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

by Faith Mortimer

  As soon as he started up the stairs, Debbie grabbed her keys lying on the hall table and ran out the back door towards the cars standing under the trees. Within seconds, she was behind the wheel, and the car lurched down the drive. It was difficult to see through the windscreen because the snow and sleet had formed a thick ice crust on the glass, and the sun had never reached it that day. Debbie turned the heater up as high as it would go and opened her side window. She slowed the car down as she glanced outside and flicked the windscreen wipers on. Slowly the ice began to disappear, and she picked up speed in response. Within a couple of minutes, she began the drive up the steep incline. Once she hit the accelerator, the front wheels skidded, throwing the car round on the icy road. In panic, Debbie jammed on the brake, and the car spun right round. As she let out a frightened cry and tried to right it, she realised she was too late. A stone wall loomed ahead. She managed to turn the wheel, but the car’s momentum still carried it forward, and with a crash it hit the wall.

  Debbie was thrown against the steering wheel and then snapped back. The air bag expanded, pinioning her to the seat. Shaken and bruised, she squeezed the bag to one side, opened her door and scrambled out onto snowy verge. She barely paused to take in the damage to the front of the car. Instead, she tried to run up the slippery hill towards the driveway. Debbie slipped and fell, falling down onto her right side. Ignoring the jarring pain in her hip, she ran towards the house. All the time she kept saying to herself, ‘Please don’t let me be too late.’ She remembered back six years, when she identified the bodies of Sally and Stuart. Their faces were still covered in mud, ugly dark brown ligature marks around their necks from where they had been strangled with their scarves. Please, dear God, please!

  She heard a shout in the distance but ignored it. Instead she carried on up the drive until she reached the grounds of the house. She hadn’t realised before how high the house stood on the hill. If only she had thought about it earlier. She could see her own house quite clearly; it was perfectly positioned for someone to watch her activities. Rounding the corner of a barn-like building, she stopped. The front door to the house stood ajar. Slowly she walked towards it and pushed it open a few more inches.

  Pausing on the threshold, Debbie noted how gloomy the downstairs floor was. From her spot, she saw it was lit only by a weak light coming from the door that was ajar and through the slightly parted curtains. Her breath was coming in gasps which she fought to control. Her heart was pounding, and she felt light-headed. A smell like fatty rancid oil hit her…and something else. Charlie and Hannah had to be here. But what if she was too late? She would die if it was like last time. She could still see their little faces, bruised and bloated in death. She was all they had, they trusted her. She remembered Sally crying that last morning when she was feeling unwell. “Daddy hurt me,” she said. Claude had told Debbie that Sally had been naughty…he was always strict with them, and she blamed herself for feeling tired as usual. She didn’t dare criticise Claude’s discipline, but somehow believed Stuart when he told her Sally hadn’t misbehaved at all.

  As she was about to enter, she heard a soft cry behind her and faltered. Half turning, she saw Diana racing towards her.

  *****

  “Wait! Debbie, don’t go in there,” she wheezed.

  “I must…Charlie and Hannah…”

  “Charlie’s safe! I found him, and he’s with the others, my friends. He’s okay, Debbie.”

  Debbie swayed at her words. “Charlie’s safe? And…Hannah? What about Hannah?” she whispered.

  Having reached her, Diana placed a hand on her arm. “I don’t know. If she’s…if she’s alive, I think she’s here somewhere. Charlie said Philip Bolton separated them.”

  “Bolton! That’s not his real name, the bastard. If he’s hurt my children, like he did last time, I swear I’ll kill him myself.”

  “I know it’s not. But Debbie, we’ve got to go carefully. He’s so dangerous and Clare is inside. I don’t want to jeopardise her life too. Why not wait for Adam Lovell to arrive? He’ll be here any minute with reinforcements.”

  Debbie’s face was full of agony as she listened to Diana’s words. “I can’t. Last time I made a dreadful mistake trusting someone, and I can’t let that happen again. I’m going in.”

