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

by Faith Mortimer

  “Jesus, Diana, I really thought I was going to die when the ledge gave way. How on earth did you manage? I know I’m no lightweight. Hey, stop crying!”

  Diana wiped her face on the back of her sleeve. She didn’t look a lot better than her friend. “Sorry, I know I keep apologising, but I think I’m a…a bit shocked. I don’t know how I managed, I just knew I had to.” She gave a loud sniff.

  “Well, thank goodness for rucksacks and leather belts, although I think this has seen its day.” She indicated the rucksack, and Diana stared in horror. The straps had almost been pulled from the sack. Another few minutes and Clare would have definitely fallen. “Please don’t keep saying sorry, we all do daft things sometimes. The good thing is we managed it. Wait until we tell the boys. They’ll never believe us in a million years.”

  At the thought of the others, both girls immediately sat up and looked down the hill. There was still no sign of either Randy or Wee Willy, nor any of the other rescue parties. They might have been the only ones out in the valley that afternoon. Diana remembered Clare had been about to ask her a question before their frenetic activity, and she asked her what she wanted to say.

  Clare went very still and looked at her with an earnest expression. “This. Whatever happens later, for once in your life, use your head.”

  Diana frowned and shrugged her shoulders. “What do you mean?”

  “Just what I said. Something in my head is insisting I tell you that. Perhaps…perhaps something will happen, and you have to make a decision. I can’t say any more. Promise me,” she urged.

  Diana stared at Clare in astonishment. “All right. I have no idea what it could mean, but I promise I will.”

  She still couldn’t believe how stupid she had been that day. First, she fell in the stream and soaked her phone. (Diana tried using it again, but it still wasn’t responding.) Then, she foolishly put Clare’s life at risk. She hated to think what Steve and Adam would say about incapable, interfering, unbelievable and dopey women once they all got together again. Sometimes she acted stupidly.

  Diana stood up and held out a hand to Clare. “I think we ought to get moving, otherwise we’ll be even further behind and miss joining up with the others. Can you manage, Clare?”

  “My ankle feels slightly twisted. I’m afraid you’ll have to give me a hand up the hill.”

  The sun had disappeared behind a thick bank of clouds bearing down the valley from the mountains. A keen wind had picked up and immediately the temperature dropped. Diana felt chilled in her wet trousers, and despite the hard climb, she was no longer sweating. As well as being an arduous scramble, Diana and Clare discovered the ground was covered in a variety of flora. Cypriot acacia bushes were extra prickly with long wicked thorns, and the women soon found themselves covered in scratches on their bare skin when they had to crawl up steep banks.

  Diana paused to catch her breath and wondered how much further they had to go before reaching the summit. Glancing round, she thought she could see a couple of people in the distance. From their slow movements, she guessed they were part of one of the other search teams. There was no sign of Randy and Wee Willy, and she assumed they had gone even further than she first thought. Bother! She knew she was going to get it in the neck for allowing her party to split up. She had been so deep in thought and full of her own importance. Giving Clare an encouraging smile, she dug her toes in and continued up. After another ten minutes climbing, they lifted their heads and looked up the slope. The house they were aiming for was now in sight, and both breathed a sigh of relief. They were exhausted and leaning forward on their knees, took deep gulps of air.

  *****

  Philip Bolton watched the scene unfold before him as soon as it was light. He saw the parties of searchers fan out over the hills, poking in the snowdrifts with their little sticks. One party passed his house on the road side, and he had gone out and asked them how they were doing in their search.

  “It’s a dreadful thing to have happened and on such an awful day. Now the power has been restored, I’ve been listening to the local radio. Have you any leads on the Frost children’s whereabouts or what could have happened to them?” he asked courteously. When the searchers said there was no news except for the discovery of a child’s shoe, he shook his head in mock concern. “The poor little things. They’re not likely to survive in this weather for long. I’m only sorry I’m not fit enough to join you. Unfortunately, I have dodgy knees these days. Years ago I was pretty hot on orienteering, and I would have stayed out all day. But if I see or hear anything, I’ll be sure to get in touch with The Magic Teapot and pass it on. By the way, you said you found a child’s shoe. Where was that?”

