by Ben Cheetham
‘What about Mum?’ asked Jake. ‘You still love Mum, don’t you?’
‘I . . .’ Tom faltered. ‘I’ll always love her for giving me you.’ Reluctantly, he released Jake. He stared at him for a moment as if waiting for him to say something. Lips compressing into a white line, he gestured for him to get going.
Jake picked up the box and headed to the Mini. ‘Are you OK?’ Cathy asked as if she suspected Tom might have hurt him in some way.
Jake nodded. Suddenly it occurred to him what his dad had been waiting for him to say – I love you too. He felt a pang of regret. His dad was always saying it to him, but he never said it back. He just took it for granted, like everything else. Why did he do that? Why couldn’t he ever just say what his dad needed to hear? He reached for the door handle, but it was too late. His grandma was already reversing out of the driveway. He twisted in his seat, not breaking eye contact with his dad until they turned a corner.
As Cathy drove, she kept jabbing at her mobile phone. ‘Bloody forest,’ she muttered.
‘Who are you phoning?’ asked Jake.
‘Your granddad, but there’s no reception out—’ She broke off as Henry’s voice came through on loudspeaker, low and crackly.
‘What is it, Cathy?’
‘Henry, at last! I thought I’d never get through. It’s Amanda. She’s—’
‘You’ll have to speak up,’ interrupted Henry. ‘The line’s bad.’
Cathy’s voice rose almost to a shout. ‘Amanda’s in hospital. She’s had some kind of collapse.’
‘Did you say Amanda’s in hospital?’
‘Yes. Tom says she fainted, but I don’t—’ Cathy broke off with a sidelong glance at Jake, as if she’d been about to say something she didn’t want him to hear.
‘Don’t what?’
‘I don’t know what’s going on. Tom’s in an absolute rage. Something’s obviously happened between them.’
There was a silence as if Henry was mulling over what that ‘something’ might be. ‘Where are you now?’
‘I’m on my way home. Jake’s with me.’
‘OK, good. Drop him off and head over to the hospital. I’ll meet you there.’
‘Can’t I come with you?’ asked Jake.
‘No, Jake, I think it’s best if your grandma and I speak to your mum first,’ said Henry.
It was on the tip of Jake’s tongue to protest, but it occurred to him that this was the perfect opportunity to meet up with Lauren.
‘I’ll see you soon, Cathy,’ said Henry. ‘And try not to worry too—’ The line broke up and went dead.
‘Try not to worry,’ Cathy parroted with a shake of her head. ‘How am I supposed not to worry? This is . . . It’s . . .’ she trailed off, lost for words. Tears traced a path through the fine lines beneath her eyes. She wiped them away and squeezed Jake’s hand. ‘Take no notice of me, darling. Your granddad’s right. We have to stay positive.’ She nodded as if to reinforce her words, but there was little conviction behind it.
When they arrived at Ritton Hall, Cathy entered a code into a keypad and the gates swung inwards. She pulled up to the house, removed a key from a keyring and gave it to Jake. ‘That’s for the front door. If you’re hungry, there’s plenty of food. I’ll try not to be too long.’
She leaned across to peck Jake’s cheek. He watched her drive off, before going inside. He silenced the beeping alarm pad and headed upstairs past portraits of previous owners of the house dating all the way back to its builder, Mayhew Ritton – a grim-faced man with brown pageboy hair. Being alone in the house usually gave him the jitters. It was easy to imagine the portraits’ eyes following you along the gloomy, echoing hallways. But right then he had other things to worry about. Real things.
He put the nest box in the airing cupboard and took a quick peek to make sure the chick was OK. Then he went to the bedroom he always used when he stayed over – a smallish room in the oldest part of the house with uneven oak floorboards and a low crooked-beamed ceiling. There was a stone fireplace, a mahogany dressing table and an antique bed. A lead-lattice window overlooked a cascading fountain in the middle of the rear lawn. Erin had loved to play in the fountain as a toddler. On hot days she used to splash about naked and laughing with him chasing her.