  “Then I’m coming with you.” Diana reached down towards the pile of logs lying by the door and selected a hefty one. “Armed and dangerous, I’m right behind you,” she said giving her a reassuring smile, even if she felt anything but. Her heart was thumping so hard in her chest, she thought Debbie could hear it. She fought against the feeling of dread, pushing aside the rising nausea. Never had she been so terrified.

  Both women took deep breaths, and Debbie pushed the door wide open. At first they could see no one in the dismal room, and then as Diana pushed past Debbie, she gave a gasp. Clare was in the same position as when Diana had left her, only this time she was tied and gagged. After taking a quick look round the room to ensure Bolton wasn’t about to leap out on them, Diana rushed over to her. Clare was slumped over on one side, her head slick with blood.

  “Oh no, Clare!” Diana felt sick inside with despair, praying that Clare wasn’t dead. She should never have left her alone with this sick bastard.

  She ripped the tape from around her mouth to give her air and then reached for her wrist. She was rewarded by a weak, thready pulse.

  “Is she…is she alive?” Debbie asked in a hushed voice.

  Diana nodded. “Just. I can feel a faint pulse.” She gently pressed on Clare’s chest to try and rouse her before untying her wrists. “Clare. Clare can you hear me?” As she did so, she noticed a wad of cotton wool lying just under her jacket. Diana pulled it out and sniffed it. A sweet sickly smell wafted under her nose. Chloroform! It reminded her of her grandmother’s house when she used to get out the Thawpit jar to clean her grandfather’s jackets. Diana immediately leapt away from Clare and opened the door wide to let in more fresh air.

  She was so concerned over Clare’s condition that she failed to notice Debbie climbing the stairs. Diana tried to rouse Clare once again and sighed with relief when her eyelids fluttered.

  “Di,” she whispered. “Sorry, but he guessed we were on to him. He caught me with his binoculars. I wanted to know how much you could see of Debbie’s house, and he must have put two and two together. He yelled at me, and then he…he hit me with a poker. You have to tell the others that he’s not really Philip Bolton, he’s James and—” She tried to move and groaned in pain.

  “Hush, stay where you are, you’ve lost a lot of blood. It’s my fault…I should never have left you, and now you’re hurt. And I’m sure Philip Bolton is not James.”

  “That’s bloody rot. You had to phone for help. Did you…did you get through? What do you mean, not James?

  “Yes, I got through, they’re on their way, and guess what? I found the little boy, Charlie. He’s safe and down the road with the hashers.”

  Clare managed a faint smile before she once more slipped into unconsciousness. Diana noted with alarm that her wound was bleeding copiously and hastily untied her silk scarf from around her neck and knotted it round Clare’s head. She knew she couldn’t do anymore until help arrived, and with this thought in mind, she looked round for Debbie.

  *****

  Debbie ran up the stairs, not making any noise on the tiled surface. At the top, she hesitated, wondering which room to look in first. She turned left and walked to the first door. She pushed the door wide open and looked towards the overweight bulky figure with its back to her. Stepping to one side, she saw he was holding a small struggling figure on the bed with one hand, giggling as with the other he withdrew a scarf from his pocket and began to wind it around the dark-haired girl’s neck.

  Debbie found herself staring at a pair of terrified eyes, at Hannah’s unruly hair; the petrified little girl had soiled herself, and the stench reached Diana’s nostrils.

  “Let her go!”

  The man spra
ng away from the bed and spun round. His eyes were crazed, burning with an unholy and evil desire. The obese mass of flesh stood upright. Debbie had an impression of Hannah’s scarf tight around her neck, of her daughter lying helplessly on the bed, half a gingerbread man lying squashed next to her.

  She watched as the look of bemusement was replaced by an ugly sneer. “You!” She almost fainted; it was the voice she remembered. The voice she had tried to forget for six years. He lurched threateningly towards her. Debbie knew she had to move and rescue her daughter. She had to somehow get to her before she choked.

