CHILDHUNT: A Mystery & Suspense Thriller in the Bestselling Diana Rivers Series (The Diana Rivers Mysteries Book 5)

by Faith Mortimer

Clare and Adam talked it through and decided that she should stay with Debbie if she wanted her company, otherwise she would join the searchers. While the others went to find their coats and boots, she took Diana to one side.

  “I know what you’re thinking, and I think you’re right about Debbie’s first husband.”

  Diana gazed at her old friend, thinking how little she knew about her all those years ago. Clare was the first person she had met who was a natural clairvoyant. She wondered whether it was a burden or a blessing. “There’s a violent pattern to all this. But at the moment, what purpose will this knowledge serve with Claude Brookes in his grave?” Diana asked as much to herself as to Clare.

  “Going back to the disappearance of Sally and Stuart hasn’t helped us much.”

  “Since he’s dead, we have to look for another person. Maybe there’s someone who knew all about the case. There’s Debbie’s old friend, James, the bookshop manager. What do we know of him? He was obviously enamoured with Debbie. Could he have followed her here? Perhaps he was more in love or obsessed with her than she believed. Stranger things have happened. I believe her when she says someone’s been watching her.”

  Both women turned and looked out of the window. At that moment, the wind blew down the valley from the mountains in the north, causing the snow to rise in flurries and hiss against the glass.

  *****

  Diana eyed the small group who stood talking quietly just inside the kitchen of the Frosts’ home. She knew them all—some better than others—and knew them to be a tough, uncompromising bunch who wouldn’t let a bit of snow get in their way, although it would have been many feet deep in the valley bottoms. Diana was grateful they had turned up and did a quick headcount. She wasn’t surprised to find a tally of fifteen people, not including Adam, Steve, Clare and herself. As Roger had yet to show, she didn’t include him.

  The majority were male, but she noticed Morwenna, Sharon, Jeanette and Elaine among them. They were the fittest of the women and usually kept up with the best on their Sunday runs. Running her eye over the tight bunch of hatted and scarfed men, she recognised the strongest and fastest of the runners, with a handful of the most stalwart walkers. That day, they were all going to need every ounce of their stamina and strength. Adam had devised a search based on methods used back in the UK and had just gone over the details with everyone.

  Apart from the hashers, people living in the village were going to retrace their footsteps from the previous day and search the outer dwellings which might have been missed during the snowstorm. Once that had been completed, they planned to fan out until they eventually met up with Adam’s search parties. Roy and Geraldine from The Magic Teapot pub had chivvied as many people as they could into turning out into the cold once again. Diana was gratified to learn that no one had refused to help. Geraldine had also proved to be the consummate hostess, providing boxes full of bagged pasties, coffee, sandwiches and cakes, for everyone.

  “Geraldine, you’re a marvel! How on earth did you manage to get so much food together at once?” Diana gasped, when she saw the small mountain of supplies.

  Geraldine was swathed in a heavy sheepskin coat and muffled up to her ears in a thick scarf. Her eyes glistened beneath the fringe of her dark reddish-brown hair, and she chuckled at Diana’s compliment.

  “It’s not all down to me. I’ve had a small army helping overnight. Once people knew what was planned for today, those that couldn’t help on foot raided their kitchens. I’ve had most help with the food from the girls—Hannah, Jemma, and Pauline. Oh, and Gerry up the road very kindly sent along dozens of her famous veggie samosas. People have been amazing with their help and good wishes. God, it’s still freezing,” she said, stamping her feet. “I’m not coming out with you, as my leg is still playing up. Besides, someone has to mind the fort.”

  “I think you’ve managed heaps as it is. The search teams will appreciate it. We’re off in a minute. Can I please beg a favour?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks. Steve’s mum is threatening to get down here. I really don’t want her out in the cold, and besides she’s likely to be a bloody pest. If she says anything, can you say she’s needed at home? You know, keep the fire going, that sort of thing. If she were to join us, no doubt we’d end up searching for her after five minutes. Gwen won’t admit to her age and still thinks she’s forty. Last time she was out here, she met Roger and took a shine to him. He was terrified, poor devil!”

