Cold Valley Nightmare

by Anna Willett

Janice shook her head. “Sorry, I’m not making much sense.” She flipped open the yearbook to a page held in place by a brightly coloured postcard. “I showed her this photo.” She laid a finger under a young girl’s image. “It’s Mimi Shaw. It took me awhile to remember, but it came back to me in the end. She was a foster child in Marina Plick’s care. You see, she’s the one in the footage from the fête.”

  Damon took in the image. Even at a glance, he could see the resemblance to the woman Lucy had shown him on the footage. He was starting to get a sinking feeling, like the world was dropping out from under him.

  “You gave Lucy an address?” His mouth was dry.

  “Yes. Yes, I did.”

  Janice nodded and moved over to the kitchen bench where an array of onions, tomatoes and herbs cluttered the chopping board.

  “I’ve jotted it down for you.” She tore a sheet off a notepad and handed it to him. “Mimi’s aunt. Her name’s Elaine Shaw. She lives in Narrogin – number two Bird Street. Do you think Lucy went straight there?”

  “You said you remembered Mimi Shaw from when she was in high school,” Brock said. Both Damon and Janice turned to where he stood staring at the photo in the yearbook. “Do you remember Tyson Plick?”

  Janice tilted her head to the side and pressed a finger to her lips. “Tyson Plick.” She drew the name out. “He was Marina’s son… I’m not sure if he was younger or older than Mimi.”

  Both men waited, and after a moment Janice’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes, Tyson Plick. He was a few years older.” She moved over to where Brock was standing and began flicking through the yearbook. “He was such a nice boy. So good looking, but quiet. Didn’t have tickets on himself like some of them do.” She squinted at something in the book then tapped the page. “Here he is. Boys that age can be quite difficult to deal with, but not Tyson. He was good natured even about everyone calling him Smiley. Not a kind nickname under the circumstances.”

  Janice stepped aside and let Damon and Brock get a look at the yearbook. The photo showed a sombre teenage boy with blonde hair, clear skin, and a strong jaw line.

  Damon wasn’t sure how it would help them find Lucy, but it might be worth tracking Tyson down after they visited Mimi’s aunt. “Does he still live in Cold Valley?”

  Janice shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I’m not even sure if he’s out of prison.”

  Damon’s head snapped up. “Prison?”

  As they spoke, a large ginger cat stalked through the kitchen and sat at Janice’s feet.

  “Mhm. Very sad. There was an incident with Marina’s boyfriend.” She bent and stroked the cat’s head. “A fight or something.” When she straightened, she let out a long breath. “Tyson killed the man and ended up in prison.”

  “You said everyone called him Smiley, why was that?” Damon caught Brock’s eye. While his partner’s expression was neutral, Damon knew him well enough to know the wheels were turning.

  Janice’s brow furrowed. “Not everyone. I didn’t. The teachers didn’t. It was a cruel thing really. Such a good looking boy, but a creepy smile.” She shrugged. “He couldn’t help it, but the nickname stuck.”

  Damon picked up the book. “Can we take this?”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Not thinking it would be unlocked, Lucy tried the front door. To her surprise it opened. Before entering, she glanced over her shoulder at the road. The Commodore was the only car she’d seen since pulling onto Bird Street, so the chances of being spotted were slim.

  She slipped through the door and closed it behind her, the click of the latch lost to the sound of the TV. The front door opened directly into the sitting room and, just like she’d seen through the window, the area sat unoccupied. Without moving, she surveyed the dark couch and side tables. A plate of crackers sat on the arm of the sofa. While the red goo covering the biscuits looked unappetising, it also looked fresh.

  Lucy stood at the entrance to the hallway and peaked around the wall. Seeing no signs of movement, she moved deeper into the house. There were rooms off either side of the hall. Open doors revealed bedrooms, one of them dominated by an oversized bed and another housing a single mattress surrounded by a sea of books and magazines. From what she could see, the bedrooms were unoccupied.