  He lunged for her, and she darted to one side, feeling his heavy grasp on her arm. Debbie screamed, and together they fell against the doorframe before falling to the floor. She felt a blow to her head and tasted blood as she bit through her bottom lip. The pain was blinding, and on instinct, she lashed out with her knee into his crotch. His face distorted in agony, and for an instant, his grip relaxed. She shrank away when his face came close to hers…it was fat and an unhealthy, doughy colour, nothing like it had been six years ago. Then, he was trim and fit, handsome even. To think she once loved him! His features were now puffy and thickened, but his smell was the same…

  Summoning up her courage, she lunged forward and tried to headbutt him. With a howl of rage, he lashed out, punching against the side of her face. She moaned, but managed to roll away from him towards the bed. She scrambled upright and threw herself towards Hannah, her fingers desperate to loosen the scarf. Once she heard her daughter’s gasping breath, Debbie twisted round to meet a new attack. He grabbed her arms, and she felt sickened by the close proximity of his exposed body.

  With a savage grunt, he sent her sprawling across the room, and she landed dazed and shocked, her mouth a bloody mess, tears of pain and terror rolling down her face. As she lay there helpless and bemused, he bent over Hannah and picked her up. Debbie screamed. With the child under one arm, he spun round and grabbed Debbie by the throat. She felt herself sinking into black unconsciousness as his fingers pressed into her windpipe, when abruptly his hand loosened its pressure. She heard herself choking, and someone yelling her name. Diana! She tried to respond but could only croak.

  *****

  Once Diana realised Debbie was missing, she knew she had to get to her before he did. She heard bumps and thuds above her head and then Debbie’s scream. Without thinking, Diana leapt up, grabbed the log she had picked up earlier and sprinted for the stairs. Within seconds, she had taken in the violent scene before her, Debbie’s red face, and his hand throttling her life from her. She raised the log and sent it crashing down upon his head.

  In one fluid movement, he reared up and turned, roaring with rage. She saw one large hand form into a fist which she couldn’t avoid as it caught her on the shoulder. Diana staggered from the blow; she saw blood streaming from where she hit him and went to raise her weapon again. He kicked her legs from under her, and as Diana fell to the floor, she saw him grab Hannah round the waist and make for the door.

  Diana heard him thundering down the stairs. She jumped up and pulled Debbie into a sitting position. “We’ve got to go after him,” she cried.

  Debbie nodded and tried to respond, but her voice was raspy. “He mustn’t get away.” Both women stood up. Debbie looked dizzy, and Diana grasped her arm before pulling her from the room. They moved down the stairs as fast as they dared and went outside. Diana heard a plaintive shriek and saw with horror, that he had uncovered the well and was holding Hannah against him as he rested by the wall.

  “Put her down, Claude,” Diana panted. Out of the corner of her eye she detected movement just beyond the perimeter wall and hoped against hope that it was Steve and Adam. She trusted them above anyone else. “I said put her down. It’s all over. The police are here, and you can’t get away.”

  From where she stood, she could hear his harsh breathing, the high-pitched sound that was more like a giggle. “Stop lying to me, woman,” he said. “I see no police.” She took a tentative step towards him and felt Debbie by her side.

  “Claude, don’t do it. Please, Claude, get off there,” Debbie croaked, while holding a hand to her throat.

  Diana saw another vague movement off to her side but didn’t dare take her eyes off Claude and Hannah. By now, he was perched completely on the wall. In horror, she remembered how deep the drop was below. If he dropped Hannah, she would never survive.

  “Bolton. We’ve got you covered. Put the child down and move away from the well,” Adam’s deep voice sounded across the space between them. Diana’s eyes involuntarily swivelled towards the sound and saw Adam, William and Steve poised to run and intervene about forty feet away. The distance is too great, she thought in a panic. They would never get to Hannah in time. She risked another step towards Claude, feeling Debbie almost glued to her side.

  They were barely ten feet away from him. Diana glanced across at Debbie and blinked three times. On a silent count of three, they leapt towards him.

  Diana tried to grab his leg, but he kicked her savagely in the chest. She felt the thick sole of his boot in her hands and almost stumbled from the force. Ignoring the pain, she yelled, “Claude, give her to me.”

  While Diana was fighting her own battle, Debbie had sprung towards her daughter. “Claude, please don’t. I’ll help you. You’re sick. Please stop.” Hannah was screaming in his arms. Her frightened wail was torn from her lungs. “Mummy!”

