by Clare Revell
“You want to come and stay with us?”
He shook his head. “Nah, we’ll be fine. It’s like camping. The only difference being it’s indoors and we don’t get wet or blown away. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He let himself into the house. “Hello?”
“In the kitchen,” Amy called.
He went in. The gas lamp glowed on the bench and the girls sat crouched around it doing homework. Amy stood by the hob, stirring something that smelled delicious.
Dane kissed the girls’ heads, and then crossed over to Amy. “How have they been?”
“Fine.”
“We are bored of the dark,” Jodie said.
“You are, are you?” Dane laughed. “I thought you liked candlelit meals.”
“Once in a blue moon, not three times a day. We want the lights and the TV back again. And don’t think we can’t see you hugging Amy from here, because we can.”
“I wasn’t,” Dane protested.
“Then why weren’t you hugging her?” Jodie looked at him. “We know you like her, Dad. It’s obvious.”
Vicky nodded.
“It is, is it?” Dane asked.
“Yes. So by all means hug her, but don’t do any of that kissy-kissy stuff, because that’s disgusting.”
Amy laughed.
Dane hugged her. “There, everyone happy now?”
“Yes,” Jodie said. “Dad, when are they fixing the lights?”
“Hopefully tomorrow. Jodie, we had a phone call from the school, from your English teacher.”
“Yeah. Mr. Page said he’d ring. Vianne and I went to see him at break. He’s been hanging around for a while.”
“I assume you mean the bloke you were running from yesterday, and not Mr. Page?”
She looked at him for a moment, and then nodded. “Yeah. He didn’t do anything; it’s just a little creepy having him hanging out there watching us.”
“Could you describe the bloke for me?”
“Sure. But we can go one better than that, can’t we, Amy?”
Amy pulled out her phone. “Sure can. I got the girls to pose outside the school gates before we left. The bloke you want is in the background.”
Dane hugged her and kissed her. “Amy, you’re brilliant.”
“I said don’t kiss her,” Jodie complained. “Ewww. That’s gross.”
Vicky grinned, signing the same thing.
Dane scowled.
Amy ignored her. “I do my best to be brilliant,” she said.
“Text it to me, please. I’ll forward it to Nate and my DI.”
Amy did so, and then turned off her phone. “The battery’s low. Need to keep what little charge there is for the school run tomorrow.”
Dane looked at the photo on his phone. First thing in the morning he was going to run a background check on Amy.
Nate was right. If it wasn’t either of them, then it had to be her.
Dane sat in front of the computer and scowled at it, almost as hard as he had frowned at his phone earlier that morning. Everything seemed to be conspiring against him.
“What’s up now?” Nate asked as he trawled through mug shots, trying to place their mystery school gate stalker. The police presence had at least scared him off for the time being.
“Either I’m not looking right, or there’s something wrong with the system.”
Nate scooted his chair across the carpet. “Why?”
“There is no record anywhere of an Amy Stabler.” Not born the year she claims she was anyway. Nor is there an on-line presence either.”
Nate tilted his head. “You’re not on a certain social media site either.”
“I have my reasons.”
“Amy must exist,” Nate said. “She’s at home with Vicky.”
“And Jodie.” Dane pulled out his phone and showed him the text. “The school has no power so they sent everyone home. I guess the power outage is spreading.”
“Where’s Vianne?”
“Amy dropped her off at the Doll hospital with Adeline. But by all means, feel free to double-check.”
“I will.” Nate pulled out his phone and dialed. “Maybe she lied about her birthday. You know how some women are with their ages.”
Dane tuned him out. There was nothing, and there should at least be something. He pulled up the main database. He didn’t want to do this, but he had no choice. Slowly he typed Amy’s name into the national database.
Nothing.
He leaned back in his chair, his hands falling to his lap. Stunned shock filled him.
“Dane?” Nate touched his arm. “What is it?”