  Two steps further along the hallway and she noticed the smell, a thick meaty odour that immediately filled her mouth and nose. One more step on creaking floorboards and her mind caught up with her olfactory senses. Lucy froze, eyes wide with fear.

  Blood. She’d smelt it before and would never forget the sickly sweet metallic odour. Was this it? Was this how she’d find Clem? Wanting to run but needing to know – needing to see with her own eyes what she smelled – she moved closer towards the kitchen.

  The carnage took her by surprise. She slumped against the doorframe. With a hand clamped to her mouth, she took in the blood and the bodies. Away from the sitting room the sound of blowflies was now evident over the blasting TV.

  She could feel something building in her stomach. Saliva flooded her mouth and still she couldn’t pull her eyes away from the two women on the floor. A fly buzzed near her head. Its wings touched her hair. The fragile control she had over her emotion snapped.

  She let out a cry of disgust and horror and the contents of her stomach rushed up her throat. She vomited onto the kitchen floor, her undigested lunch hitting the linoleum alongside a pool of blood. Her hands and legs were shaking and tears filled her eyes. She tried not to look, but her gaze landed on one of the women’s faces. In the second before she turned away, a fly crawled over the dead woman’s misty eyeball.

  Gagging, Lucy pushed off the doorframe and spun around. She needed to get out of the house, away from the hellacious scene and into the fresh air. Confused and ready to run blindly, she stumbled into the hall clinging to the wall for support. It was a smallish house, but the front door seemed far away and as she moved towards it the horror of what she’d seen settled into a bone deep fear.

  Someone had killed the two women in the kitchen. Had that person left in the Commodore or were they still in the house? The idea of being in the same house with the killer made the need to escape intensify, until the sound of her own panicked breathing drowned out the TV. It was then she heard a noise and knew she wasn’t alone.

  She ripped her hand away from the wall as though the house itself were the enemy. The noise came from the bedroom on her left. One of the rooms she’d thought to be empty. Convinced the killer was hiding behind the partially open bedroom door or waiting in the sitting room, she was caught between running for the front door and turning and exiting through the back.

  Going to the back door would mean seeing the dead women again, but heading for the front and through the sitting room meant the killer could be waiting for her just out of sight. She had to move and make a decision. Before she could act there came a sound barely audible over the heartbeat thudding in her ears.

  She jumped and turned in the direction of the bedroom. It came from the room with the oversized bed, she was sure of it. In that moment, she made the decision to head to the front of the house, but before she could put her plan into action, she heard the sound again.

  This time the noise cut through her fear and registered with clarity. A whimper, soft and childish. For a fraction of a second the floor seemed to tilt under her feet then crash back to solidity. Another whimper and all doubt vanished. She was sure what she was hearing was a child.

  Escaping the house was quickly forgotten as she crept towards the bedroom door. “Clem?”

  The curtains were drawn, allowing only a sliver of light to cut the gloom. Heart still hammering, she felt along the wall to her right and found the light switch. Illumination dispelled the shadows, but heightened the shabbiness.

  The bed was unmade, the sheets dingy and discoloured. Before going any further she held her breath and checked behind the door. The area was clear, but her body refused to relax. Legs quivering, she moved to the bed and dropped to the floor.r />
  Lucy pulled back the drooping sheet. For a moment, it looked like the area under the bed was bare save a ball of clothes. “Clem?”

  The shape moved further back towards the wall and she realised she was staring at the child’s legs and bottom. “Clem, is that you?” She was whispering, not wanting to alarm the obviously terrified child. “Clem Scott?”

  The boy fell onto his side and curled into a ball, hands clasped around the peanut butter jar. Now she could see his features. Wide and frightened eyes stared out of an almost colourless face. His hair was dark and there was no trace of the smiling boy in the woolly jumper, but she knew it was him. She’d found Clem.

  Tears welled in her eyes, but she tried to keep her voice calm. “Clem, I’m Lucy. Your mummy sent me to find you.”

