by Pryke, Helen
Abandoned, I turned my attentions to my sisters. At first they cried. Then they saw the beauty of what we had, the pureness, the innocence, and together we took our comfort in each other. And when the bad thoughts became too much, the pressure building up in my head until I thought I would explode, there was the fire. The first time I did it, I felt cleansed, my soul once more pure enough for my little girls. As I ran the lit match along the underside of my arm, the acrid smell of burnt hair filled the room, closely followed by scorched flesh. I watched in wonder as my skin wrinkled, biting my lip to suffocate the scream in my throat, relishing the pain the flame brought. My mind at peace, my innocence restored, life could carry on, perfect in its pureness.
Until it all went wrong, and I had to use the fire to cleanse their bodies as well.
Mother was shocked when she saw what had happened and blamed me, but I know it wasn’t my fault. I was the oldest, and I should have known better, but it hadn’t been down to me. If they hadn’t been laughing at me, ganging up on me behind my back, keeping their dirty little secrets, I might not have done it…
* * *
So much responsibility. Mother relied on me to look after my sisters, and I took my duties seriously, but there was so much pressure on me. Too much. And now I’m responsible for them again, but this time it will be different. It has to be different. At least Mother can see that I’m doing it properly this time. I hope she’s proud of me sorting out Charlotte’s little problem, but I can’t be sure. I can never be sure as far as she’s concerned.
I thought it would be easier this time around. I’m older, more experienced, I’ve reflected on my past mistakes and know how to avoid them now. But I’m still responsible for the girls. Responsible for finding them a home, away from nosy neighbours, responsible for finding a job every time we move and earning money so I can feed them, responsible for not having an accident and getting home every day so I can release them from the room I’ve locked them in. Otherwise they’d end up starving to death; I’m always so careful to hide them that nobody would ever realise there are two girls in the house. If I don’t make it home, they would die before anyone would find them.
At least we won’t be moving anymore. I’m tired of the constant travelling, of never staying in one place, of new colleagues sticking their noses into my business. When the farmhouse came up on the rental site, I knew it was a sign. Right time, right place. The kind of house I’d promised Jane that first day she came to me. I’m going back to my roots, the area where I grew up, the place that holds so many memories for me. Home, where I’ll make new memories with my little girls.
Not that they deserve it. Charlie is so ungrateful. I do so much for her; I’ve given her a better life, no more school, a brand-new sister to share things with, yet she still continues to give me those hangdog looks. What does she have to complain about?
I grip the steering wheel more tightly, my knuckles white as I contemplate Charlie’s next punishment.
14
‘Are you sure you want to do this, Maggie?’ Roger leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. ‘It’s not going to cause you any problems?’
Maggie sat back, wary of his concern. Roger wasn’t renowned for his compassion, and she’d borne the brunt of his sharp tongue many times over the years.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she reassured him. ‘It might even help, you know, with the stress and everything.’
He picked up a pen and clicked it several times. ‘It’ll keep your mind off things, make you feel useful, is that it?’
Maggie clenched her fists and tried to ignore the clicking. ‘That’s right. And I get to go back to doing what I do best. It took a lot of hard work to build up my reputation, remember?’
‘Only too well.’ He put the pen down. ‘I remember when I first arrived, you were always eager to get cracking on your next case. Put the rest of us to shame, all those hours you put in.’
‘Yeah, well, I wanted to make a good impression.’ Maggie shook her head. ‘When I had to read autopsy reports, though, that’s when it really got to me. And after Thomas… I couldn’t do it anymore.’
‘I can imagine.’ Roger cleared his throat, his cheeks reddening.
Anything emotional made him embarrassed, Maggie knew. It was crunch time. Either he’d agree with her, or he’d give her the most boring assignment he could think of. Something even worse than revisiting locals’ so-called success stories, such as the forgettable ‘Arthur Brown’s Knobbly Prizewinning Potato’ and ‘Lily White’s Dream Led To Her True Love’. Her whole body was tense as she waited for his answer.
He steepled his hands and lightly tapped his forefingers against each other. ‘Okay. I’ll give you a week to get back to me with something I can use. Maybe you can write an article about the girls, jog people’s memories, see if anything comes up. What do you think?’
‘A week? Bloody hell, Roger, that’s hardly enough time to get started.’ She held his gaze, refusing to let him intimidate her.
He harrumphed. ‘That’s a lot longer than I want to give you. It’s a dead-end story, too much time has passed. Do you seriously think you’re going to find those girls when the police couldn’t? They’re not even searching for them anymore.’
‘I happen to think it’s worth pursuing.’ Maggie pursed her lips. ‘Two weeks, I need at least two weeks. If I can’t come up with anything, I guess it’ll be Megan Blackworth and her talking dog: Life after winning Woodstons’ talent show three years in a row.’
Roger glared at her. ‘That’s if you’re lucky. Dammit, Maggie, I hate it when you get a bee in your bonnet. All right. But be warned, if you don’t produce anything, I’ll make your life hell.’ He started clicking his pen again. ‘On the condition that, if you can’t deal with it, you speak to me. I don’t bite, you know.’
