by Ben Cheetham
‘That’s him!’ cried Jake. ‘He’s the one.’
‘What one?’
Jake’s words tumbled out. ‘The one I’ve been reading about, Granddad. The one who killed the Inghams.’
Henry held up his hands. ‘Slow down, Jake. You’ve lost me. Do you mean Joanna and Elijah Ingham?’
Jake nodded. ‘I found Rachel’s diary. She was in love with someone called Hank. Her parents tried to keep them apart. That’s why Hank killed them.’
‘Where did you find this diary?’
‘Under Rachel’s bedroom floor.’
‘And where is it now?’
‘Upstairs. I’ll show you.’
Catching hold of his granddad’s hand, Jake pulled him up to his bedroom. Henry scrutinised the diary for a long moment. He puffed out his breath and shook his head. ‘This is incredible. For forty-odd years people have been blaming it on burglars, devil worshippers, even little green men. But no one ever suspected for a second that it could be anything to do with their own daughter. I remember her. Rachel Ingham. She seemed so . . . so sweet and innocent.’ He shook his head again, repeating, ‘Incredible.’
‘Do you think we should tell the police?’
‘There’s no question about it, but . . .’ Henry hesitated as if unsure whether he should say anything more.
‘But what, Granddad?’
‘I really don’t want to speak to the police right now. You see, Jake, something . . . well, let’s just say something’s happening.’
‘What’s happening?’
Henry was silent, his face puckered with uncertainty.
‘Please, Granddad, you can tell me. I’ll keep it secret if you want, I promise.’
Henry looked intently at Jake, then nodded as if satisfied by what he saw. ‘No one else knows what I’m about to tell you, and, for now, it has to stay that way. Your sister’s life depends on it.’
Jake’s eyes sprang wide. ‘Do you know where Erin is?’
‘No, but I know what’s happened to her. She’s been kidnapped.’
‘By who?’
‘I’ve no idea. But the kidnapper is demanding a ransom of one million pounds.’
‘One million,’ Jake repeated in astonishment. ‘Are you going to pay?’
‘I’d give every penny I have and more to protect my grandchildren.’
Images from kidnap movies reeled through Jake’s brain. He saw Erin tied up and blindfolded in a darkened room. He saw her being spoon-fed by a masked figure. Her kidnapper needed to keep her alive to get the ransom. But if the police got involved she would have to die. That was how it always worked. ‘So you’re going to meet the kidnapper.’
‘Once I’ve got the money together I’m to call and arrange a time and place to exchange it for Erin. I was about to make the call when you came into the room. I was trying to think of somewhere nearby and private to meet.’ Henry tapped the diary. ‘Now this has given me an idea.’
‘The Ingham house,’ Jake gasped, as if answering a life-or-death question.
Henry nodded. ‘I think it fits the bill perfectly. How did you get inside?’
Jake told him about the gap under the fence and the loose window plate. Henry steeled himself with a deep breath. ‘Right, I’m going to make the call. You stay here and don’t move a muscle. I don’t want to risk a single sound that might spook the kidnapper.’ His lips thinned into a tense smile. ‘Wish me luck.’
‘Good luck, Granddad.’ Looking at his granddad’s exhausted but determined face, Jake felt compelled to add, ‘I love you.’
‘I love you too,’ replied Henry. ‘More than my own life.’
DAY 2
12.06 P.M.
The search was reaching fever pitch as the prodding figures, snuffling dogs and circling helicopters were compressed into a smaller and smaller area. Seth emerged from the trees onto moorland dotted with dark pools and bisected by meandering streams. He marked off another completed grid on the map.
‘Where to now?’ asked Holly.
He pointed south-west along the straight edge of the man-made forest. ‘Sergeant Dyer says we’re to take a break first.’
‘We need it. Everyone’s knackered.’