  Clem blinked and his lower lip moved, but he made no move to come towards her. He’d most likely heard what happened in the kitchen and maybe had even seen the killings. Was it any wonder he was terrified or perhaps in shock? God knows she’d almost gone to pieces just seeing the bodies.

  “It’s all right, Clem.” She tried again. “I won’t hurt you, promise.” She forced a smile and lowered herself until she was lying flat on the floor. “I know there are scary things in this house.” She nodded her head and noticed Clem’s chin jerk. He was agreeing with her, so maybe she was getting through to him. “It’s not safe for us to stay here, you know that, don’t you?”

  He blinked and tears flooded his blue eyes. Lucy didn’t want him to see her crying, but she couldn’t hold back her own tears. “Come out, sweetheart. Let me take you home.” She stretched out her hand. “We have to go, Clem.”

  His lower lip trembled and his small hands tightened around the peanut butter jar. She seemed to be getting through to him, but they didn’t have time to waste. Whoever she saw driving off in the Commodore might return at any moment. While they remained in the house both she and Clem were in danger.

  “Clem, please come out. We have to go.” She was trying to stay calm while every nerve in her body was tingling with the need to get out of the house.

  Lucy turned her head and peered into the hall. The TV was so loud it might cover the noise of an approaching car. She had to get Clem out from under the bed, but the heavy queen size frame would be impossible to lift without risking injuring the boy.

  “Clem, I know you’re a big boy. Your mummy told me you were nearly five.” She wasn’t sure where she was going but had to win his trust and fast. “The people who took you from your front yard, they told you lies. I… I don’t know what has happened to you or if they’ve hurt you.” He was watching her, his eyes shiny and cautious, but there was also something else: interest.

  “I promise you, your mummy sent me.” Lucy licked her lips. “Her name is Sadie and she has pretty blonde hair like yours.”

  She noticed Clem’s hand slip from its place on the jar and creep up to his hair. He was listening. “Your mum works at the school in Boddington and she keeps a crate with jars like that one.” Lucy pointed at the peanut butter tub. “She showed me the jars because she knew you’d taken one.” He glanced down at the container. “You like…” For a second, her mind was blank and all she could think of was the fly crawling over the dead woman’s eyeball.

  “You like…” She closed her eyes, willing herself to find the right words. “You like grasshoppers.” Despite the situation and the fear pulsing through her veins, Lucy chuckled. “You love grasshoppers and… and your mummy calls you Hopper.”

  “Hopper.” His voice was a husky whisper but his eyes were alert now, as if a light had been turned on.

  Lucy nodded. “Hopper, let me take you home.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Driving into town was a mistake. He’d been in the liquor shop earlier. The bloke behind the counter would remember him. There might have been cameras. It wouldn’t take the cops long to figure out who he was. He couldn’t go back to town. He pulled over onto the red dirt shoulder and cradled his head in his hands.

  He’d take the fall for everything, the old woman, the kid, and Mimi. Mimi. He couldn’t get her face out of his mind. He could still smell her on his clothes. He could still feel her throat under his hands. Despite the warm air in the car, he shivered and held his hands up over the steering wheel expecting to see some sign of what he’d done.

  A part of him wanted to crawl back to that house, lie on the floor next to her and wait for death. But another part of him, something deeper, a fragment of the kid he’d once been was relieved it was over. Fifteen years of living under the weight of being in love with Mimi had brought him to the edge of madness. Or maybe he was already mad, because suddenly he felt human again.

  Smiley laughed and thumped the steering wheel. “Top of the pile. Top of the–”

  The words died on his lips. He was never going to be free, not until he took care of the boy. He was crazy to jump in the car and run. The kid knew his name or at least what everyone called him. He’d tell them what Smiley had done and then they’d be after him. It wouldn’t matter where he went or how much cash he had, the cops would never stop looking.

  The momentary feeling of elation collapsed into reality. Smiley scratched his bristly chin, wincing at the stab of pain in his gut. He had to go back. The car was registered to Mimi, the bloke at the liquor store looked stoned but might remember his face. Once the boy was gone Smiley would be in the clear. Still scratching, he pulled a pill out of his pocket and tossed it into his mouth. He washed the bitter taste away with a swig of rum and gritted his teeth.