  Geraldine nodded. “No problem. I’ll get her to either stay put or she can come up to ours. She can keep my mum company. Now that’ll be worth watching…they’re so different.” She laughed. “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t, what with all that’s going on, but you know what I mean.”

  “I certainly do!”

  Geraldine looked round at the group gathered around the boxes, each helping themselves to a food parcel. “By the way, talking of Roger, I don’t see him here.”

  “No, he left and went home late last night. Funny thing is he said he’d only be gone for less than an hour, but he never came back. I…I do hope he’s all right.”

  “I hope so too. Hey, look, it seems like people are moving out. Diana, I heard about your friend Clare and her gift. I had a brief chat with her just now. I know someone back in Bristol who’s just like her—has the same powers and all.”

  “She says the children are still alive. I do hope she’s right.”

  “If she’s as good as my friend, then she will be.”

  Diana wondered whether she should say anything to Geraldine. She was a good friend of hers. “I’m sure she knew what she was doing yesterday. There is just one thing, though. Roger—she had this crazy idea he might know where the kids were—he might even have made contact with them.”

  Geraldine gasped and hurriedly looked round before replying. “Really? She doesn’t mean he’s involved does she? Surely not, Roger seems as straight as anything.”

  “No. At least, I…I don’t think so. She said it was very a weak link. She was vague. Perhaps he knows something without realising it himself. This clairvoyancy lark is a bit of a mystery to me.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  Adam caught Diana’s eye and jerked his head towards the driveway. “Sorry, Geraldine, I’ve got to go. I’ll keep in touch by phone if we find anything.”

  The group moved together down the snowy drive, guided by torchlight. Because of the weather conditions and the difficult terrain, Adam was insisting people searched in groups of no less than three. His main concern was that if someone fell and was hurt, there was at least one individual who could stay with the injured person while the other went for help.

  “Sounds like good sense to me,” agreed Wee Willy as he set off with his mate Randy Turner.

  Adam grinned at Diana as he joined him. “Know all their names yet?” she teased. During the small hours, she and Steve had explained to Adam the hash tradition of nicknaming their members.

  “The names are supposed to reflect the hasher’s character in some way. They can be funny or derogatory, but sometimes they’re just plain filthy.”

  When Adam raised his eyebrows in query, Steve filled him in. “It’s daft but quite fun, although I’d hate to have some of the names people are given.”

  “Give me an example.”

  “Well, take Diana, for instance. If she wrote westerns, she most probably would be called something like, Annie Get your Gun, Minnie Ha-ha or Calamity Jane. If you’re a complainer, you could be called something like Whinge Bucket, or if you never shut up, then Verbal Diarrhoea or Shut-the-Fuck-Up. I know it’s silly but just a bit of fun. Some are even quite nice.”

  “I see. And what are yours, then?”

  “Mine’s Hamstring and Di’s …Emmanuelle.”

  “Emmanuelle?” Adam bit back a laugh.

  “Stop smirking, you idiot, or I’ll thump you,” Diana said crossly.

  “But why Emmanuelle? That has connotations. Di! If I didn’t know better!”

/>   Steve had smiled at his wife and gave her a hug. “The hashers got it all wrong. They thought she was involved with erotic books and magazines, and they got carried away with that theme. You know, sex and the old X-rated films. It doesn’t mean anything else.”

  Adam said nothing more but looked thoughtful.

  Chapter 26

  He stood transfixed, staring down at the gore in front of him. By the light of his lamp, he saw the head of his axe buried deep within the skull of his neighbour. A dark pool was welling beneath the body…bits of flesh and a jelly-like substance was oozing from the wound. It wasn’t meant to happen like that. It was all going wrong!

  Nothing was working as he had planned. He could never have dreamed it would snow like it had. Okay, so the police had been there twice, and they were satisfied everything was in order...but when he needed to dispose of the bodies, he would probably leave a trail of blood in the snow unless he was lucky. It was all extra work and problems he hadn’t foreseen. He needed to think that one through. His heart began to thump in his chest. Keep calm! No one suspected. But…he wanted to get back to the little girl.

