The Lost Girls: Maggie Turner Suspense Series book #1

by Pryke, Helen

  ‘Good.’ He sat down on the sofa, flexing his fingers. Jane saw his knuckles were bruised, and hoped he’d taken his anger out on the cellar walls.

  ‘Come here.’

  She sat gingerly on the edge of the armchair, holding her breath in trepidation, terrified she’d anger him in some way.

  ‘Charlie’s going to need your help,’ he said, stretching out his legs. ‘But there’s no rush. Let’s just enjoy the peace and quiet for a while. What do you think?’

  Jane started to relax, reassured by his words. Of course he preferred her. Why did she let her insecurities take over? She cast aside her dark thoughts, and moved to sit next to him. ‘Charlie can wait.’

  * * *

  ‘Charlie? Wake up.’ Jane gave the girl’s shoulder a shove, and was relieved to hear her groan. For a moment there, she thought she was… and how would she have explained that to him? He would have blamed her, and however much she hated Charlie, she hated his punishments even more.

  ‘Jane? Wh-where am I?’ Charlie lifted her head, lines from the stone floor imprinted on her cheek. Smudges of dirt gave her face an alien look in the weak light of the bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

  Jane grimaced. ‘We’re in the cellar of the new place, remember? If you hadn’t been so stupid, we could be in our bedrooms by now.’ The air was damp and it smelled musty down there. She was sure she could hear mice scurrying around in the darkness of the far corners.

  ‘The new place?’ Charlie’s voice was trembling, whether from cold or pain, Jane couldn’t work out. Probably shock more than anything. ‘There’s a cellar?’

  Jane sighed. How hard had he beaten her? ‘Don’t you remember the photos he showed us? We’re in an old farmhouse out in the sticks, somewhere in the Peak District. It needs a lot of work, that’s why the rent’s so cheap. But there’s no nosy neighbours, which means we’ll be able to go outside, maybe.’

  ‘Outside?’ Charlie swayed as she struggled to sit up. ‘We could…’ She stopped, and glanced at Jane.

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ Jane warned. ‘Where would we go? We’ve no idea where we are or who to go to. And I won’t let you.’

  ‘Thought you’d be glad to see the back of me.’ Charlie’s eyes glistened with tears as she rubbed the cuts and bruises on her arms and legs.

  ‘I would, but I’d be the one left behind to face his wrath,’ Jane said wryly. ‘Besides, who would I boss about if you’re not here?’

  ‘I hate you,’ Charlie retorted and promptly burst into tears.

  ‘Oh, good grief, what’s wrong now?’ Jane snapped. She’d had enough of Charlie and her emotional outbursts. She wrinkled her nose, disgusted, as Charlie wiped some snot on her sleeve.

  ‘I don’t know, what could be wrong?’ Charlie shouted, startling Jane. ‘I’ve just been beaten to within an inch of my life, you’re sitting there no help at all, and you…’ She took several deep breaths, trying to regain control of herself. ‘You told him about the baby, and now I’ve got nothing, and I’ll never forgive you for that. It was my chance to have something of my own here, something to live for. And you took that away.’

  16

  Maggie sat perched on the edge of the sofa while Mrs Hodgson clattered around in the kitchen, china cups clinking as she prepared the tea. The floral pattern of the fabric clashed with the striped wallpaper but the overall effect, together with framed photographs dotted around the walls and on the furniture, was of homely comfort. Maggie thought of her own flat with its stark white walls, and made a mental note to add a splash of colour to her place.

  Carol Hodgson’s welcoming hospitality was a relief after the meeting she’d had with Jane’s parents. Maggie had read the brief interviews the couple had given four years earlier, but hadn’t known what to expect when she knocked on the Simmons’ door.

  ‘Come in, come in.’ Anne Simmons was average height and thin, with carefully styled black hair framing her pallid face.

  Maggie had followed her along the hallway to the kitchen, taking in the worn brown carpet and wallpaper.

  ‘I’ll just stick the kettle on. Erm, tea or coffee?’

  ‘Coffee’s fine, thanks.’ Maggie looked around, and noticed the photos stuck to the fridge door of two girls sat outside on the grass. Chloe was beaming up at the camera, her face alight with joy, while Jane stared sullenly in the distance. Maggie noted the tension in Jane’s body, her shoulders pulling away from her sister so they didn’t touch.