He took out the diary and iPad. He slid the diary under the mattress and FaceTimed Lauren. She answered on the first ring. Her eyes were pasted in their customary black mascara. Her lips glistened with black gloss. She was kitted out in her camo jacket and, Jake noticed with a twinge of irritation, her blue-eye charm necklace that supposedly warded off evil spirits.
Jake pointed at the necklace. ‘Why are you wearing that bullshit?’
‘I don’t think it’s bullshit. And neither did you until now.’
‘Take it off.’ When Lauren hesitated to do so, he added, ‘Remember what we agreed. I’m calling the shots.’
Rolling her eyes, Lauren removed the necklace. With a suggestive lift of her eyebrows, she asked, ‘Satisfied, or do you want me to take anything else off?’
‘Yes . . . No . . . You know what I mean,’ said Jake, stumbling back into his usual awkwardness. Annoyed with himself for letting her wind him up, he snapped, ‘Look, just meet me at the park in ten minutes.’
He hung up and arranged the pillows beneath the sheets so it looked as if someone was sleeping in the bed. It wouldn’t fool anyone on closer examination, but it might do the trick at a glance. As he approached the window, he caught sight of the fountain again. His eyes lingered on it for a few seconds. He yanked the curtains shut and hurried from the room.
DAY 2
8.23 A.M.
The searchers passed flasks of coffee among themselves in the shade at the edge of a football-pitch-sized clearing. Henry was on the phone out of their earshot. Seth watched him, his legs jigging. The altercation between Tom and Graham had left him so charged with energy he couldn’t sit still.
‘Something’s going down,’ remarked Holly. ‘You don’t think—’ She broke off with a shake of her head, as if angry for allowing herself to entertain whatever thought was going through her mind.
Seth knew what she couldn’t bring herself to ask. It was the same unspoken question that had hung like a black cloud over the searchers since Tom and Graham were taken away – did Graham have something to do with Erin’s disappearance? The possibility was all too real. Turn on the news any day of the week and there were stories about family members abducting, abusing and murdering their ‘loved ones’. Seth had once read an article that pointed out that statistically kids were far more likely to be killed by their parents than by a stranger. But the statistics didn’t make it any easier to face up to. If anything, they seemed to make people bury their heads deeper in the sand. As if by ignoring the truth about themselves – that they were all just one misstep or piece of bad luck away from being monsters – it would go away.
Henry returned to the group grave-faced. ‘I’m sorry, everybody, I have to leave. Hopefully I should be back before too long. In the meantime I’ll put you in the hands of Eddie . . .’ He frowned. ‘Oh, we seem to be missing another member of our team.’
Seth quickly glanced all around. Eddie was nowhere to be seen. He remembered seeing him lighting a cigarette when the team stopped for a break. Then his attention had been taken up by Henry’s phone call. Eddie must have slipped away some time after that.
‘Did anyone see where he went?’ asked Henry. There was a general shaking of heads. ‘Well, then, someone else will have to take the lead.’ Before anyone could volunteer, Henry’s gaze landed on Seth. ‘What about you, Seth? Are you up to the challenge?’
Part of Seth – the part most comfortable observing from the fringes – felt like making some excuse about not knowing the forest well enough. But another part – the part desperate for validation and acceptance – wanted to jump up and shout, Yes! Acutely aware that all eyes were on him, he did what he was best at – imitating Henry’s expression, he nodded.
&n
bsp; ‘Good lad.’ Henry pressed a map, compass and walkie-talkie into Seth’s hands. ‘I’ve marked out the next search grid in red.’ He gave Seth an almost fatherly pat on the shoulder. ‘Good luck.’
Henry hurried away into the trees. Seth looked at all the eyes looking back at him. He’d gone through most of his life feeling disconnected from the people around him and, sometimes, even the ground he walked on. But the expectation in their eyes gave him a strange solid sensation, like a ghost made real.
They took up their positions. With the coming of daylight, they’d reverted to twenty-five-metre spacings. What’s more, the search grid centred on a particularly dense stretch of forest. That suited Seth perfectly. He was going to need some privacy.