“She doesn’t exist,” he said numbly. “No national insurance, no school records, banks, or anything. So who’s at home looking after my daughters?”
Nate picked up the phone. “I’ll call Ray Malone. She claims to know him, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So we ask him. I’ll put it on speaker so you can hear what he has to say. I’ll call his mobile rather than the landline.”
“Oh?”
Nate just looked at him. “When Jas died, you ignored the landline for weeks. You’d only answer your mobile because you knew it wasn’t going to be a reporter.”
“Good point.”
Amy carried the lunch dishes into the kitchen. They’d had a picnic in the study and now the girls were in the lounge. She grinned as Jodie jumped up in front of the kitchen window and pulled faces at her. Amy pulled one back and headed to the study for the rest of the dishes.
She brought them into the kitchen and put them by the sink. Turning on the taps, she squirted washing up liquid in and then picked up a plate. She glanced up and jumped, crying out in fright.
Mr. Scruffy filled the kitchen window. His twig hands rested on the glass, either side of his evil grinning pumpkin head. The plate fell from her hand and smashed on the tiled floor.
She sucked in a deep breath, turning her back on him, shaking hard. She stood there for a moment, before bending to pick up the pieces of broken china. “Jodie, that isn’t funny anymore,” she yelled.
Jodie appeared in the doorway leading to the hall. “What isn’t funny anymore? Oh, you broke a plate.”
Amy looked up. “Moving Mr. Scruffy isn’t funny. And leaning him against the kitchen window like that definitely isn’t. He scared me half to death.”
Jodie frowned. “I didn’t put him there.”
Amy raised her hands impersonating the scarecrow, right down to his evil grinning face. “He was like that, peering through the window when I came in with the dishes.”
“But I didn’t do it. And he isn’t there now, look.”
Amy looked over at the window. He wasn’t there. “He’s gone.”
Jodie grinned. “I reckon you’re seeing things.”
She shook her head. “I’m not seeing things. I’m telling you he was right against the window.”
“Then where is he?” Jodie pulled herself up onto the counter and peered through the glass. “I can’t see him.”
“Get down before you fall and end up in a sling, too. I have enough one-armed bandits in the house as it is.”
“OK.” Jodie turned and prepared to jump down. Her eyes widened, color drained from her face and she screamed.
Amy dropped the cup into the sink. “Now what?”
Jodie pointed behind her, still screaming.
Amy turned.
Mr. Scruffy stood right behind them, wind blowing through the open door, as he reached for her.
18
Dane sat, lacing his fingers and unlacing them, worry gnawing at his gut. Had he made a mistake hiring Amy? Had he made an even bigger mistake in falling for her? Had he let her bedazzle him and use her good looks to lure him into a false sense of security?
Nate hit the speaker button as the phone was answered. “Hello, Ray, it’s Nate Holmes from Headley Cross. How are you?”
“Not so bad.” Even to Dane, Pastor Ma
lone sounded depressed. He knew what it was like to lose your wife in such ugly circumstances.
“I’m really sorry to hear about Rosalie. How are you really doing?”
“It’s hard, but God’s giving me the grace to get through each day, albeit barely. And I have Sara. How are you and your family?”
“We’re doing OK. I’m sorry to bother you at a time like this, but I need your help.”
“If I can. What do you need?”
Nate looked over at Dane. “We’re trying to trace a woman called Amy Stabler. All our normal avenues of investigation have turned up nothing. She claims to know you and your wife. Actually, she said she was your wife’s best friend. According to Amy, she and Rosalie went to university together, roomed together whilst there, and when you and your wife married and moved to Filely, she moved with you, renting her own place not far from the manse. She was pretty upset when your wife died.”
“I’m sorry. Amy—who did you say?”
