Bring Me Back_The addictive new page turner from the bestselling author of Behind Closed Doors

by B A Paris

  And where is Peggy? I’m hoping she’s with Ellen, because Peggy won’t let her come to any harm. But what if she’s run off, what if something happened here last night that made her afraid? I want to go and look for her instead of just sitting here, waiting, but I need to stay here to speak to Tony. But I want to go through everything with Harry first.

  At eight thirty I phone Harry’s office again. I’d begun to feel as if I was the only person left in the world so I’m relieved when one of his assistants answers.

  ‘I’m afraid he’s away,’ Alice says, confirming what I already know.

  ‘Away where?’ I ask.

  ‘I don’t know, he said he was going abroad for a few days.’

  ‘Well, does anyone know where he is? I wouldn’t normally insist but I need to speak to him urgently.’

  ‘Hold on a minute, I’ll find out.’

  She comes back to tell me that nobody knows where he is or when he’ll be back, just that he walked uncharacteristically out of the office two days ago. I ask her if he checks in from time to time and she says he has once, so far. She promises to tell him that I need to speak to him next time he phones. I hang up, unease spreading through me. First Ruby, then Ellen, now Harry. All three of them have gone somewhere, yet no one knows where. Is there some kind of conspiracy going on? Has all this been about Harry and Ellen, as I’d once thought? But where does Ruby fit in? Or maybe she doesn’t, maybe Ruby is simply away on holiday somewhere. The only two things I know for sure is that I’m on my own and that time is marching on.

  Tony plays on my mind. If I’m to tell him the whole truth, I need to phone him within the next hour because once he knows about the last email from Layla, the one saying I should have chosen her over Ellen, he’ll wonder why I didn’t phone him straightaway given the underlying menace in the message. But if I don’t tell him the whole truth, I have a few hours. In a few hours I can phone him and tell him that last night, Ellen and I had a row, I went storming off to the cottage and when I came back, Ellen was gone, that she hasn’t been answering her phone, and that I’m now getting worried as I would have expected her to be back by now. The truth, the whole truth? Or only part of it?

  I give myself until lunchtime. If I haven’t made any headway by then, I’ll phone Tony and tell him the whole truth. I go through to the sitting room and look out of the window, watching for Ellen’s car coming down the road, trying to get my thoughts in order.

  I start with Layla. First, is it really her or someone pretending to be her? I go back over everything, from the appearance of the first Russian doll to the last email I received, and by the end, I can’t bring myself to believe that it wasn’t her. Only she and I knew about the tree stump shaped like a Russian doll on Pharos Hill. Next, I try and work out where she could have been for the last twelve years – but I quickly realise that the most important thing is to work out where she’s been for the last six weeks, since the first Russian doll appeared. Ellen had seen her in Cheltenham, yet Layla had said that she was closer than that, so where? How had she been able to leave Russian dolls on the wall without anyone seeing her? I’d heard a car driving away one day but that was before her closer than you think message, when I had presumed she was in Cheltenham, so it had been logical to presume that it was her. But maybe it hadn’t been, maybe the car had nothing to do with her, maybe she’d been on foot, because she was already in Simonsbridge. Or maybe she got someone to leave the dolls for her.

  I’m back to Ruby again. It would have been easy enough for her to leave the dolls. Did Layla ask her to leave them? Or is Ruby working alone? What about the couple that Mick saw walking past the house? Was Layla one of them? I need to go back and speak to Mick, ask if the woman had red hair, ask if he’s seen anything suspicious since. But not now. At this time in the morning, he’ll be giving his wife – Fiona, I think he said – her breakfast.

  Fiona. That was the name of Layla and Ellen’s mother, I remember.

  There’s a sudden explosion in my brain, the sound of every theory I’ve just considered being blasted apart, leaving nothing but a roaring in my ears. And then I’m running out of the house and across the road to where Mick lives with his invalid wife, his invalid wife who is called Fiona, his invalid wife that I’ve never seen and I hammer on the door, shouting to be let in. And of course, it takes Mick a while to open it, and of course, he has a bowl of porridge in his hands, his weapon against intruders. Enraged, I lift my hand, wanting to knock it away, and Mick steps back in alarm.

