by Anna Willett
COLD VALLEY
NIGHTMARE
A kidnapping, a murder, and a woman who won’t give in.
Anna Willett
Published by
THE BOOK FOLKS
London, 2019
© Anna Willett
Anna Willett is the author of several thrillers published by THE BOOK FOLKS.
The full list, in order of publication, is as follows:
BACKWOODS RIPPER
RETRIBUTION RIDGE
UNWELCOME GUESTS
FORGOTTEN CRIMES
CRUELTY’S DAUGHTER
SMALL TOWN NIGHTMARE
VENGEANCE BLIND
Further details about some of these books can be found in this one.
Another gripping thriller by Anna Willett
Cold Valley Nightmare can be enjoyed entirely as a standalone. It does, however, contain the same lead characters that appear for the first time in Small Town Nightmare:
Lucy’s brother is the only close family she has. When he goes missing, she heads out to a rural backwater, Night Town, his last known location. The locals don’t respond kindly. What lengths will they go to protect their secrets? And how far will she go to protect her kin?
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Other titles by Anna Willett
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Chapter One
Clem walked on the tips of his toes so his dad couldn’t hear him cross the creaky floor and scamper into the kitchen. The study door was open, not all the way and only enough for the sound of his father’s voice to float down the hallway. He sounded angry; the same way he did the time Clem had spilled cola in the car. Clem’s eyelids fluttered as each of the words seemed to fill the house. He was supposed to play in his room. If he got caught … He didn’t want to think about getting in trouble or the way his daddy’s face would scrunch up like an angry cartoon wasp.
With his small shoulders hunched, he pulled the pantry door open and flopped onto the floor. His mum kept empty peanut butter jars and squashed takeaway tubs in a crate underneath the bottom shelf. He wasn’t sure what she was saving them for. To him, it all looked like junk. ‘Junk’ was his daddy’s favourite word. Clem frowned, his pale brows drawing together like golden wings. His dad had a lot of favourite words. ‘Loser,’ ‘pig wagon,’ and ‘entitlement’ were some of his other chosen favourites. Clem wasn’t sure what pig wagon meant, but he liked the sound of it, sort of funny even though his dad mostly used the word while wearing a serious expression. Entitlement, his mum had said, meant thinking you could have whatever you wanted.
Clem pulled the blue crate out from under the shelf. Maybe he was an entitlement because he wanted an empty jar and planned to take it without asking. Instinctively, he glanced over his shoulder, but the hallway was empty and he could still hear his dad on the phone.
“I don’t give a shit what the vendor says, you make it happen.”
Grateful he wasn’t the one getting yelled at this time, Clem turned back to the crate.
He picked out a plastic jar with a blue lid and pushed the crate back into the pantry. There were no holes in the lid, so he decided he’d just have to open the jar and balance the lid on top. Holding the jar to his chest, he used his butt to push the pantry door closed. Before slipping out the back door, he opened the fridge and grabbed a fist full of lettuce from the crisper and wedged it in the jar.
Still holding the door, he noticed a packet of ham and his tummy gurgled. His daddy was supposed to give him lunch, but when he talked on the phone sometimes he forgot. Sometimes he forgot to fix them something to eat until it was nearly time for mummy to come home. Still holding the fridge door open, Clem set the jar down between his feet and pulled out the package of ham.
“Are you fucking kidding?” His dad’s voice, almost a scream now, made Clem fumble and drop the ham.
The meat hit the floor with a greasy plop. Not daring to call for help or risk being caught making a mess, Clem scooped up the ham, shoving two slices into his mouth and folding the remaining pieces back into the clear packet. The ham was crunchy like it was covered in bits of dirt, but it still tasted good. Not as good as sausages, but yummy just the same. He thought about taking another slice but decided to wait until he caught a couple of grasshoppers, then he could eat ham while his new pets munched on lettuce.
As soon as his feet touched the grass, he remembered he should have shoes on. Walking on the ground in bare feet was how you got ticks, at least that’s what his mummy said. But the cool grass felt nice between his toes and going back inside might mean getting caught out of his room. Besides, he was almost five and wearing his Superman cape. He could look after himself in the front yard. He shoved the lid on the jar and used his free hand to hold the cape out like he was flying. Skipping, Clem headed for the side gate, only letting go of the cape long enough to flip the latch up and let himself out.
A patch of long grass dotted with daisies and a scattering of dandelions shifted in the afternoon sunlight, turning the sad patch of forgotten ground into a shimmering trail leading down to the road. The red cape fluttered upwards around Clem’s small neck as he half-ran, half-tumbled towards the clump of weeds he’d spotted from his bedroom window.