  ‘We took those out in the garden the summer before she… you know.’ Anne jerked her head at the fridge. ‘Couldn’t get her to smile in one bloody photo, no matter how much we nagged her.’ Her shoulders sagged. ‘Wish she was here to take more, we wouldn’t nag her at all.’ She shook her head and turned to take two mugs out of the cupboard with a loud sniff.

  Maggie waited patiently as Anne made the coffees, the spoon clinking against the sides of the mugs as she stirred, her hands trembling slightly. She repeatedly picked up her cigarette and took a long drag before replacing it on the edge of the ashtray, all the while stirring, until Maggie stepped forward and took her mug with a smile.

  ‘Sorry, I forgot what I was doing then for a moment. Come on, let’s go through to the living room. Brian’s in there.’

  Maggie found Brian, her husband, sitting in an uncomfortable-looking armchair with yellowing plastic on the arms. He grunted at her, and shot an annoyed glance at Anne.

  ‘None for me?’

  ‘Sorry, love, I forgot,’ she replied, flustered. ‘Here, have mine.’

  ‘Let’s hear what the journalist has to say,’ he said, flapping his hands.

  ‘As you know, I’m here because Chloe asked me to help look into Jane’s disappearance,’ Maggie began.

  Anne burst into tears, coffee slopping over the side of her mug. Brian leaned forward and tossed a packet of tissues to his wife.

  ‘Don’t mind her, she’s always doing that whenever anyone mentions Jane’s name. Go on.’ Despite his terse words, the tense set of his jaw and the pained look in his eyes revealed the grief Maggie knew he must be feeling inside, a grief she understood only too well.

  The conversation had been short and awkward, but she’d obtained their permission to carry out the investigation. Until she’d mentioned Chloe’s involvement.

  ‘No, absolutely not.’ Brian struggled to his feet from the sagging armchair and glared at her. ‘Do what you have to do, but my daughter isn’t going to help. And you can keep quiet too,’ he’d added as Anne opened her mouth to speak.

  Maggie had ended things there, shaken his hand and thanked him, then taken her mug through to the kitchen. To her surprise, the woman had grabbed her arm and leaned in close to her.

  ‘Do whatever you have to do to get our Jane back,’ she’d whispered, her gaze flicking to the door and back to Maggie. ‘If you need Chloe’s help, I’m okay with that.’ She nodded frantically, before pulling away and taking the mug. ‘Whatever you need to do,’ she insisted, tears glistening in her eyes once more.

  Maggie had heaved a sigh of relief when she stepped out of the front door, thankful to get away from Anne’s sobbing and Brian’s gruff demeanour. The suffering in the house had been tangible, and she wondered how Chloe coped with it all.

  ‘Here we go.’ Mrs Hodgson bustled back into the room, carrying a tray with two china cups and saucers, and a plate of biscuits.

  Maggie pulled herself out of her reverie and turned her attention to the woman. ‘Oh, you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble, Mrs Hodgson. This looks lovely.’

  ‘No trouble at all,’ she replied. ‘And please, call me Carol.’

  ‘Thank you, Carol.’ Maggie took the offered cup.

  ‘I’m sorry my husband’s not here. He doesn’t like to talk about Charlotte, so he’s taken Luna, our dog, for a walk. I hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Maggie reassured her.

  Carol sat down opposite her in an armchair and picked up the other cup. �
�To tell you the truth, I was in two minds whether to see you or not.’ She blew gently across the rim before taking a tentative sip. ‘We had so many reporters at the beginning, and then they all disappeared when it became obvious the police weren’t going to find Charlotte or the other girl. We’d get the odd phone call, journalists wanting statements, or wanting us ranting against the police or such, but we soon put a stop to them. We wanted to be left in peace, and that’s what happened. But they never found our girls, or the person who took them…’ Her voice broke and a tear ran down her cheek.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Carol.’ Maggie handed her the box of tissues on the coffee table. The woman took one and blew her nose. ‘Unfortunately, when a case goes cold, the media loses interest. If they can’t get anything scandalous, they move on to the next one. I remember your story when it broke, but I was going through a bad period back then…’ She paused.