The searchers gathered in the shade. No one had the energy for conversation. The mood had been buoyed by the discovery of the scrap of material, but tiredness had soon crept back in to sap their spirits. Seth shook his head when someone offered him a sandwich. He wandered away from the group onto the moor, half hoping Holly would follow, half hoping she wouldn’t. He sat down amid the heather, closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sun. He could still faintly hear his grandma: Little whore . . . Waste my time . . . Little whore . . .
‘Seth.’
His eyes snapped open and squinted up at Holly.
‘Do you mind if I sit with you?’ she asked.
He shook his head. They sat in silence for what seemed to him like a very long moment. He could sense her want, her desire to know him emotionally, mentally and physically. He realised now that she would never fully give in to the last of those desires until she’d satisfied the first two. He opened his mouth. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say until the words came out. ‘I didn’t come here for a holiday.’ His voice was low, like he was confessing his sins.
Holly looked at him curiously, but didn’t press him to go on.
His grandma’s voice rose up louder than ever: Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare!
‘This is difficult for me.’ Seth’s blank face seemed to contradict his words. He didn’t possess an expression that made sense of the emotions competing for space inside him. ‘My grandma died last week.’
Idiot. Retard. Unspeakable moron!
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘You wouldn’t be if you’d known her. She . . .’ was a fucking bitch. Seth’s mouth adjusted the thought to, ‘She wasn’t a very nice person. She took me in after my mother abandoned me. I sometimes think she only did it so she’d have someone around to yell at and call names. Every day it was idiot this, retard that.’
‘That’s horrible.’
That’s nothing, thought Seth, his mind spooling back over the times his grandma had beaten him black and blue, the times she’d locked him under the stairs until he was faint with thirst and hunger.
‘She kicked me out when I was fifteen. I spent the next few years sleeping rough.’ At Holly’s horrified expression, he added, ‘It wasn’t so bad really. In some ways it was a lot better than being at home. I could do my own thing. I got beaten up a few times, but mostly no one messed with me. Last year I managed to get a job. Nothing special, just a factory job. But I saved up enough to rent a bedsit. I decided to go see Grandma for the first time in a couple of years. I don’t really know why. I think I just wanted to show her that I wasn’t the total waste of a life she’d made me out to be. She was sick. Too weak to work or even look after herself. The landlord was going to kick her out. I couldn’t let that happen. Even with all the crap she’d done to me, she was still the only family I had. So I stayed and looked after her.’
Seth fought an urge to drop his gaze at the undeserved admiration and sympathy in Holly’s eyes. His grandma had had a way of twisting people to her own ends. She’d had nothing except contempt for men – or anyone else for that matter – but she’d used them for money and protection. She would make these eyes at them. Wide, scared eyes. Like she was a deer in the headlights and they were the only ones who could save her. And they would fall for it time and again. But Seth had seen the trick too many times for it to work on him. He would have abandoned her to her fate if she hadn’t pulled another trick out of her sleeve. She’d promised to tell him a secret that would make him rich. He’d been sceptical; after all, she told lies like other people ate bread. But she’d shown him her scrapbook of articles about the Ingham murders. Pointing at a black-and-white photo, she’d said, ‘That’s me with your great-grandma and granddad. Their killer was never caught. But I know who did it. It
was someone rich. And they’ll make you rich too, if you play your cards right.’
Seth had known at once what she was suggesting – blackmail. He’d known, too, that she was telling the truth about the photo. Rachel Ingham might have had a different name to his grandma, but she had the same big brown eyes. The realisation had led to a swirl of questions. How did she know who the killer was? Why hadn’t she told the police? Why hadn’t she blackmailed the killer herself? In reply, his grandma had cackled and said, ‘All in good time.’
‘What was wrong with her?’ asked Holly.
Seth shrugged. ‘She wouldn’t see a doctor. She was terrified of them.’ That was true, but only in a loose sense. His grandma had been terrified of doctors, along with anyone else she considered to be snooping official types. He’d thought this was down to her professed hatred of authority, until he learned she was living under an assumed identity. ‘I did the best I could, but she went downhill fast. Last Monday she started having difficulty breathing. I begged her to let me phone an ambulance, but she refused. What could I do? It was her life, right?’