They headed into the trees to the north of the clearing. The ground climbed steadily with occasional dips into weed-choked runnels. Seth kept furtively checking his phone. The reception flickered between zero and one bar. There was no point attempting a call if the line was too poor for the friendly chat he had in mind. He picked his way through a patch of gorse to a pimple of grass topped by more bushes. As he climbed, the reception jumped to two bars. This was his chance. ‘I’m just going to answer a call of nature,’ he told his fellow searchers. He waited until they were out of sight, then dropped to his knees and crawled under the bushes. Nestling into a hollow formed by several sandy burrows, he took out the voice-changer box and placed it against his phone. He dialled but after several rings his call went through to a generic voicemail. Twitching with annoyance, he tried again. This time his call was answered on the second ring.
His robotically distorted voice demanded to know, ‘Why didn’t you pick up the first time?’
‘I’m busy,’ replied the man.
‘Doing what?’
‘What do you bloody think? Getting your money together.’
‘You’d better be careful how you talk to me,’ warned Seth.
A heavy sigh filled the line. ‘Sorry. As you can imagine, I’m under a lot of stress. It’s not easy to come up with a million in cash in twenty-four hours.’
‘I have every confidence in you. If anyone can do it, you can.’ Seth’s voice was full of mocking encouragement. ‘If the money’s not in my hands in twelve hours you know what happens.’
‘You’ll get it, so long as I get all the letters in return.’
‘You will.’
‘I’d better.’ There was a warning in the man’s voice now.
‘I told you to watch your mouth. One more remark like that and I might decide there are more important things in life than money.’ Seth’s tone was both flippant and threatening. But there was something else in it, too, something that might have been the faintest nervous tremor.
‘You mean like love?’ The same sick yearning that Seth had noticed during their previous conversation was back in the man’s voice. ‘You know, she’s the only thing I’ve ever truly loved. I’d give every last penny I have to see her again. To touch her, to run my fingers over her milk-white skin, but most of all, to look in her eyes—’
‘Shut up,’ snapped Seth. His voice was thick with repulsion, but there was a deep throbbing in his groin. ‘Love is a lie.’
The man chuckled softly. ‘If only you were right. Then we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But love isn’t a lie. It’s a sickness. An addiction. Once it’s got its hooks into you, you’ll do anything for it.’
Seth flinched at the sound of twigs crunching outside the bushes. He hung up just before Holly called out, ‘Seth, where are you?’
He puffed his cheeks. Shit, that was close. A heartbeat later and the whole game would have been up. He wormed his way out of the bushes.
Holly’s eyebrows drew together. ‘What are you doing down there?’
‘I thought Erin might have crawled in here.’
As Seth stood up, Holly brushed his fringe out of his eyes. ‘Your hair’s a mess.’
At her touch, the throbbing intensified irresistibly. Before Seth even knew what he was doing, his arms were around Holly and he was pulling her to him, mashing his mouth against hers. His heart soared as her lips parted in reciprocation. But an instant later it plunged back to earth. ‘Whoa, whoa, stop,’ she said, drawing away as he thrust a hand up inside her shirt.
He didn’t want to stop. He wanted to run his hands all over her. Trembling with the effort of not giving in to his desire, he said, ‘I thought this was what you wanted.’
‘We’re here to find a missing girl, not—’
‘I understand,’ Seth cut in, the burning in his face turning from arousal to humiliation. He pivoted away from Holly and stalked towards the search line.
‘Wait, Seth,’ she called after him.
But he didn’t wait. He quickened his pace, muttering, ‘A lie. A big fat fucking lie.’
DAY 2
8.30 A.M.
As the police car passed beyond the outskirts of Middlebury, Tom re-sent the same text to Eddie for the tenth time in as many minutes. ‘On my way to Gallows Hill Wood. Meet me at my car asap.’ There was the ping of a return text. ‘Will do.’ It had been sent at 8.20. ‘How long do you think Inspector Shields will hold my wife and brother for?’ he asked Constable Hutton.
