by J. M. Hewitt
It was Alice’s courtroom voice, Melanie realised. One rarely used at home, one hardly ever used against Melanie or Harry. At home Alice’s voice was a soft murmur, usually in agreement to whatever Harry was suggesting.
‘Melanie?’ Alice, unaccustomed to the dark, stumbled over to her daughter. ‘What’s going on?’
I won’t tell her, thought Melanie. It’s not my secret to tell. She clamped her lips even tighter together, knowing they were white as the blood drained away.
‘Lenon is sick.’ Willow spoke up suddenly. ‘He’s been poisoned, just like my mother. Just like all of you will be if you stand in my way.’
‘What?’ A half-laugh came from Alice. ‘What are you talking about?’
More noise as Willow stood up. She was as tall as Alice, Melanie realised, as the two of them stood face to face. Suddenly Melanie had a terrible thought, a vision, almost, of the cold, uncaring, unfeeling Willow, producing a knife, the sound of it as it swished through the air towards Alice.
Melanie’s heart pounded furiously. She pushed herself up, darted out of the cave, and ran as fast as she could towards the cottages.
‘Dad!’ Melanie burst into the cottage, scanned the room. Even before she darted into her father’s bedroom she knew he wouldn’t be in there. ‘Dad.’ She spoke desperately. ‘Where are you, Dad? I need to know it isn’t true. I need you to tell me that, Dad.’
The stillness of the deserted cottage mocked her in its silence.
She walked towards the door, stopped in her tracks. Colours coming around the edge of the frame, seeping into the house, black and grey, reminding her of smoke.
Melanie ran to the door, peered outside, the low sun beating down in her face, blinding her. She shaded her eyes.
‘Dad?’ she called, a tremor to her voice now. ‘I’m scared.’
The colours, their source unseen, juddered towards her, followed by a figure.
‘Melanie.’ He said her name once, smooth, like caramel, friendly and normal-sounding, just like he always had been.
But before she could speak he moved again, his colours settling around his physical form, as he lurched towards her, clamping his hand roughly down across her mouth, stopping the scream before it had even begun.
Silence stretched, the only sound an occasional groan from Lenon.
Lenon. The boy was sick. Alice blinked rapidly, pushed her hands through her hair. It felt greasy, dirty, and unconsciously she rubbed her hands on her skirt.
‘Who has poisoned your mother?’ she asked, sure she’d misheard, misunderstood, praying unconsciously that she’d got it wrong, that Melanie had got it wrong, that Willow was making it up. She looked at the silent boy, his white, damp face. ‘Who has done this to Lenon?’
‘He feeds my mother pills, he started a while ago, now she can’t cope without them. He must have given Lenon some too.’ Willow turned to face her brother, put her hands on either side of his face. ‘What did he give you, a drink, food?’ she asked urgently.
Lenon shook his head weakly. ‘I never accept anything he’s prepared, he must have put something in a drink, maybe that coffee this morning, I might have turned my back for just a second but…I don’t know.’ His last words came out in a rush and he slumped back against the rocky wall, exhausted from his speech.
‘But who?’ Alice snapped this time, looking from Lenon to Willow. ‘And why?’
‘To stop them interfering, to stop my mother and Lenon being able to stop him,’ said Willow impassively.
Alice’s mouth fell slackly open, part disgust at Willow’s words, part horror in the emotionless way in which the younger girl spoke.
‘Where did Melanie go?’ she asked, and without waiting for an answer she bent over and darted from the cave.
In the open air, in the bright sun, she breathed deeply, in and out, hissing on the out breath to dispel the smell that seemed to have cloyed in her nostrils.
‘Melanie?’ she called, and then, louder, ‘MELANIE?’
The twins followed her and she rested her eyes on Lenon. ‘Tell me everything,’ she demanded.
‘He’s grooming me… trying to.’ Willow corrected herself. ‘I think he’s done it before, he was in that house with Melanie and her friend. He wants the kids, he’s… sick.’ She moved her hand to rest upon her brother’s shoulder. ‘There’s no way out, he needs not to be here any longer. He needs to be nowhere.’ Her hand kneaded her brother’s arm. ‘He needs to die.’
Alice drew in a shuddering, ragged breath. ‘Who?’ she asked, quietly this time.
Finally Willow raised her eyes to meet Alice’s.
‘Gabe,’ she said. ‘Gabe needs to die.’
But he’s so nice. It was the first thought that sprung into Alice’s mind. She swallowed the words before they came out of her mouth. It was a ridiculous thing to think. She, better than anyone, knew the cloaks and disguises people could wear. She saw enough of them facing her in the courtroom. She flicked her gaze between the two teenagers in front of her. And as she studied them, the pair of them, looking so much older than their actual age, she realised they were telling the truth.
‘Willow.’ She moved forward, ready to pull the girl into an embrace, but Willow scooted backwards.
‘Where did Melanie go?’ she asked, turning to Lenon, as though he had the answer.
Her words were the jolt that Alice needed.
The danger, her daughter, a paedophile, loose on this island from which there was no escape.
‘We need to find her, we need to stay together,’ she said. ‘Where is he?’
There was no need to ask who he was. Willow shrugged.
‘Right,’ said Alice from between gritted teeth. ‘Come on.’
