re just drawings. They don’t mean he’s guilty. He wouldn’t hurt a child. He’s not capable of it.’
‘He told Susan that he did. And he was proud of it. He wanted her to be proud too.’
‘She’s lying! You know what she is. She’s a …’
‘Murderess? Is that what you’re going to say? Because that’s right. She is. And so is he, because they killed her stepfather together.’
She sank to her knees. ‘She made him do it. She used him.’
‘Nobody makes Ronnie do anything, Anna. He’s not a puppet. He does what he wants to do, as he did in Waltringham.’
‘He is not a monster!’ It came out as a wail. ‘He’s not! He’s just a baby. He’s my baby and he’s not capable of hurting anyone. He’s good. He’s perfect. I know he is. I know him better than anyone!’
She buried her head in her hands and began to howl, just as she must have done on the day when she was thirteen and returned home to find her house destroyed and her family lost for ever. The sight cut through him like a blade. He hated himself for what he was doing. He didn’t want to hurt her. All he had ever wanted was to protect her from pain.
But he couldn’t protect her from the truth.
And there were others who needed protection too.
He crouched down beside her, pulling her to him, stroking her hair while she buried her head in his chest. ‘I don’t want to do this,’ he said softly. ‘But I have to.
For Jennifer’s sake. She really is only a baby. You see that, don’t you?’
Silence. Her sobs were easing though her body continued to tremble.
‘Don’t you?’
Still no answer.
‘Don’t you?’
He heard her sigh. Then a faint whisper. ‘Yes. Do it. Don’t let him hurt Jennifer.’
He went to the phone. She came too, wrapping herself around him as he made the call, like a vine that could not stand without support.
Susan reached the hut.
She stopped just outside it, desperate to enter yet terrified of what she might find. Her lungs felt raw. She bent over, gasping, trying to slow her breathing.
And heard Jennifer laugh.
Straightening up, preparing herself to do whatever it took, she knocked on the door. ‘It’s me. Susie.’
More laughter. Jennifer’s once again. She turned the handle and walked in.
They were sitting together on the floor in the far corner of the hut. An old box stood between them, covered with playing cards. A perfectly innocent scene, or so it would have been if it hadn’t been for the gun that Ronnie was cradling in his lap.
Jennifer beamed at her. She smiled back, trying to act as normally as possible. Not wanting to frighten Jennifer. Remaining by the door. Not making any sudden moves that could provoke Ronnie, who watched her with eyes that seemed empty. Blank. Dead behind the eyes. Like the soldier in the trench who had tortured his prisoner. Was he going to torture Jennifer? Was he going to torture her?
‘What are you two doing?’ she asked. Struggling to keep her voice calm.
‘Ronnie’s showing me card tricks. I can do a new one.’ Jennifer fanned the cards then held them out. ‘You have to pick one.’
She hesitated. Not sure what to do. Through the window she could see the wind shuffling the leaves that covered the ground.
‘Pick a card!’ Jennifer insisted.
She took a step forward. Ronnie pointed the gun at her. ‘Freeze!’
She did. As rigid as a statue. Once again Jennifer laughed. ‘We’re cowboys and you’re an Indian,’ she to
ld Susan.
‘That’s right.’ Ronnie stroked Jennifer’s hair. ‘She’s a wicked squaw who wants to scalp you with a tomahawk. But she’s not going to because I’m going to shoot her. Do you think I should shoot her, Jenjen?’
‘Yes!’
The gun remained aimed at her. She stared down its barrel, wondering whether this was the moment when she was going to die. Not that she was afraid. If her life could save Jennifer’s then she would give it gladly.
But she was afraid of Jennifer seeing it. Of what the sight might do to her. The effect it could have on the rest of her life.
However long that might be.
She took a deep breath, steadying herself. Determined to stay calm. The air in the hut was stale and rank. ‘If you’re going to shoot me then you need a sheriff present. One of you must ride back to town to fetch one. The other can stay and guard me.’
Jennifer frowned. ‘Do we need a sheriff?’ she asked Ronnie.
He shook his head.
‘Yes you do. A real cowboy wouldn’t shoot a squaw. Not without a sheriff present.’
Ronnie continued to stroke Jennifer’s hair. ‘A bad cowboy would.’
‘I’m not a bad cowboy,’ Jennifer told him.
‘But I am,’ he replied. ‘There always has to be one bad cowboy in a film. The sort of cowboy who drinks too much and gets into fights and shoots people he thinks are cheating at cards. Have you been cheating, Jenjen?’
Susan felt herself grow cold all over. Once again Jennifer laughed. ‘No!’
‘I think you have.’
‘No she hasn’t.’ She fought to keep her voice from growing shrill. ‘She’s too young to cheat or to do anything bad. Not like me. I’ve done a lot of bad things. I deserve to be shot, even without a sheriff. But she doesn’t. Not even the baddest cowboy in the world could shoot her.’
‘Couldn’t he?’ Ronnie turned to Jennifer. ‘You’ve been cheating, partner. You have to pay the price.’
Then he aimed the gun at her face. She sat there, still laughing, still thinking it was a game.
Apple of My Eye Page 36