‘They can be held for up to twenty-four hours without charge,’ she replied non-committally.
‘That’s not what I asked.’
‘It really depends on them. If they cooperate fully, they may only be held for a short time.’ The constable glanced knowingly at Tom. ‘It would be advisable for you to stay away from both of them for now.’
Tom stared darkly out of the window. He had no intention of following Constable Hutton’s advice. A couple of TV news vans passed by, heading in the opposite direction. He wondered whether they’d got wind of what was happening at the station. Five or so minutes later, Constable Hutton turned into Gallows Hill Wood. It was deserted now, except for a lone constable watching over the assemblage of emergency service and volunteers’ vehicles.
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the main forest?’ Constable Hutton asked as Tom opened the passenger door.
‘This’ll do just fine.’
The constable treated Tom to another cautioning look, before putting the car into reverse. He approached his Volvo. There was a conspicuous space behind it where Graham’s Land Rover had been parked. Had it been taken away for examination? Eddie jogged into view, sweaty and breathless. ‘I got here as fast as I could. What the hell’s going on?’
Tom motioned for him to get in the car so they could talk without being overheard. ‘I need you to go back to Middlebury and park yourself between the hospital and the police station.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Amanda’s in the hospital and Graham’s at the station. I want to know about it the second either of them leaves.’
Eddie frowned. ‘The hospital. What’s Amanda doing there?’
‘She pulled a little fainting stunt.’
Eddie’s concern turned to surprise at Tom’s scathing tone. ‘Why would she do that? And what’s with the attitude?’
Tom sucked in his breath, gathering himself to say what he could still barely believe was true. ‘Her and Graham. They’re fucking.’
Eddie’s jaw slackened. ‘Are you sure?’
Tom knew what he was thinking. It wasn’t simply the fact Graham was his brother that made it so difficult to believe. Graham was such a dour, humourless man. A joyless sheep-shagger was how Eddie had once described him. And Amanda was . . . well, she was everything he wasn’t – beautiful, vivacious. What could she possibly see in someone like him? ‘Yes, I’m sure.’ Tom gripped the steering wheel as if he wanted to tear it out. ‘It gets worse.’
‘How can it possibly get any worse?’
‘They were on the phone to each other when Erin went missing. What if Erin overheard? What if . . .’ Tom trailed off. He couldn’t bring himself to voice any more of the what ifs in his mind.
‘Hold on. Just hold on a soddin
g minute. You can’t be suggesting they’ve got anything to do with all this.’
‘I don’t know what I’m suggesting. All I know is Amanda lied to the police and I’m going to find out why.’
‘Isn’t it obvious why? To keep you from finding out what they were up to.’
Tom stared at Eddie, his eyes desperate to believe but swimming with doubt.
‘Now you listen to me,’ Eddie continued firmly. ‘I’ve known Amanda as long as you have. And I’m telling you she’d rather die than let any harm come to her children. And as for Graham, well, I have to admit the bastard’s surprised me. I didn’t think he had it in him.’ There was a kind of perverse respect in his voice. ‘But him hurt your Erin?’ He shook his head. ‘I’ll tell you who’s behind this. Carl Wright and the rest of them fanatics. And when we roll into their camp a few hours from now, they’re gonna give us the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the fucking truth. Or we’re gonna decorate the quarry with their teeth. What do you say, Tom? Are you with me?’
Tom was motionless for a moment. Then he nodded.
‘And once we’re done with those eco-pricks, we’ll deal with Graham,’ added Eddie.
‘No. I’ll deal with him alone. First chance I get.’ Tom’s voice was heavy with hostile intent.
‘Just so long as you’re ready when the Geordies get here.’
‘You don’t have to worry about that.’
Eddie scrunched his features as if an unpleasant image had popped into his mind. ‘Amanda and Graham. I just can’t wrap my brain around it.’
‘You and me both.’ Tom’s gaze strayed beyond Eddie. ‘Well, well, look who it is.’
Henry was hurrying through the woods, head down, lost in frowning thought. He passed Tom’s car without looking up and climbed into his Range Rover.