  Afterwards, he loitered on his snowy drive long enough to ensure they left the vicinity before hurrying upstairs to his binoculars to check the position of the search teams. So! They had found a shoe by the river bank, had they? It must have been washed down from when he threw the shoes into the well. It was fortunate for him. With any luck—and he believed his own was linked with the devil’s—they would assume the two children had fallen in the river and drowned. With a smirk, he let out a wild giggle when he saw the increased numbers of people straggling along the course of the river. It was all falling into place nicely, just as it had done so many times before. This was just too easy.

  He kept his binoculars on the strap round his neck and walked into one of the spare bedrooms. The room contained nothing but an unmade double bed, a wardrobe and chest covered with some bathroom toiletries, towels and bed linen. To anyone glancing into the room, it looked about to be made welcome for a visitor. The fresh linen and towels and complimentary toiletries on the chest clearly indicated this. He paused at the chest and on impulse pushed the linen to one side and threw back the lid. Lying on her back with her mouth and hands taped was Hannah. Her eyes opened in terror at the man looming over her, and she gave a muffled scream.

  Philip gave her a fond smile and stroked her soft downy cheek. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised. “Then we’ll play a nice little game together. It’ll be fun.” He replaced the linen over the lid and went back downstairs, whistling a tune between his teeth.

  It was time he resumed his search for Charlie. Confound the little bugger! He really had no idea of his whereabouts, but without shoes he couldn’t have gone far. Philip didn’t understand how he could have got away so quickly. One minute he was poised on the edge of the cellar steps next to his neighbour. After he had dispatched him with his axe, he turned round to do the same to the boy and found him gone. Vanished into thin air! Feeling some concern, Philip spent some time checking under the car, in the car, on the floor of the garage, in the cellar and just outside. There were some smudged footprints, undoubtedly left from his neighbour’s boots, and the boy could have followed in them, but he was too small to have gone far. There was definitely no trace of the boy.

  Philip checked the house once again, thinking it was improbable the boy would have entered it, but he needed to double-check all the same. It wasn’t as if the house was large either. There was nowhere to hide in the kitchen area, nor the living room. The bathroom was just a bathroom, and he had already looked in the bedrooms twice.

  He ventured back down into the garage for one final look. Satisfied the cellar was empty, he made sure the trapdoor was completely covered with the old sacks. It was now time to look a little further afield. He would head for the fields to see if he could find any trace of the boy. Philip headed for the drive, keeping his head down while checking for any telltale footprints. His brain was racing; he needed to find the boy—and fast. If he wasn’t in the fields or orchard, he would search out the hilltop. Time had passed since he had killed and disposed of Roger, and since no one had come by accusing him of abducting the boy, he was hoping he had met with a nice little accident. It was easy to fall into a crevice in these parts. He had to be nearby.

  *****

  The women reached the top of the hill in a state of near collapse. Overall, the
y had covered the remaining hill climb in less than twenty-five minutes, and looking back, they agreed what a tough ascent it had been. Under different circumstances, they would have felt proud of their achievement. Worry gave an added impetus to Diana’s footsteps. She had to get help for Clare: she made light of her ankle injury but was clearly in some pain. They staggered the last few metres into the garden of Philip Bolton’s house. Despite Clare’s plucky ascent up the hill, her ankle was twisted, and she was exhausted. Adam needed to get her home fast.

  It was the first time Diana had visited Philip’s property, and she looked round to get her bearings. Previous sightings were from the road or when she and Steve had walked on the land nearby. The garden was still under about a foot of snow. The topography wasn’t at all smooth; various lumps and bumps were all around, and she guessed they were the usual strewn rocks typical of the Cypriot landscape.