  He had moved her indoors because the girl had become mildly hypothermic after giving her a second dose of the drug. He now had to wait until she woke up—if she did. She had to! He wanted to study her reaction when he held her against him. He wanted to feel her little body squirming and twisting away from him so much it was painful. Deep in his loins, his desire was building, reaching a state that was fast becoming frantic. He imagined her half-naked body…damn, he had to wait.

  He couldn’t let everything he had so carefully planned slip away before he had a chance to live his dream! Choking back a sob, he felt his desire and anticipation change to displeasure and bitterness. He wiped a sticky hand along his trousers. He wasn’t sweating anymore, but he could smell his own body odour: thick and acrid against the freezing cold.

  He would have the girl later, when he had more time…but where was the boy? Drat the little bastard. The boy, with the big eyes that were so like Yvonne’s, gave him no pleasure now. Yvonne: that child-like woman. He thought back to when she worked in the bookshop, all those years ago. When he told her she could be anything she wanted if she set her mind to it. He had held her in the palm of his hand…it had been so easy to make her love him…she needed him…she wanted to have a reason to love.

  His mind jerked back to the present, and he remembered where he was. Where was the boy? He was a threat. He couldn’t escape; otherwise it would be the end. He had to find him. It was better that he killed him now. He would kill and get rid of him along with the other unwelcome body. What better than to remove any threat to his plan with the girl. He would toss them both down the garden well. Their bodies would be carried along the underground river and eventually come out miles down the valley into the reservoir. He shivered with pleasure at the solution. No one would ever guess. Afterwards, he would be safe, with nothing threatening him, and he could settle down to enjoy her torture.

  He would have all day, and then once he was satiated with pleasure, he would dispose of her…she could join her brother. Then he would leave the island. He would tell anyone who asked that he no longer felt the quiet—once idyllic—island was for him…the last few days had upset him too much. He could go back to England or anywhere in the world if he wanted. He could lose the weight he had deliberately put on and cut his hair back into shape. Later in some far way town he would find some other little girl…just like before. She would be walking alone…straight off a town estate, and he would say he knew her mummy and was going that way. Hop in the car and I’ll give you a ride. He sighed. He loved the planning…and it always worked.

  Thinking about the day to come, he felt better. And he would feel even better once he found the boy and ended the threat. The boy was a nuisance and reminded him of what Yvonne had told him six years ago. She wanted to escape from her marriage; she said she felt trapped. She realised what a mistake it was, and she had been looking for someone who understood her. She had sounded so ungrateful, and her pleading made his life uncomfortable…he had to help her.

  Forgetting her, he turned back to thoughts of the boy. He couldn’t have gone far in the deep snow; he was only small…and shoeless. He would have no trouble tracking him down. Philip Bolton moved away from the gruesome sight before him and shone his lantern around the garage. He could see nothing resembling a boy cowering in the shadows. He checked underneath his car and made a slow tour round the room. Nothing. As he arrived back at his starting place he noticed that the trapdoor to the cellar was open. Surely the child wouldn’t have gone back down there on his own accord? Bolton walked down the first few steps and lifted his lantern high above his head. Again there was nothing but dark empty space apart from the bed and the two clay jars. The little snot must have run outside. In a temper, Bolton let the trapdoor fall with a crash, thinking that when he laid his hands on the kid, he would relish throttling him very, very slowly.

  The sense of threat all round him always enhanced his awareness. It was always the same and definitely like when he had taken Sally and Stuart almost six years ago. His plan back then had been hastily put together. It was only after Yvonne had phoned and said she was worried about Sally that he had to make a move. He knew Yvonne’s movements well; she had told him enough times about her dreary days. He arrived at the shops before her and left his car at the back of the car park, hidden behind the row of bottle and Humana clothing banks. Yvonne got out of her seat, leaning into the back of her car while she spoke to the children. She seemed to come to a decision, because she stood back, checked she had her bag over her shoulder and closed the door. She hurried across the tarmac towards the shop, only glancing back once just before entering the supermarket. It was a freezing cold day, and there was hardly a soul around braving the weather.