“Stabler. She’s twenty-seven. She has hazel eyes, long wavy red hair. She’s very pretty. Good with kids. She said she worked in the church crèche. I’m assuming that would be your church.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you. At least not in the way you’d like me to.” There was a long pause. “Amy’s dead.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Amy is dead. I never knew the woman you’ve just described, at least not by that name. Rosie’s best friend was Amy Childs. But she was blonde, although she always wanted red hair. She died several weeks ago. She was washed out to sea, they never found her body. Rosie was devastated. But Amy had been really down after the accident and the trial. We couldn’t help but wonder if it really was an accidental drowning or if she’d intended it.”
Dane frowned. “What trial?”
Nate looked at him. “Ray, I have you on speaker phone so my partner can hear you. His name is DS Philips. What trial?”
Dane’s stomach turned, and he swallowed the rising nausea. Whom had he employed? God, please overrule with this mess I have made. Help me put it right. Keep my kids safe.
Pastor Malone spoke again. “Amy did a U-turn, and hit a pedestrian. He wasn’t badly hurt, but the police got involved. She was arrested and charged with careless driving. She pleaded guilty and got a twelve month suspended sentence and a huge fine, which she paid. And she lost her license for a year as well. But it didn’t end there. There were a couple of fires at her place, death threats, silent phone calls, someone tried to kill her as well. Then she left her stuff on the beach and walked into the sea. Her body was never found.”
Dane and Nate exchanged horrified glances. Dane turned to the computer and typed Amy Childs into the database. He got an instant match. It was her. His Amy. The woman he’d put in charge of his kids and had fallen in love with, had some maniac trying to kill her. No wonder stuff was happening. No wonder she’d been so cagy about her past and hadn’t wanted to drive when he asked her to.
He shook his head. “She’s broken her sentencing conditions,” he said quietly. He’d have to arrest her the next time he saw her. “Nate.” He turned the screen so his partner could see it. “It’s her.”
Nate’s eyes widened. “Ray, Amy’s alive. She’s right here in Headley Cross.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. Your Amy Childs is our Amy Stabler.”
Dane read slowly. “It sounds like someone big was after her.” He caught his breath. Lord God, it can’t be. Surely I’m reading this wrong. “Nate…”
Nate looked over as he finished the call and hung up. “What is it?”
“The guy she ran over. It was Derek Saunders.”
Nate paled. “The guy we met in Filely?”
“Yes. Kevin Saunders’s brother.” He pushed upright. “I need to get home now.”
“I’ll take you.”
DI Welsh came in. Did that woman know instantly he left his desk? “Where are you two off to now?”
“Following up a new line of investigation.” Not bothering to explain, Dane put his coat on as he pulled his mobile from his pocket. He dialed Amy’s mobile and headed to the door as he waited for her to pick up. The panic inside him grew exponentially as the phone rang off the hook. “There’s no answer. I have to get over there. Nate, we gotta run.”
Nate shot their boss an apologetic look as he hurtled from the room after Dane.
Amy scooted backwards, trying to protect Jodie as Mr. Scruffy moved towards them.
“How is that possible?” Jodie shrieked.
“I don’t know.”
Mr. Scruffy reached for Amy and she dodged, sending the vase of flowers crashing to the floor. She grabbed Jodie’s hand and ran for the door, sliding on the wet tiles.
Three men wearing masks appeared in the doorway with guns.
Jodie screamed as one man grabbed her, pulling her away from Amy.
Amy reached for her, her feet slipping. “Leave her alone!”
Another grabbed Amy. “No, you don’t. You’re not going anywhere.”
The third man came over to her. “It’s so nice to see you again, Amy.” He looked over at Mr. Scruffy. “Search the house, and then burn it. The rest of you put these two in the car.”
Amy struggled as they dragged her and Jodie out of the house. God keep Vicky safe in there. And protect us. “You don’t need Jodie,” she yelled. “Let her go.”
“Shut up.” A blow jolted her head sideways, and she saw stars. To her left she saw Jodie struggle before she was picked up and tossed in the car. Someone shoved her sideways and she fell into the vehicle, hitting her head on the metal frame as she did.