‘Not very often, anyway,’ Maggie replied, making him snort. ‘Thanks, Roger. I’ll keep you informed of any progress I make.’
‘Be sure to do that. I expect results. And Maggie…’ He sat back, frowning at her. ‘Go home and get some rest, you look like shit.’
‘Honest as always, thanks. But yes, I feel like shit, so I think I will.’ She stood and took her leave, grateful he’d given her the go-ahead. She’d have a couple of hours’ rest and then get cracking again.
* * *
Maggie groaned as she woke up, her mouth dry and her eyes sticky with sleep. Her head thumped, as if she’d drunk a whole bottle of vodka. But those days were long behind her. Now she was lucky if she could swallow a couple of mouthfuls of wine. She sat up, cursing as her body protested with loud cracks.
She glanced over at the papers still laid out where she’d left them, and grimaced. ‘Coffee first.’
Five minutes later, with caffeine coursing through her bloodstream, she started to feel more human. Perched on the edge of the sofa, she cradled her mug to warm her stiff fingers, and began to sift through the papers.
After a while, she sat back and chewed thoughtfully on the end of her pen. The date of the first article captured her attention. The third of June. The week after they’d found Thomas, this poor girl had been abducted. And two weeks later, a second girl disappeared. She vaguely remembered hearing about it on the news, but she’d been distraught with grief at the time and had hardly given the stories any attention.
As Mike and Chloe had said, her paper, The Southern Recorder, had kept Jane and Charlotte’s stories on the front page for the first few weeks. Instead, the national newspapers had mainly concentrated on Thomas, his story front-page news as shock and horror spread through the outraged nation. The girls had been relegated to short paragraphs inside, with grainy school photos. There were a few more articles during the following year, short follow-up paragraphs reminding people they were missing and to come forward with any information, and then they petered out.
The Southern Recorder had printed an interview with both mothers, dated about two months after the girls’ abduction, but since then there had only been sporad
ic mentions. Maggie skimmed through the articles, then one caught her eye and she picked it up to read it more carefully.
The name of a suspect. He was the caretaker at the school and had been the last person to see Charlotte. The police had taken him in for questioning, but he was later released due to lack of evidence. In the article he declared his innocence and insisted he’d seen a white car in the vicinity of the school, but no one could back up his claim.
Maggie frowned. She reread it twice more, waiting for something to click. The car, the caretaker insisting it was white – why was that important? She picked up the newspaper article on Jane’s abduction, and noticed the comment about the blue Mercedes driver having come forward. She slapped her head. Idiot! Maggie wondered if the caretaker had seen the car around before, outside the school.
She had to speak to him, but had no way of knowing where to find him. He might not even live in the area anymore. But she knew someone who could help.
* * *
She looked down at the phone in her hands, her heart thumping as she unblocked it and pressed on the contacts icon. Her thumb slowly scrolled down the list of names, until she reached Sally’s number. It would be a miracle if it still worked, after all this time. Her hand shook as she pressed the telephone symbol and it began ringing.
‘Hello, stranger.’ Sally’s voice was as warm as ever, and Maggie felt a wave of nostalgia hit her.
‘Hi. How are things?’ She was aware how stilted she sounded, but she didn’t know what to say.
‘All right.’ There was silence for a moment, then Sally added, ‘It’s been a long time. I miss you.’
‘Sally, I…’ Maggie’s voice caught in her throat.
‘It’s all right, Mags, honest. I’m pleased you phoned me, it’s lovely to hear from you after so long. How are you?’
‘Oh, you know. Four years older, a few more wrinkles and grey hairs, nothing changes. And you?’
‘Same.’ There was a longer pause. ‘So, is it business or pleasure?’
Sally had always been down to earth, Maggie remembered now. She smiled. ‘A bit of both. I know it’s been a while, I’d love to catch up. But first…’
‘I knew it!’ They both laughed nervously.
‘Do you remember Jane Simmons and Charlotte Hodgson? They were abducted just after Thomas died.’ Maggie forced the last words out with some difficulty.
‘Hmm, let me see.’ Maggie heard computer keys clacking. ‘Oh yes, Eric was working on the case. They never found them. Why? Have you got some info?’
‘Unfortunately, no. The brother and sister came to me and asked me to help them, so I’ve been reading through all the info I can find. And Joseph Cooper’s name came up, he was the school caretaker at the time. I need his contact details. Can you get them for me?’
‘Why do you need them?’
‘The reports say the police thought it was the same person who abducted both girls. It seems Joseph was the main suspect and was taken in for questioning, but the newspapers say he was never arrested. I’d really like to talk to him.’
‘Give me five minutes and I’ll get back to you.’
Maggie drummed her fingers impatiently on the wall as she waited, suddenly noticing little cracks in the paint she’d never been aware of before. The minutes ticked by, marked by her pacing up and down the narrow hallway, until the phone vibrated in her hand.
‘Sally?’
‘Sorry, it took me longer than I thought. I couldn’t find Eric, so I had to ask someone else…’
Maggie suppressed the urge to scream.