  This was all Mimi’s fault. It started with her taking the kid. No, it went back much further than that. She’d been ruining his life for as long as he could remember. Smiley stared at his hands again, looking for a trace of her skin on his fingers. He would make it quick. Best not to let the boy suffer. He knew how it felt to be a little boy afraid of the world.

  He pulled back on the road and swung around in a wide U-turn. He’d take care of the boy, then clean the door handles and anywhere else he might have touched. If he got a wriggle on, he’d be back on the road in an hour. There were plenty of places he could dump the car. He had cash. There was nothing to stop him now.

  “Yeah.” He liked the idea of having a plan.

  It occurred to him he should search Elaine’s house before he left. Maybe the crazy old cow had hidden some cash under the linoleum. The plan was sounding better with each passing second. With the pills and the booze creating a euphoric rush, he turned onto the now familiar road and spotted a car up ahead.

  Had the silver-grey Saab been there when he’d left? All he could recall was panic and the need to put distance between him and two dead women. Smiley slowed his vehicle and pulled alongside the car, checking to see if someone was in the driver’s seat. Panic was returning, smothering his buzz and letting the pain in his gut jab its way back to life. The car was empty, but that didn’t mean he was in the clear.

  Flooring the accelerator, he watched the Saab in his rear vision mirror. It was a sharp looking ride, too flashy to be a cop car or the sort of bomb he’d expect to see on Elaine’s street. When his gaze landed back on the road, something black hit his windscreen and he stomped on the brake. The wheels locked and for a few seconds he was sliding sideways.

  Wrestling the wheel with what felt like numb arms, he finally brought the car under control. His chest was heaving and his hands were shaking. He’d only caught a glimpse of what hit the windscreen, but he knew it was a crow. Probably the same one that had been hanging around his car earlier. It’s following me. His mind was twisting in different directions, one minute formulating a plan and the next terrified that a crow was trying to get him. To get in my mouth.

  Smiley fumbled a cigarette out of the pack he kept in the console and stuck it between his lips. Before pulling forward and turning into Elaine’s driveway, he lit the smoke and sucked in a lung full.

  * * *

  Clem crawled out from under the bed and without hesitat
ing fell into Lucy’s arms. A breath caught in her throat as the little boy’s arms circled her neck.

  “It’s okay, Clem. I’m going to get you out of here.” She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his small body. “I’m going to take you home. We’re going to my car and then I’m driving us into town to the police station.”

  Clem’s body trembled as a sob hiccupped against her neck. She pressed her hand to the back of his head.

  “When we get to the police station, I’ll phone your mummy and you can talk to her.” She kept going, telling him what would happen all the while rocking him in her arms. “Then we’ll drive to your house and your mummy will be waiting to hug you.”

  A squeal of tyres on bitumen tore through the house and Clem’s body stiffened.

  “Smiley’s come back.” The boy’s voice was a shaky whisper. “He’s come to get me.” The last five words came out in a rush and between sobs.

  Lucy’s heart jumped into her throat as she tightened her grip on the boy.

  “Who…” Her mouth was dry, making the words difficult to form. “Who’s Smiley?” As she spoke, the hiss of tyres on gravel competed with the racket from the TV.

  Not waiting for Clem to answer, Lucy stumbled to her feet. With the boy still in her arms, she rushed out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen.

  “Hold onto me and don’t open your eyes until I tell you to.” Her tone was harsh, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was getting Clem out of the house before the man he called Smiley came back.

  With Clem’s legs wrapped around her waist, Lucy stepped into the kitchen. In the ten minutes since she’d found the bodies, the smell had intensified. Not allowing herself to look at the women on the floor, she made her way for the back door.

  To her relief there was an unlatched bolt, but no lock. She elbowed the door open and jogged down the back steps. From the front of the house she heard a car door slam. She held Clem tighter and tucked in near the house so as to avoid being seen from any of the home’s windows.