  On a whim, Diana fished her phone from her pocket and tried to make a call one more time. “Well, I’ve got power now—that’s something, but still no signal. Maybe it’s this hill after all.” She replaced the phone and turned towards Clare.

  “Come on, Clare, let’s go and try the house. I’m sure Philip Bolton will let us use his phone. Lean on me as much as you want to.” Putting her arm around Clare’s waist, Diana indicated she should drape an arm around her shoulders. Together they cut across a smooth part of the garden and limped towards the building. Once they were clear of the deep snow, they moved onto what seemed to be a level path going around the side of the house. To their right stood a stone outbuilding, which had a tiled roof patched with sheets of corrugated metal. Outside the building, under the melting snow, there appeared to be a collection of twisted metal, odd bits of wood and the usual clay pitharia.

  “There’s the door. Come on, it’s not far to go now. I promise you that you’ll soon be sitting down in a nice warm room,” Diana said, smiling at Clare who by now was in real pain.

  “Can I help?” a gruff voice called from the right. Startled, both women looked towards the sound and saw a man walking towards them. “Are you in trouble? You seem…in a bit of a state”

  Diana recovered first upon recognising Philip. There was no mistaking his overweight frame or his long greasy salt-and-pepper-coloured hair. “Yes, yes you can. My friend has had an accident, and I need to use a telephone rather urgently. Mine has packed up you see…”

  Once he drew near, he peered closely at Diana. “Don’t I know you? It’s Diana Rivers isn’t it? The novelist?”

  Diana nodded. Her knees were still feeling weak and wobbly. “Yes, we’ve met in the village once or twice. This is Clare. She’s over here for the Christmas holiday.”

  He made no move to shake Clare’s hand as he turned his strange pale eyes towards her. His gaze slowly assessed her before replying. “Telephone you say? I’m sorry but I don’t possess a mobile.”

  “A landline, then?” Diana persisted, wondering why his eyes were so cold. Staring into them was like looking at a dead person. Unconsciously, she drew back; his body odour was rank.

  “No, there’s no landline working. There’s been a power failure, and it hasn’t come back on yet. Are you part of one of the search parties?”

  “Yes. But the power is back on now. Please, if you could just check. Clare has twisted her ankle and is in a lot of pain. She fell down the hill below your house.”

  He paused as if considering her words, his eyes darting nervously from one woman to the other. Diana noticed a line of sweat along his brow and thought it odd considering how cold it still was.

  “Please, we won’t be in your way. Once we’ve made our call, someone will pick us up and we’ll be out of your hair.”

  Philip licked his lips before glancing over his shoulder. The action seemed to help him come to a decision.

  “You’d better come in then.” He turned and led them towards the house. Clare and Diana gave each other a hasty glance before following. Diana pulled a face and Clare raised her eyebrows. Philip Bolton seemed decidedly odd and creepy with it.

  Chapter 31

  Bolton led them into the house. The ground floor was an open-plan area with a bit of a kitchen added in one corner. Apart from a sagging sofa and one armchair, the only other furniture of note in the room was a pine table and three chairs. Dirty cups and plates littered the single kitchen sink, and there were empty takeaway food cartons lying on the worktops. A bag of groceries was lying on the floor, the contents spilling over the beige-coloured tiles. Overall, the place exuded an oily and stale smell.

  The light inside the house was subdued because the curtains covering the windows were still drawn. Only the drapes over the French windows were pulled back. Diana noticed the doors overlooked the hills on the other side of the valley. The temperature seemed barely above freezing, and Diana shivered. There was something that disturbed her about the house. The quicker they made the call and got out, the better.

  “The phone’s upstairs, I’ll go and check,” Philip Bolton said. He looked round the room, his eyes darting from side to side and then suddenly seemed to remember his manners and swept some old newspapers off the sofa. “Please sit down.”

  He shuffled off towards the stairs, and Diana helped Clare down onto the lumpy old sofa.