Almost tripping into the long grass, he planted his feet and came to a stop. Clem knew from previous attempts that grasshoppers jumped like rockets if you stomped on the grass, so he set the jar down and flopped onto his tummy. Examining the blades close up made his eyes cross until he could see the tip of his nose. As much as he wanted to be quiet, he couldn’t help giggling at the way the world blurred in and out.
Barely aware of his movements, Clem rolled to the side and scratched his tummy. It was then that he spotted a big one, a grasshopper unlike any he’d seen before. A puff of ham scented breath blew past his lips and his blue eyes grew wide. The insect, almost the size of a pop-stick, balanced on a withered dandelion stem. Its legs were orange, its body ringed black and yellow like a bee. And, as if sensing Clem’s presence, its wings twitched, exposing flecks of deep red.
“Oh, wow.” To Clem, the grasshopper looked more like a dinosaur than an insect. A rare creature that when viewed up close seemed to have every colour in the rainbow hidden in its wings. “Grasshoppers have ears on their bellies,” he whispered to himself.
The insect titled its blunt head in Clem’s direction, black eyes regarding him as though consider
ing his comment. Clem reached for the jar intending to catch the bug between the lid and the plastic rim. But once his fingers closed around the container, he hesitated.
The grasshopper was so pretty, Clem wasn’t sure if he really wanted to put the creature in a jar. When he’d caught slaters they always died after a few days and the thought of finding the colourful insect dried up and dead at the bottom of an old peanut butter jar made him want to cry.
Instead, he pulled a chunk of lettuce out of the container and laid it on the grass. “I won’t catch you, but you can still be my pet and I’ll bring you lunch every day.”
“What are you doing?” The voice spooked him and, without meaning to, he rolled sideways and his fist smacked the ground. The startled grasshopper catapulted into the air and disappeared into the bushes.
As a shadow fell over Clem, he became frightened at first and then his eyes widened with recognition.
Chapter Two
Lucy used her hip to prop the back door open, but rather than call out to Damon, she watched him drag the spare tyre out of the back of his Jeep and let it bounce on the patch of dusty ground. For a second, he balanced the spare against his knees, then crouched and began examining the tread. This was his routine – most likely left over from his military days – checking his vehicle after returning from a long trip. Rather than annoy her, his attention to detail made her smile.
As if sensing her presence, he looked up. “You look pleased.”
They’d been together for almost fourteen months, but watching him go about his routine in her backyard made their relationship seem real, comforting. Realising she’d been grinning at him like a schoolgirl, she shrugged and held up the phone.
“Larson for you.” She pointed the mobile at him, noticing how his smile faltered at the mention of his employer’s name.
Damon had only been home for twenty-four hours and a call from Larson could mean only one thing: another job. Working for a security and investigation company wasn’t like a regular nine to five job. They both knew Damon’s work would take him away from home, sometimes for weeks, but there were usually seven or eight days between calls. Days when they did nothing special, but the time seemed precious just the same.
Lucy handed him the phone. “Looks like you might be packing up the Jeep again.” She tried to make the comment sound light-hearted, but when Damon took the phone, she could see disappointment etch into his usually open features.
Leaving him to talk to his boss, she headed back inside and busied herself in the study. She had an article to finish and also planned on working on her novel during the afternoon. But after a few minutes of staring out of the window watching the spring skies, she gave up on the idea of accomplishing anything useful.
She considered a glass of iced tea, but disregarded the idea in favour of coffee. As she sat the coffee press on the table, the backdoor opened.
“That smells good.” Damon nodded at the freshly made coffee and tossed his phone on the table.
Lucy poured two cups, doing her best to be patient and wait for the inevitable news that Damon was going away. It was strange. After spending much of her adult life alone, she had become resigned to loneliness, not happily alone, but as used to it as a woman could be. But now, finding someone she could love, loneliness seemed cold and jarring.
“Larson’s in Mandurah on business.” Damon sat opposite her at the table, absentmindedly running his hand over Lucy’s forearm. “He wants to drop by and talk to me about something, so I sort of invited him to dinner.” He let go of her arm and picked up his cup. “But I wanted to check with you first.”
“You don’t have to check with me.” She was about to remind him it was his home too, but something in his face made her nervous, so she tried for humour. “But you’d better crank up the barbeque because you’re cooking tonight.”
Damon managed a smile, but it looked tight, almost forced. “It’s just the case he wants to talk to me about…” He rubbed his hand over his chin before continuing. “It’s a missing person… well, it’s linked to a missing person.”
One of the things she loved about Damon was his frankness. It wasn’t like him to procrastinate, especially not with her. If he was worried about a new case, she was sure he had a good reason, so she waited for him to finish.
Her arm was still resting on the table. Damon took her hand and turned it over, studying her palm before speaking. “It’s the little boy that went missing in Cold Valley.”