  ‘Where is she?’ I yell. I try to push my way into the hall but Mick slams the door into me, blocking it with his foot.

  ‘For God’s sake, man, what’s got into you?’ he cries, looking frightened. But I see through his act and give the door another almighty shove.

  ‘Let me in!’ I yell. ‘I want to see her!’

  ‘What are you talking about? If it’s Ellen, she’s not here.’

  ‘What do you know about Ellen?’ I snarl.

  ‘I heard you arguing last night, then I saw you drive off. She’s not here, I promise.’

  ‘Let me in!’ I push against the door. ‘I want to see your wife!’

  ‘My wife?’ He stares at me, bewildered. ‘What has she got to do with any of this?’

  ‘Let me see her!’

  ‘No.’ His whole demeanour suddenly changes. He draws himself up to his full height, which is still eight inches shorter than me. ‘Go away, Finn. I’m sorry about Ellen but if you don’t leave, I’m going to call the police. Ellen isn’t here.’

  ‘No, but Layla is!’

  ‘Layla?’

  ‘Yes, Layla!’ I give the door an almighty shove and Mick stumbles back. ‘Where is she?’ I cry, stepping into the hall. ‘Where’s your wife?’

  ‘Please don’t do this.’ Mick is almost in tears. ‘You can’t, you have no right.’

  ‘I have every right!’ Pushing past him, I head down the corridor. ‘Layla! Where are you?’ I open the door to the sitting room but there’s no one there. I turn to Mick, standing in the doorway, the bowl of porridge still in his hands, and knock it onto the floor. ‘Where is she?’ I roar.

  And then I hear it, a kind of whimpering coming from a room further down the corridor. I manhandle Mick out of the way and head for the room.

  ‘No!’ he cries. ‘You can’t! Leave us alone!’

  But I’m already flinging the door open.

  And there she is, struggling to sit up from where she’s been lying in her bed, a claw-like hand clutching the front of her nightdress, a look of absolute terror on her face. And as I look at her, I can feel the absolute horror on mine.

  FIFTY-THREE

  Finn

  ‘Mick, Mick!’ She claws at her nightdress.

  Mick barges past me. ‘It’s alright, Fiona,’ he soothes, rushing to her side, pushing her gently back against the pillows. ‘I’m here.’

  ‘Who’s that man?’ Her voice is shaking with stress.

  ‘It’s alright,’ he says, swallowing his anger. ‘He’s our neighbour, he lives across the road. He just wanted to say hello to you.’ He looks over at me, his face drained of colour. ‘But he’s leaving now.’

  ‘Why was he shouting?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ My voice comes out a whisper. ‘I’m sorry.’ I begin to back out of the room. ‘I wanted to say hello, that’s all. But I’m going now.’

  ‘I’ll go and see him out,’ I hear Mick explaining. ‘Then I’ll come back and finish giving you your breakfast.’

  He follows me to the door.

  ‘Mick, I’m so sorry,’ I begin, but he cuts me off.

  ‘Get out. If you ever come near us again, I’ll call the police.’

  I stumble into the front garden and see Mrs Jeffries on her doorstep, a phone in her hand.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say to her. ‘I’m sorry.’ I want to ask her if she’s phoned the police but she’s looking worriedly at Mick and I can feel them watching me as I cross back over the road.

  In
the house, I sink onto the stairs and put my head in my hands. Waves of shame flood through me as the whole nightmare scenario plays through my mind over and over again. I can’t get the look of terror on his wife’s face out of my mind, nor the distress on Mick’s as he pleaded with me to leave them alone. How could I have done what I just did, how could I have acted in such a brutish, bullying manner? What if Mrs Jeffries has phoned the police and they’re already on their way? They’ll find out that Ellen is missing and Mick will attest to us having an argument last night.

  I take out my phone, call Ellen’s number. Again it goes through to voicemail, again I leave a message asking her to call me back urgently. I check my emails in the hope that there’s something from Layla but there’s nothing.