  Diana clawed at Claude’s jacket as she got a firm grip on him. “Please stop.”

  Claude roared with frustration as both women hindered his plan. Hannah was still held tight within his grasp. He roar ended abruptly when he burst out with a fresh giggle and let his legs dangle over the well. He sat Hannah up, next to him and held her with one hand. “Don’t come any nearer, little girl,” he said to Debbie. “I’ll drop her over if you do. Tell everyone to go away. No one is to touch me.”

  “Claude. I’ll help you. Give her to me, please.” Debbie held her hands palm up to him.

  He laughed a dry mirthless laugh. “You won’t help. No, you’ll want them to kill me.”

  “No…no, I don’t. I really want to help.” Debbie stretched out a hand, deliberately keeping her voice calm and soothing. She took another step towards the well, and sobbing in terror, Hannah reached her little arms out to her.

  Claude shifted his weight, and as he did, some of the upper stones of the well wobbled. He let go of Hannah as he quickly placed his hands down, searching for support. Debbie darted the last few feet forward, and catching hold of Hannah, snatched her from the wall into William’s arms. Diana grabbed at Claude’s jacket, the same time as Adam and Steve dived towards him.

  Chapter 34

  The fire blazed in the stove; a warm, pine-scented smell filled the room, mingled with the fresh coffee aroma.

  Diana recalled the little scene they had left earlier. A tear-stained, but elated Debbie was sitting on the settee, holding both children to her. Sitting one either side, she hugged her arms protectively around them. Hannah was fast asleep, her cold causing her to snore. Charlie was now calm after he first told Adam and then the police everything he remembered.

  He had said in a tiny little voice how, ‘That nice man who brings us eggs tried to help me. The nasty man hit him with an axe, and I hid in the big pot. It was freezing and dark and slimy inside, but I was afraid if I made a noise the man would do the same to me. I’m sorry, Mummy, but I wet myself.’ He looked distraught over his accident.

  Diana looked from mother to son. Debbie’s face was bruised and battered from her beating and her lip swollen from where she had bitten through it. Charlie had a nasty bruise on his forehead, but otherwise he looked physically unscathed. Luckily, Hannah was untouched. William was gazing at both his wife and children with a mixture of adoration and love. A nervous tic, which Diana had never seen before was making his left eye jump. She could see he was having trouble keeping his emotions under control. Even though the family was safely back together, Dian
a knew the tears they had shed earlier would return for many days to come. It was time everyone went home and left the family to mend. They needed a while on their own before the media arrived. Diana touched her own bruises and winced. She was lucky; she escaped with nothing more severe, but it would be a few days before she felt herself again.

  Steve noticed her movement and suggested they leave Debbie and William alone. Diana caught his glance and smiled; he always knew what she was thinking.

  *****

  Diana shifted on her chair as Steve refilled her coffee cup. Adam was reclining on the sofa, with his arm casually draped around Clare. Despite the hospital wanting to keep Clare in for observation, she swore she was all right and would benefit better from a night in her ‘own’ bed. Steve’s mother and Poppy were safely tucked up in their rooms, completely worn out after the day’s events. Diana sighed. Gwen was so unlike her son, and she knew her visit was going to drive her completely mad. She meant well—apart from her meddling—and really only needed something to occupy her day. Her thoughts turned to Poppy. She seemed none the worse after spending the night with her friend. Diana had cuddled and squeezed her tightly on her return, silently vowing she would never let her out of her sight when she was playing in the garden. Perhaps Gwen would feel more useful as she got to know her granddaughter better. They seemed to have hit it off already.

  Adam looked thoughtful, and Diana knew he was going over the last few hours. He had recently received a courtesy telephone call from Inspector Christopopodoulou but hadn’t divulged anything yet. He also said nothing about Diana’s decision to leave Clare with Claude Brookes, but she knew she had it coming.

  “Thanks, darling,” she said to Steve. “Now come and sit down. You must be tired after today.”

  “Not as tired as you must be feeling. You look dreadful…high levels of adrenalin knock you flat when you come down.”

  “Thanks. Actually, now I’m home and I’ve seen Poppy, and knowing that the killer’s been caught, I don’t feel too bad.”