‘Anyway, I found what you wanted. Joseph Cooper, thirty-eight years of age, was the main suspect in the girls’ abduction, but they didn’t have anything concrete on him so had to let him go. They kept an eye on him for a while but he never did anything unusual, like buying tampons or towels, or women’s clothes. He was suspended from his job, and then sacked.’
‘That doesn’t seem fair, if he was innocent,’ Maggie said.
‘The parents didn’t want him anywhere near their kids, so the headmistress had to bow to pressure. He was given a warning to stay away from the school, and now works as a mechanic in a garage in Portsmouth. He lives in Fratton, moved there a couple of years ago. I can’t give you his home address, you know that, Mags. But I can give you his work address.’
‘Hold on while I make a note of it.’ Maggie balanced the phone between her chin and shoulder as she wrote down the information Sally gave her.
‘By the way, my colleague said Eric mentioned he was a bit of a strange one, he seemed out of things most of the time. He admitted he didn’t have any friends and spent most of his free time alone, and only gave them vague answers to their questions. That’s why they decided to trail him, see if he slipped up. Turned out he was just weird. Eric’s words, not mine.’
‘Okay. One last question.’ She heard Sally sigh and smiled.
‘Go on, then.’
‘Why did the police think the same person took both girls?’
‘Hold on.’ There was another long pause while Sally spoke to someone. ‘The investigating officers did door-to-door searches, spoke with known paedophiles in the area, and searched a few houses, but didn’t find anything. So, going on the fact that both girls were taken from the same school at home time two weeks apart, they had one common denominator that tied them together which made investigators think it was the same person. Friends, relatives, other students, and teachers were all questioned and eliminated from the investigation, no one else was flagged as a suspect, but unfortunately the trail had gone cold by the time they’d finished with Mr Cooper. I hope that helps.’
‘Yes, it does.’ Maggie scribbled everything down on her notepad. ‘Thanks, Sal, I owe you one.’
‘Anytime. Oh, and Mags…’
‘Yes?’
‘Promise you won’t be a stranger from now on. Even if it’s just to let me know how the investigation’s going. I’d like to stay in touch, if that’s okay with you.’
‘I’d like that too,’ Maggie said, her voice catching. ‘I miss you, Sal.’ She closed the phone call before she could hear the reply from the other end, afraid she’d get too emotional.
* * *
She had already arranged to meet the kids’ parents on Sunday and talk to them about her investigation; she would let Mike and Chloe know then what she had so far. Impatient to make a start, she was frustrated at having to wait so long but she knew it was better not to rush these things. She’d use the time to read up on the girls’ stories and do more research for her article. The fact that the girls’ bodies had never been found meant there was hope that they were still alive. And if they were, she would do her utmost to find them.
She felt the adrenaline pumping as she thought back to those awful days four years earlier. The police had never found Thomas’s killer, and she knew how soul-destroying it was not to be able to have that closure, that satisfaction, knowing the murderer was in jail. She vowed she would do everything she could to help these two families find out what had happened, even if it meant opening up old wounds once more.
15
Jane put her hands over her ears, trying to shut out the noise of Charlie’s screams down in the cellar. They knew the rules, the smallest sign of defiance would be punished. She couldn’t understand why Charlie didn’t just do as he said, it would make life so much easier for her.
She glared at the door, dreading the moment the screaming stopped, as that meant she would have to go down and tend to Charlie. She’d rather stay here in the living room, curled up next to him on the sofa, basking in the calm he emanated after every beating. She hated sharing him with Charlie and did everything she could to make sure he liked her best. It was never enough. Just like her family before, he took her for granted, and insisted that she and Charlie were both equally precious to him. Hah. So how come he beat Charlie more than her? Deep down, she knew she was his favourite, and the feeling filled her with warmth.
She placed her
hand on her stomach, palm down, fingers spread wide, feeling the bump there, and smiled to herself. Charlie had been stupid enough to tell her she was pregnant; she wouldn’t make the same mistake. She might have kept quiet about Charlie, but when she’d suggested calling the brat Chloe, with that oh-so-smug look on her face, a black rage had taken hold of her. Jane couldn’t believe Charlie had taken advantage of that one moment of weakness when she’d told her about how it had been before, at her old home. She had made sure Charlie wouldn’t do anything like that again, although to tell the truth, she’d been shocked by the violence of his reaction. After all, it had been his fault. He’d always been so careful up till now, ensuring nothing would upset the ‘delicate equilibrium’ of their family, but lately he’d been distant, his mind on other things. He’d been careless, both with Charlie and with her. She wondered what he would do to her if he knew. She didn’t want to find out.
She jumped as he appeared at the doorway, panting heavily, and wiped sweat from his forehead. ‘I swear you two girls are more trouble than you’re worth,’ he shouted, dropping the leather belt on the floor.
Jane saw there were specks of blood on the metal buckle. Fear crept over her as she frantically tried to think of a way to soothe him.
‘Don’t start crying, or you’ll be next,’ he warned.
‘Of course not.’ Jane was too scared to cry; he had that effect on her when he was in this kind of mood.