  ‘Go on.’ Carol’s eyes were almost pleading with her to share her story, to show her that she wasn’t the only one suffering.

  ‘My nephew’s body was found a week before Jane, the first girl, was taken. He’d been dead for at least twelve hours.’

  ‘Oh my goodness.’ Carol’s hand flew to her mouth, her grief plain to see. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Maggie hesitated. Should she tell her the whole story? She decided not to add to the woman’s worries. ‘That’s why, when Mike and Chloe came to see me the other day, I decided to help them. I’m – I was – an investigative journalist until Thomas… until a few years ago. I spoke with my boss and he agreed it would be a good idea to investigate, if you’re agreeable, of course. I’d like to write an article, maybe update Charlotte’s photos to how she would look now, get the public interested again. You never know, someone might have seen her.’

  ‘Do you really think so?’ Carol looked doubtful. ‘How can someone be taken without anyone seeing anything all this time? In this day and age, with all the CCTV and social media. Ed, my husband, thinks she’s dead and they never found her body.’

  ‘What do you think, Carol?’ Maggie leaned forward, watching the woman’s face.

  There were a few moments of silence. ‘I think she’s alive,’ she whispered.

  * * *

  The front door opened with a crash and then slammed shut. Heavy footsteps stomped down the hall and Mike’s lanky frame appeared at the living room door.

  ‘Oh, you’re back, Mikey,’ Carol said. ‘Your friend Maggie’s here.’

  ‘I can see that. Give me a moment, Mum, I’m starving.’ He threw his keys on the hall table with a clatter and headed towards the kitchen.

  Carol shrugged. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘That’s okay. Teenagers, huh?’ Maggie rolled her eyes and they both burst out laughing. ‘I was the same at his age, if I remember rightly.’ Maggie picked up her bag and put her notebook away. ‘Well, I’ve made a few notes so I can start writing my article. I’ve been in touch with a colleague of the police officer who oversaw the case, she’s been a big help.’ She touched Carol’s arm. ‘I’ll run the article by you before it’s printed. If there’s anything you’re not comfortable with, just let me know.’

  Carol’s mouth twisted into a rueful smile. ‘A journalist with a heart… that’s not something you see every day.’

  ‘Our experiences aren’t too different, Carol. I know what you’ve been through, what you’re still going through.’

  ‘Thanks, Maggie.’ Carol hesitated. ‘Do you really think it will help?’ she whispered, as if afraid to voice her thoughts.

  ‘I hope so. I really hope so. Mike had a good idea, coming to me.’ Maggie stood. ‘I’ll go and say hello, then be on my way.’

  ‘Go ahead.’ Carol began putting the cups on the tray while Maggie went down the hall to the kitchen.

  ‘All right, Maggie?’ Mike said, his mouth full of sandwich.

  ‘I had a chat with your mum, she said I can write the article.’

  ‘Told you she’d be okay with it.’ He picked up a few crumbs he’d spat on the counter, and made a face. ‘Oops.’

  ‘I spoke with a friend yesterday. She gave me an address for Joseph, the caretaker at your school who saw Charlotte the day she was abducted. I thought I could go and talk to him, see if he can remember anything.’

  ‘He told the police everything he knew,’ Carol said, entering the kitchen with the tray. ‘I think you’re clutching at straws there.’

  ‘Ah, but sometimes just going over the past can bring back memories you never knew you had,’ Maggie replied. ‘It’s worth a try, don’t you think?’

  ‘You’re the expert,’ Carol said, but Maggie thought she didn’t look too convinced.

  ‘Sure it is. So, when are we going?’ Mike put down the rest of his sandwich and waited.

  ‘We?’

  ‘Mikey, I don’t know about that…’ Carol began.

  ‘Mum, it was my idea to speak to Maggie, I want to help too.’

  Maggie saw the look on Carol’s face and shook her head. ‘It’s best I go alone, Mike.’

  ‘But Joe knows me, he might be more willing to talk if me and Chloe are there.’

  ‘Both of you?’ Carol blurted.

  ‘They’re our sisters, it’s only right.’