  “This place is filthy, and what clapped-out old furniture,” Diana whispered as she wandered round the room. Her face was a picture of undisguised disgust. She sidestepped the bag of groceries, noticing an upturned bottle had exuded a little of its contents. She almost laughed when she realised it was a well-known proprietary brand of children’s bubble bath. Bolton used bubble bath despite his overall dirtiness! “I know I’m not the world’s best housekeeper but even so. We’ll leave as soon as we can. The best bit of kit in here is his set of binoculars. He obviously takes his birdwatching seriously, that’s an expensive pair of Steiners.” She gestured with her head towards the binoculars, which were lying on a chair by the doors, before sitting down gingerly on the grubby woollen throw next to Clare.

  “Actually, it’s odd, come to think of it. I would have expected him to—ow! What’s that?” she suddenly asked, snatching her hand away from the cushion. Looking down she noticed the corner of a hard-backed book protruding from between the cushion and the arm of the sofa. She pulled the book free and frowned. It was a cheap copy of the famous fairy tale, Hansel and Gretel, by the brothers Grimm. She was about to hold it up to show Clare and say something like, “Strange reading for a single man, don’t you think?” when she heard Philip Bolton’s footsteps coming back down the stairs. Pushing it back in place, she looked up at him expectantly.

  Shaking his head, he managed to convey a look of regret and apology towards the two women. “Sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t get anything on my phone. Maybe there’s a line down somewhere…you know how it is here. It could be ten minutes or ten hours before it’s working again.”

  Diana stood up. “Damn! Well thanks for trying anyway.” She paused as she had an idea. “If it’s no bother, I’ll just pop down the road and see whether I can get a signal on my mobile. There was no reading on it when we were down the hill, but there might be coverage further down your drive. Is it okay if Clare rests here for a minute?”

  She thought Philip looked slightly put out at her request, but he agreed.

  “I’ll be back as quick as I can, I’m sure my phone will work on the road. Okay, Clare? I promise I’ll be right back.”

  Before either could reply, Diana had opened the door and closed it behind her. A cold blast of wind hit her as she walked away from the house. Between the house and outbuildings, she had to pass near a structure that looked rather incongruous, and as she approached it, she saw the construction was that of a circular modern well. She thought it looked out of place next to the old stone buildings and vaguely wondered why it hadn’t been built in the traditional manner. Along the top of the wall was a piece of hinged wood which she assumed was a lid. It didn’t appear to be fixed in place, nor did it cover the
opening completely, and Diana thought how dangerous it would be if children or animals were in the vicinity. She was about to continue towards the drive when she paused. There was something not quite right it. Although some of the snow had melted since that morning, the amount of residual snow lying on the lid and along the wall was small compared to that on other surfaces. Looking closer she saw that the snow around the base of the wall had been trampled down and was dirty. Mildly puzzled, Diana went to carry on towards the gate when something caught her eye. Lying under the wood and just within sight was a shiny silver coin.

  Diana stopped and turning round, looked quickly back at the house. The door was as she had left it, and because of the drawn curtains, no one could see her from inside. Removing her gloves, she went to pick up the coin, only to discover that the lid was in the way. She gave the lid a gentle push, not appreciating that there was thick ice under it, and the momentum sent it careening to the ground. Peering down, she discovered that the coin was a two-pound piece, although the design was nothing she had seen before. Knowing that Roger had a small collection of English coins, she slipped it into her pocket, thinking that she would ask him about it the next time she saw him.

  Having knocked the cover to the ground, she knew she ought to replace it over the hole. A completely open well was really dangerous, and she knew some of the drops were over forty feet. Diana leant over the wall of the well and looked down into the depths below. She could see black water rushing past, and as her gaze travelled back up the stone walls she found herself staring at a scarf. It reminded her of one that was once bright yellow and identical to Rupert Bear’s.

  Only this scarf wasn’t quite so yellow. Horrified, she stared at the blood-soaked garment, which was caught and snagged on a piece of masonry. Roger! It was just like Roger’s scarf. But what was it doing in a well, and more to the point…why was it so bloody? And where was Roger?