The temperature in the kitchen seemed to dip and suddenly the sun shining through the window lost its warmth. “Oh.” The word slipped past her lips, sounding small and startled at the same time.
She wasn’t surprised Larson had offered Damon another missing person’s case; Damon had worked on numerous similar assignments since they’d been together. Mostly runaways, some cheating husbands, and in one instance an elderly man suffering from Alzheimer’s who had wandered away from an aged care facility only to be found close to death in bushland twelve kilometres from home. Finding people was something Damon was good at. It was how they first met; he’d been looking for someone who had gone missing then as well, but that case had been much more sinister than a wayward husband or a disgruntled teen. Damon was searching for Aidan, a young man he’d known during his military service while Lucy was desperately trying to find her missing brother Tim.
Lucy closed her eyes not wanting to visualise the night they’d found her brother or the grisly details that led her into the midst of the most terrifying chapter of her life. The little boy that had gone missing in Cold Valley had garnered enough attention to be mentioned on the news. He was only four years old, little more than a baby and poles apart from her brother’s age when he’d gone missing, but somehow his disappearance dragged up all of her darkest memories from the past.
“Lucy?” Damon was speaking, but Lucy was having trouble concentrating on his voice. For a second, all she could hear was the sound of a knife slicing through the air and striking flesh. “I told Larson I’d talk it over with you first.” His tone was gentle, the concern unmistakable. “If it’s too much, I’ll tell him no.”
“Don’t do that.” It came out harsher than she intended. Damon’s whiskey-coloured eyes remained calm as he waited for her to continue. “I mean, don’t turn down the case, not for me.” She pulled her arms off the table and wedged her hands between her knees, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tremor that ran through her limbs. “I won’t lie and say the thought of it doesn’t dredge up memories, but we found Tim. He’s alive because we didn’t give up on him. That little boy…” She swallowed making sure her voice was steady before she continued. “If you can help him and bring him home to his parents, I want you to do it.”
There was relief on Damon’s face and maybe a trace of sadness. It occurred to her that investigating the child’s disappearance was tough on him too. After all, the young man he’d been searching for when they met wasn’t as fortunate as her brother, and Damon was the one who had to break the news to Aidan’s mother that she would never see her son again.
Feeling steadier now, she placed her hand on his. “Damon...” She leaned across the table and held his gaze. “I meant what I said about you cooking.”
This time, there was nothing forced about the look on his face as his surprise morphed into a crooked smile.
* * *
Larson arrived at 6:55 p.m. and, as promised, Damon was in the backyard working the barbeque. With the aroma of steak and onions filling the kitchen, Lucy led their guest through the house.
“You’ve got a nice setup here, Lucy.” Larson paused at the kitchen table. “How’s it working out for your brother?”
Lucy wasn’t surprised Larson knew about her reasons for buying the semi-rural property. He’d been involved in the case fourteen months ago when she and Damon were looking for Tim. And Damon had known Larson for years, so it was only natural he would share some things with him. Still, Lucy felt a familiar pull of protectiveness towards her
younger brother and had to remind herself that Larson was a friend.
“It’s working well, thanks.” She hesitated with her hand on the knob of the back door, torn between dismissing his enquiry and opening up to him. In the end, it was the look on Larson’s usually unreadable face. The look of genuine concern decided it for her. “He spends a few days a week here, but still likes to be out under the stars the rest of the time.” She shrugged. “He doesn’t go far. I hear his dog barking in the distance sometimes.”
He tilted his head to the side, his whitish-blonde hair glinting under the kitchen light. “Sounds like this place is just what he needs.”
Once the steaks were ready, Lucy, Damon and Larson seated themselves on the veranda. The sinking sun turned the cloudless sky into a purple vista shot through with vermillion sparks. The effect still took Lucy’s breath away. She couldn’t imagine a day when she’d take this sort of natural beauty for granted. But then she had the luxury of having everything she needed safely under the setting sun.
“I never get tired of this place,” Damon said, looking towards the treetops.
Larson nodded in agreement. “I feel the same way about steak.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “But I’ll tell my wife we had fish, otherwise I won’t see another piece of red meat for ten days.”
“That’s risky.” Lucy raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. “Almost like cheating with beef.”
The surprised look on Larson’s face made Damon laugh. “That’s right, mate. If she smells tomato sauce on your breath, you’ll be on short rations.”
Laughing now, Larson put down his cutlery and held up his hands. “Don’t get me wrong. Charlotte is the love of my life, but my ancestors were Vikings. I can’t live on couscous and kale.”
The look of desperation on the man’s face mixed with the image of Larson in a Viking helmet was more than Lucy could take. Before she could stop herself, beer spurted out of her mouth.