‘I suppose,’ Holly said a touch uncertainly. ‘Wasn’t she afraid of dying?’
‘She didn’t seem to be. I stayed with her all night. She got worse and worse until her lips turned blue. Before she died, she asked me to bring her ashes back to where she was born and scatter them on her parents’ graves.’
Holly’s eyebrows lifted in understanding. ‘She was born in Middlebury.’
Seth nodded. ‘That’s why I came here.’
This was an outright lie. His grandma couldn’t have cared less what happened to her corpse. He’d left her to rot in the shitty little flat where she died. He thought about the final minutes of her life – her bony, liver-spotted hand pointing him to the love letters; her barely there voice laying out the truth about the murders. ‘Hank was clever,’ she’d said, ‘but not as clever as me. He tried to make me forgive him for killing Micah by sending love letters signed with his real name. He kept it up for years, even after he got some whore pregnant and had to marry her. But I’ll never forgive him. Not even when I’m in Hell.’ A smile had flickered on her lips, as if manipulating some psycho into killing her parents was her proudest achievement. But Seth had sensed the hollowness behind it. Not even she’d been able to fully conceal that.
‘What was your grandma’s name?’ asked Holly.
‘Tina Dixon.’ Seth heard again the chuckle of twisted glee that had sputtered through his grandma as she told him about the real Tina Dixon.
‘Dixon,’ mused Holly. ‘That’s quite a common name in these parts. You might still have family around here.’
‘Grandma said they were all dead. Which suits me fine. I don’t want anything more to do with my family.’
‘What about your dad?’
‘I’ve never met him. I don’t even know his name, and I don’t want to.’
Holly wrinkled her forehead. ‘I just can’t wrap my head around the thought of having no family.’
‘You get used to it.’
‘I don’t think I could get used to it. I think I’d go mad.’
‘When I lived with Grandma, I often used to feel like I was going mad. Even now she’s dead, I . . .’ Seth dropped into clumsy silence, struggling to find the words to express himself. His head felt woozy. He’d held back most of the truth. But even so, the last ten minutes had exhausted him more than the previous two days.
Wait for it. Here it comes, sneered his grandma. This is where she runs a mile. Why would she want anything to do with a pathetic failure like you?
Holly gave Seth a tentative look. ‘When this is over we should do something. Go for a meal or a drink or whatever.’
You were wrong! You were wrong! The realisation rang in Seth’s head like church bells. Another realisation pierced him. Wrong or right, it made no difference. When this was over, when his business here was complete, there would be no going out for drinks with Holly. He would have to put as much distance as fast as possible between himself and Middlebury. He wondered desolately whether he would ever meet anyone like her again or whether he was doomed to always be alone.
Poor baby. His grandma made sarcastic boo hoo noises. Forget her. If by some miracle you pull this thing off, you’ll be able to buy all the little whores you ever need.
As if to reinforce her words, Seth’s phone rang and a familiar number flashed up. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, jumping to his feet and moving quickly away. Descending into a gully with a stony stream trickling through it, he answered the call and opened his mouth to speak.
The voice box! As he placed the little box against the phone’s mouthpiece, his grandma jeered, You really are the biggest idiot I’ve ever known.
‘You don’t call me, I call you,’ he snapped into the phone, reddening with anger at himself.
‘I’ve got the money,’ came the unruffled reply.
‘You’ve got the money,’ Seth said like a distorted echo, a rise of surprise in his voice. He felt an almost hysterical urge to laugh. See I can do it, he triumphantly told his grandma. I can! I can!
You’re not home and dry yet, she cautioned.
‘Yes, that’s what I said. We need to meet right away.’
There was something condescending in the speaker’s tone that irritated Seth. He felt as if the strings of control were being subtly prised out of his hands. He tried to grab them back. ‘I decide when and where we meet.’