  I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting there when my mobile rings. Please let it be Ellen, please let it be Ellen, I pray as I fish it from my pocket. It’s Harry.

  ‘Is everything alright, Finn? Alice said you were looking for me.’

  ‘No, not really. Can you talk?’

  ‘The thing is, I’m a bit tied up at the moment. I’m abroad.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ I wait for him to tell me where he is and when he doesn’t it quickly turns into awkwardness.

  ‘Can I phone you back? In about ten minutes?’ Harry asks, breaking the silence.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘I’ll call you back.’

  He rings off and I sit with my mobile in my hand, playing over the conversation again. Something isn’t right. He didn’t even ask what the problem was when I told him something had happened. Why was that? And why hadn’t he called me back until his secretary asked him to? He must have seen that I’d tried to get hold of him earlier, he must have listened to my messages asking him to call me straight back. Did he already know what the problem was, did he already know that Ellen had disappeared?

  How many times am I going to wonder if there’s something going on between Harry and Ellen before I actually believe it? When I’d asked Harry if he was in love with Ellen, he had denied it, said she wasn’t his type. Had he been lying, had I been right all those weeks ago when I thought he was behind the Russian dolls? Was it him who lured me to the cottage so that Ellen could leave while I was away? But why bring me back to the house so quickly? The answer stares me in the face. To frame me for her disappearance, to make it look as if I killed her.

  Realising the precariousness of my position, I feel ill. If Ellen doesn’t turn up soon, if the police become involved, not only could Mick attest to our argument last night, he could also attest to me leaving soon after in the car. And then the police might start wondering if Ellen’s body was in the boot and if I dumped it somewhere before coming back home. They might think my visit to Mick this morning was some kind of ruse or distraction, part of a plan to cover my tracks.

  My mobile rings, making me jump, because it’s still in my hand. I take a moment to compose myself, because I have a horrible feeling Harry is going to tell me something I don’t want to hear.

  ‘Harry?’

  ‘Look, Finn, there’s something I need to tell you.’

  ‘Is she with you?’ I ask dully.

  ‘Yes.’ He gives an awkward laugh. ‘I’m sorry, I should have told you – we should have told you,’ he corrects. ‘But we didn’t know how you would feel about it.’

  I close my eyes, hardly able to believe that what I feared was true.

  ‘How do you expect me to feel?’ I explode. ‘I’ve been betrayed by my best friend.’

  ‘That’s a bit harsh,’ he protests.

  ‘Harsh?’ White hot anger rises in me. ‘Why couldn’t you just have told me instead of playing all those stupid games?’

  ‘What stupid games?’

  ‘You know damn well! All those stupid Russian dolls, all those emails. Why make me think that Layla was back? Do you realise what it’s been like for me? How could you be so cruel?’

  ‘Whoa, buddy, I think you need to calm down. First of all, I don’t know anything about emails and secondly, the only Russian dolls I have any knowledge of is the one I found and the ones you told me about.’ He stops and I hear a woman’s voice in the background. ‘Hold on,’ he says, ‘I’m going to pass you to Ruby. Maybe she can work out what you’re on about.’

  I feel as if I’ve been hit with a brick. Ruby?

  Her voice comes down the line. ‘Hello, Finn.’ She sounds hesitant, wary. ‘Is everything alright?’

  It takes me a while to answer, to get my thoughts in some sort of order.

  ‘No, not really,’ I say eventually. ‘Ellen’s gone missing and when I couldn’t get hold of Harry, I thought – well, I thought she might be with him.’

  There’s a stunned silence. ‘Harry and Ellen? No, that just wouldn’t happen.’ In the background, I hear Harry groan. ‘But listen, Finn – when you say that Ellen’s missing, what do you mean? Since when?’

  ‘We had a row last night. I left for a bit and when I came back, she was gone.’

  ‘But she’ll be back, surely, once she’s cooled off? I mean, it’s only a question of hours. It’s not as if she’s been missing for days.’

  ‘I think she might be with Layla.’

  ‘Layla? So she’s turned up, then?’