  He quickly crossed over to Yvonne’s car and without hesitating, opened the door. He recalled how surprised and nervous they had been at first, until they realised who it was. They were so submissive. Unquestioning when he said he was taking them to MacDonald’s, and Mummy was going to meet them there. He would telephone and tell her, and wouldn’t it be a big surprise? And he had another treat for them in the boot of his car, a present for each of them. Excited, the children had scrambled from Yvonne’s car and hurried with him to his own. He briefly looked around, but the car park was still empty and his car hidden behind the charity boxes. He opened the boot of his car, and the children eagerly leaned in. With one swift move he brought the lid down upon their tender little heads. After that, it was easy to wind their scarves tighter around their necks…pick them up and toss them into the boot. With one more cursory look around him, he climbed into his car and drove back to towards the university. Minutes later, he was browsing through the latest delivery of first-year student books in the campus bookstore. He mingled with staff and students alike…no one would have noticed what time he had returned and entered the building.

  He was careful to keep his phone switched off because he didn’t want Yvonne calling him with her cries of panic, and he stayed away from his university room and telephone. After establishing a reasonable enough time for his alibi, he told a colleague he was leaving for the day. The drive was less than ten miles from where he worked and lived. Inside the wood, it was completely silent. He had already decided where he would bury the bodies; under the wide oak, the ground was still soft from recent rain and hadn’t yet frozen. The grave would be shallow but adequate for two small bodies.

  He was pleased with himself. History was about to be repeated. He recognised danger and seized the moment; he would not be thwarted. He walked around the perimeter of the house until he returned to the garage. “Charlie, where are you? You can come out now. It’s time to take you and Hannah back home.” He waited and listened in the silence of the falling snow. He lifted his lantern, and as the wind blew, the flame rose and fell against the glass. There was no place to hide in the garage or the garden. He was hard
ly likely to have gone into the house either. Bolton couldn’t make out any small tracks through the snow. So where the devil was he hiding? “Charlie, where are you? Don’t you want to go home with Hannah and see your mummy? She’s waiting for you, she’s not ill, I was mistaken. She’s all better.”

  He heard nothing but the soughing of the wind through the trees. He didn’t panic. There was plenty of time to find him, and he knew the boy would never find his way home. He realised that if he was about to start a proper search of his property, he had to get rid of his interfering neighbour, quickly and immediately. It would soon be daylight, and that would bring back the hapless police with their search teams. The well was lightly covered with a hinged wooden board and a piece of mesh. It was a simple task to remove both and pitch the body into the water. As he heaved Roger up onto the wall, he heard him utter a low moan. He wasn’t dead! How thrilling! Philip Bolton didn’t hesitate. Instead, he allowed himself a satisfied smile when he heard the splash forty feet below. His neighbour would either die of his injuries or drown. He imagined him tumbling and turning in the underground river on its journey to the reservoir.

  Then, he could concentrate on finding the boy.

  Chapter 27

  The search had begun. Starting from the Frost household, each group began the painstaking hunt for the two small children. Diana was relieved after discovering that at least six members of the hashers were either ex British army or policemen. They had either past experience or knowledge of search and rescue, and a couple remembered manoeuvres on Dartmoor and the mountains of Wales. Adam was quick to place a veteran with two willing amateurs, ensuring the teams were more or less equal. Everyone had a stick, a mobile telephone, food and coffee or at least some water in a backpack. A few simple medical supplies completed their kit. If they had carried more weight, the snowy conditions would have hampered their work even more.

  Within half an hour the teams had fanned out across the surrounding countryside and already a couple had disappeared down into the nearest deep valley. Everyone wore walking boots, and many were lucky enough to possess waxed leg gators, which they wore over their waterproof trousers. They would help keep the wet out of their footwear.