  ‘No.’ Carol slammed the tray down on the countertop, the cups rattling as she glared at her son. ‘No way. I agreed to speak to Maggie, after you told me you’d been to see her behind my back. But there’s no way you’re getting involved in all this. I’ve already lost Charlotte, I won’t lose you as well.’

  Mike looked at Maggie, desperate.

  ‘No, Mike. If your mum says no, then we’ll respect her wishes. I’ll keep you informed, okay?’

  ‘Thank you,’ Carol said, her face returning to its normal colour.

  ‘She’s only going to speak to someone, it’s hardly a matter of life or death,’ Mike yelled, and stormed out of the kitchen. The two women looked at each other as he stomped up the stairs.

  ‘Sorry, Maggie.’

  ‘That’s quite all right, Carol. I understand, and Mike will too, eventually.’ Maggie sighed inwardly. Mike had been right about one thing; it might have been easier to speak to Joe if he and Chloe were there too. But a promise was a promise.

  17

  Mother is constantly on my back now, telling me how bad I am, that she always knew there was something rotten inside me. I try to tell her it isn’t my fault, that she made me like this, that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, but she silences me with a glare.

  I vow to be stronger, I can’t let her win. Not now I have Jane and Charlotte back. I need them, just like they need me. We have no use for Mother; she drains my energy and fills me with hate, always taking, never giving. I won’t let her meddle anymore. She won’t contaminate them again, like she did before, turning them into mini versions of her. No more whoring, no more mistakes. This time I’ll be more careful.

  This time, there are no interfering doctors restraining me, pumping me with those drugs that make it impossible for me to think and stop me from doing what I have to do.

  This time, I can destroy her and cleanse our bodies at the same time.

  I’ve seen the future. There’ll be fear and pain, but then there’ll be salvation. And sweet, blissful nothingness.

  18

  Maggie’s gaze followed the two teenagers as they approached her table. The café was quiet at this time of day, only a couple of other tables were occupied.

  ‘Hi, Mike, Chloe,’ she said as they sat down. ‘Thanks for coming.’ She felt uncomfortable doing this, but it was the only way. The day before she’d gone to the garage where Joe worked, hoping to speak to him, but she hadn’t got further than saying ‘Hello’ when he’d sprinted away from her, as if she were the devil. Another mechanic explained that Joe had a type of phobia when it came to journalists, he could sniff them out a mile away. He’d held out a greasy hand for her to shake, then burst out laughing as she hesitated. He was still laughing when she walked away, her cheeks
red. She’d known then that Mike and Chloe were her only chance of speaking to Joe.

  ‘Bit of a surprise when you called, thought you didn’t want us around.’ Mike slung his rucksack on the floor and slumped into a chair, knocking the table with his knee. Chloe sat down next to him, her movements a little more refined.

  Maggie winced. Teenagers were a lot different from how they’d been in her day, she was sure she hadn’t been so slouchy. ‘Well, it’s like this. I know your mum said you weren’t to get involved, Mike, but I really need you. Joe refuses to speak to me.’

  ‘But you said…’

  Maggie held her hands up. ‘I know. This isn’t an easy decision for me. The last thing I want is to go against your mum’s wishes, but I can’t see any other way.’ She didn’t mention she’d been up half the night wrestling with her conscience.

  Mike opened his mouth, but Chloe interrupted him. ‘Just tell us what we have to do.’

  ‘Really?’ Relief washed over Maggie. She could probably have reached Joe eventually, but a reluctant witness wouldn’t be any help to her. If the two teens could get him on side, it would make all the difference.

  ‘I won’t tell Mum if you won’t,’ Mike said. There were a few moments of awkward silence before he mumbled, ‘What do we have to do to get a drink around here?’

  Maggie glanced around and waved. A waitress came over, notepad in hand, and smiled at them.

  ‘Hi, I’ll have a coffee, please,’ Maggie said. ‘Chloe? Mike?’

  ‘I’ll have a Coke, thanks.’ Chloe glanced at the waitress and furtively swept a few crumbs from the table onto the floor.

  ‘I’ll have a coffee too,’ Mike added.

  The waitress jotted down their order and went over to the counter. A tall, thin woman in her sixties strode into the café. Dressed in brown, knee-length boots, a bright yellow anorak, and a detective-style felt hat with a brown speckled feather in it, she caught their attention right away.