The door slammed shut. She felt for a handle, but there was none.
“Where’s Vicky?” Jodie signed frantically as the car moved.
“In the house,” Amy whispered. She turned and looked.
Flames leapt from the study window. Please God, look after Vicky, and get her out of there.
Dane prayed hard as Nate sped along the streets from the police station to his house. His body taut as a violin bow, he had a horrid feeling they’d run out of time. It was like that awful night when Nate had turned up on his doorstep to tell him that Jas was dead.
Two patrol cars also turned into his road, one in front of them, one behind, blues and twos echoing. The bad feeling grew. They hadn’t told anyone. What else was happening for uniform to turn up in such numbers?
They rounded the corner to find flames shooting from the study and lapping up the side of the house.
His heart sank and then stopped. His kids were in there. “Noooo…”
Nate skidded the car to a halt, stopping it on the handbrake.
Dane leapt from the car and ran towards the house, screaming at the top of his voice. “Jodie! Vicky! Amy!” He hurtled up the path and shouldered the door. It didn’t give. He pulled out his key, fumbling with it. Something in the study exploded, sending sparks and flames shooting through the window.
Sirens blared from somewhere behind him as he pushed open the door. Thick black smoke billowed out.
“Dane, wait,” Nate yelled.
Dane ignored him, plunging into the burning building, desperate to find his daughters and pull them out. The thick smoke choked him, the flames crackled, heat blasting from the study door. “Vicky? Jodie? Amy?”
God, please a little help here. Let me find them.
He looked in the lounge and kitchen, but there was no one there. Putting a hand over his mouth, he fought his way through the smoke up the stairs. Amy’s room, above the study, was ablaze.
He pushed open Vicky’s door. “Vicky! Jodie! Are you in here?”
A whimper came from the wardrobe, barely audible over the noise of the fire.
He ran over to it, coughing, and flung open the door.
Vicky sat curled up at the bottom of the wardrobe, clutching her teddy, tears falling down her cheeks. Her whole body shook, and she rocked slowly back and forth.
> Thank You.
“I got you,” he whispered. He pushed his arm out of the sling, and gathered her into his arms. He grunted as pain shot through him. The grunt turned to a muffled scream as he stood, holding Vicky tightly to his chest.
Her arm snaked around his neck, her tears soaking his collar.
“It’s OK,” he managed. He took one step, almost losing his balance.
God, help me get out Vicky of here, please. Don’t let me drop her.
Two fire fighters in full kit appeared behind him. “Let’s get you out of here.” The voice was familiar, but he couldn’t place it in all the confusion around him.
“I have to find the others.”
“We’ll do that. Right now I want you and Vicky out of here.” One of them led him into his room where a ladder rested against the window.
Tears tracked down his face as they took Vicky from him, handing her out of the window.
“Now you,” the fire fighter said.
He looked at him, suddenly recognizing the eyes. “Jared?”
Jared Harkin, friend and fellow church member nodded. “Now, out, so I can do my job. Who’s still missing?”
“Jodie has to be in here somewhere. And Amy. She was looking after the girls while I was at work.” He slowly slid outside, letting the other firefighter guide him down the ladder.
Nate stood at the bottom. “Idiot,” he hissed. “There’s being a hero and being stupid.”
“Where’s Vicky?”
“Right here.” The voice belonged to another firefighter.
“I couldn’t find them. Only Vicky. Vicky, sweetie…”
She scrambled into his arms.
“I couldn’t find them.” Dane repeated.
“Not there,” Vicky whispered.
He looked at her. Was he hearing things? “Sweetie?”
“Mr. Scruffy took them,” she whispered.
“Honey, Mr. Scruffy is a scarecrow. He can’t move.”
Nate put a hand on his arm. “Dane, she’s terrified, but she’s talking. Just let her say what she saw, we’ll make sense of it later. Go on, Vicky. What did Mr. Scruffy do?”