‘Fine, but I’m alone now. Later there’ll be other people here and it’ll be impossible for me to slip away without being noticed.’
Seth frowned in thought. He’d already decided where they would meet – an isolated stretch of road outside Middlebury. He’d gone through the scenario in his mind a thousand times. He would be wearing a balaclava and – in case anything funny went down – carrying a replica handgun. The exchange would happen quickly and silently, then both men would go their separate ways. He did a quick calculation. If he feigned illness, someone would doubtless give him a lift back to town. But first he would have to walk out of the forest. That would take the best part of an hour. Then say fifteen or twenty minutes to drive to the hotel, five minutes to pick up the letters, another ten to drive to the meeting place. And, of course, he wanted to be there first to make sure he wasn’t heading into an ambush or anything. ‘We’ll meet in two hours. There’s a road about three miles north of Middlebury—’
‘My wife has my car. It has to be somewhere I can walk to. I was thinking we could meet at the Ingham house. I assume you know where that is.’
There was that condescendingly superior tone again. But this time it aroused curiosity rather than irritation. Yes, Seth knew where the house was. He’d been debating whether to pay it a visit ever since arriving in town, torn between a fascination to see where his grandma grew up and the thought, What does it matter? All you need to know about her is that she can’t hurt you any more.
Perhaps I can’t hurt you, but he can, pointed out his grandma.
‘What are you trying to pull?’ asked Seth.
‘Nothing, I promise you on my family’s life.’
‘We both know what your promises are worth.’
The voice on the other end of the line took on a note of offence. ‘I promised to protect my Rachel and that’s what I did.’
In a twisted way, there was no denying the truth of those words. But that didn’t make Seth any more comfortable with the idea of meeting a murderer on his former killing ground.
‘Look, do you want this money today or not?’ continued the man. ‘Because this is the only way it’s going to happen.’
Seth’s head turned as he heard his name being called in the distance. He peered over the lip of the gully. Holly was wading through the heather in his direction. Did he want the money today? He had to make a decision fast. ‘OK, the Ingham house it is.’ He knew he was being manipulated, but what other choice did he have?
He hung up as Holly shouted, ‘Seth, we’re continuing
the search.’
‘I’ll be there in a minute.’ Squatting by the stream, Seth slapped his cheeks and splashed a little water over his face to make it look as if he was clammy with fever. It was a trick he’d used before to bunk off work early. He glimpsed something on the far side of the stream – something shiny. He balanced across the water on stones and squatted to get a closer look. It was a broken silver bracelet with a heart on it. He looked along the stream in both directions. To his right it curved around a grassy bend. To his left an overhanging boulder jutted out of the gully bank. He squinted at the dark shadows and even darker peaty earth beneath it. His eyes widened.
DAY 2
12.27 P.M.
Jake resisted the urge to pace around as he waited for his granddad. He didn’t want to risk even a single creak of the floorboards. He kept directing frowning glances at the diary. Something was niggling at him but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Not with his mind spinning with thoughts of Erin. The door opened and his granddad entered.
‘It’s all arranged,’ Henry said tensely. ‘The exchange will take place in an hour’s time at the Ingham house.’
‘Did you speak to Erin?’ In the movies, the cops or whoever always asked to speak to the kidnapped person.
‘No.’
‘Then how do you know she’s still alive?’
‘I don’t.’ Henry patted the brown leather briefcase he was carrying. ‘But the kidnapper isn’t getting this until I see Erin.’
‘There’s a million pounds in there? It doesn’t look big enough.’
‘A million pounds takes up less space than you’d think. Now I’d better get going. I want to get to the house well before the kidnapper.’
‘I’m coming with you.’
Henry shook his head firmly. ‘No, no, no. That’s not happening.’
‘But I can help,’ protested Jake. ‘What if the kidnapper tries to hurt you?’
‘I don’t want you any more involved than you already are, Jake.’