  ‘Yes, I think so. Last night, she told me to go to the cottage in St Mary’s, so I went, but she wasn’t there. When I messaged her to see where she was, she told me she was at the house – here, in Simonsbridge. So I turned around and on the way back a message came in saying that I should have got rid of Ellen. And when I got back here, Ellen was gone.’

  ‘She didn’t leave a note or anything?’

  ‘No. But because of the message I got from Layla, I’m worried she might be in some kind of danger.’

  She’s silent for a moment. ‘You don’t seriously think that Layla would harm Ellen, do you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I hope not. But Layla’s actions over the last few weeks suggest that she’s not exactly rational.’

  ‘I take it you haven’t told the police that Ellen is missing.’

  ‘No, I was going to give it a few more hours. Peggy’s missing too,’ I add.

  ‘Oh Finn,’ she says softly, because she understands how much of a blow that is to me.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I say. ‘I’m hoping she’s with Ellen. She won’t let Layla harm her.’ I hear Harry saying something to her in the background.

  ‘Harry says to tell you that we’ll leave in the next few hours and be with you tomorrow. We’re in the Bahamas so we can’t get there any quicker,’ she adds apologetically.

  ‘The Bahamas?’

  ‘Yes. We’ll check flights and get back to you.’

  ‘No, don’t come back, it’s fine.’

  ‘We should have told you,’ Ruby says, ‘but it was one of those weird things. When I told Harry – you know, when you brought him to the pub that time and he stayed behind for a drink – that I fancied a break somewhere exotic, he recommended the Bahamas and said that if I went, he’d join me. I didn’t think he would,’ she adds. ‘Yet here he is.’

  ‘So when are you due back?’

  ‘In three days.’

  ‘Well, hopefully Ellen will have turned up by then,’ I say, trying to inject my voice with a little light-heartedness.

  ‘Phone the police. Let us know if you have any news. And if you need to talk, you know where we are.’

  I hang up. At least I know Ruby and Harry are there if I need them. I take a minute to work out how I feel about the two of them being together and realise that I’m fine with it. Then I remember Ellen and how she’s still missing.

  I dial her number again, leave another message. As I put my phone back in my pocket my hand comes into contact with the little Russian doll I found on the landing. I take it out and examine it closely, wondering if it comes from the pile that Ellen threw down on the bed upstairs, the ones from my office. Maybe she’d had it in her hand and dropped it on the way out to the car. Not dropped it, put
it there, because if she had dropped it, it wouldn’t have been standing upright. This doll had been placed as carefully as all the others I’d found. Did that mean that it was Layla who left it, not Ellen?

  I go upstairs onto the landing. I had found it about halfway along, bang in the middle of the floor, equidistant from each wall. I crouch down and examine the wooden floorboards, not really knowing what I’m looking for. But there’s nothing, and disappointed, I get to my feet. I’m reading too much into it; it’s just a Russian doll. It’s still in my hand so I stoop and place it in the middle of the floor, more or less where I found it. Straightening up again, I look down at it. Why there? I ask it silently. Why were you standing there? I look up and down the corridor, up and down the walls, up at the ceiling. And see, directly above where the Russian doll is standing, the trapdoor to the attic.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  Finn

  The hairs on the back of my neck, on my arms, stand on end. I haven’t been up to the attic since I first moved into the house when Harry asked me whether I’d mind if his friend, the owner, kept some of his things up there. As far as I’m concerned, it’s out of bounds and Ellen, to my knowledge, has never been up there. The weirdest thought comes to me – what if Layla has been hiding up there? It would take her closer than you think message to a whole new level. It would also explain how she’d been able to leave the Russian dolls so easily. I dismiss the idea almost at once. I’ve been wrong about many things today but to think that Layla could have been living in the attic without me and Ellen knowing is ridiculous. There’s always one of us around. Before, Ellen and I would take Peggy for a walk every afternoon, and be gone for at least an hour, but we hadn’t been doing that lately. One of us usually takes Peggy on our own, so there’s always someone here. Even though I spend a lot of time in my office, I could come in at any time. Unless Ellen had helped Layla hide. Maybe Layla turned up one day and begged Ellen to hide her. But why? And would Ellen really have hidden Layla in the attic without telling me?