Willow placed one hand under Lenon’s arm as they began to walk. Alice sucked in a breath. The boy was pale, clammy, practically green. Alice moved to walk beside him, hooked a finger under his chin and forced his face up to hers.
‘What’s he had?’ she snapped to Willow. ‘The same pills as your mother?’
Willow glared at her. ‘Probably, I don’t know, like he said, we thought we were careful, we never had anything he cooked, or foraged for, or collected, but something got through.’ Willow looked long and hard at her brother. ‘Not the same pills, maybe, because it took weeks to get Mum like she is, this is sudden, in the last couple of days.’
Alice suppressed a moan. What was happening here? How were they talking so normally about something so terrible? A man had been grooming his child, her own child too, and poisoning his wife, and the boy whom he had raised as his own son since childhood.
‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ Alice swore. ‘I can’t actually believe this is happening. This man is your father.’
Lenon raised his head, his eyes, pale and watery fixed on Alice. ‘He’s not our father,’ he said weakly.
His tone served only to irritate Alice further. She inhaled, held it, and blew it out slowly. I’m just scared because this is so huge, and so dangerous, and we’re fucking well trapped, she thought. I just need to find my girl and then I can think, I can come up with a plan.
But rational thought deserted her. All she had were more questions.
‘Why didn’t you report him, Willow?’ she asked, her voice high with fright. ‘Why didn’t you tell someone, a teacher, or the police?’
The sound of twigs cracking, of footsteps approaching stilled any answer that Willow may have given. Unconsciously the group moved closer together, Alice moved in front of Lenon and Willow.
Her heart pounded, and she realised for the first time in maybe all of her adult life she felt the deep, maternal instinct that she had always been chasing. A realisation like a shock jolted through her.
I’ll kill for my daughter.
And it wasn’t dramatic, or hysterical, simply pure and true.
They waited, and two shadows emerged from the trees. Two people, a man and a woman, casually dressed. Alice’s heart hammered in her chest. Strangers. Were they here at Gabe’s be
hest?
‘Who are you?’ Her voice was a shout, ragged and trembling, fear-filled, angry.
The woman stepped over to them, her blue-eyed gaze holding Alice’s for a long moment before flicking over each of the twins.
‘I’m Carrie Flynn,’ she said. ‘Detective Sergeant Carrie Flynn, this is Detective Constable Paul Harper.’ Carrie rested her gaze on the group of people in front of her and took a deep breath. ‘Willow did tell us what was happening. That’s why we’re here.’
33
He didn’t speak as he forced her to walk. Once they were into the woods, he took his hand away from her mouth.
‘You’re not going to scream though, are you?’ he asked.
Melanie shook her head. No, she wouldn’t scream, not yet. You had to judge these things, she knew.
‘Good girl,’ he said, and his words made her shiver.
‘Who are they?’ he asked now, quietly, his eyes cold but glinting with a hidden danger.
His question threw her. ‘Who?’ she asked.
‘Those people who’ve come here, they’re police, aren’t they?’ He pushed on, not waiting for an answer. ‘I can tell by the way they move.’
Melanie’s lips moved soundlessly. There were no other people on the island, nobody could come here.
Ben comes here, a little voice in her head told her.
But he’s not the police, her mind hissed in return.
‘I— I don’t know what you mean,’ she whispered, but he had turned his back on her again.
He hadn’t talked to her face on, she hadn’t even seen him before when he pounced on her. She wondered if he had the mask, if he were going to slip it on. Melanie began to shake, and she wrapped her arms around herself to try and stop the tremors.
She thought of Willow, cold, hard, brittle Willow, and wondered what this man had done to her to make her that way. She thought of Liz, slowly and regularly drugged by this man, and Lenon, pale and sick. She thought of Kelly, the way this man had held her hair so tightly that it had streamed out behind her like a ribbon. She wondered what this man planned for her. He gave nothing away as he stood beside her, silent and brooding, his shoulders hunched over.
‘You— you could let me go,’ she said, her voice brave but small.
He laughed, pushed her in her back, his fingers leaving an ice-cold trail on her spine.
‘My daughter has vanished,’ blurted Alice to the officers. ‘She was here, then just… gone.’
‘Is she with him?’ Carrie asked as she jogged the last few feet over to the little group.
‘I don’t know! I don’t know where he is!’ Alice’s voice rose, high-pitched, frantic.
Carrie nodded as she cast her eye over the cluster of frightened people in front of her. ‘Who else is here?’ she asked.
Alice swallowed. ‘My husband, Harry, somewhere.’ She gestured helplessly.
Paul stepped up and addressed Lenon directly. ‘Do you know where Gabe might be? Where he might have gone with Melanie?’
Alice staggered where she stood. ‘Do you think he’s got Melanie?’ she cried.
Paul held up a hand. ‘We don’t know that, how long ago was she here? Which direction did she go in?’ He turned to the twins. ‘Where does he usually spend his time?’
‘The woods,’ said Willow doubtfully. To Carrie her answer sounded like a question.
‘Let’s go,’ she said. ‘Stay close. Willow, tell us the way.’
They traipsed along, Willow in the lead, Carrie and Paul bringing up the rear. Alice fell in step beside Carrie.
‘Did Ben bring you here?’ Alice asked quietly.
Carrie exchanged a glance with Paul. ‘Yes, he did,’ she said.
‘Where is he?’ Alice stared straight ahead as she spoke, Carrie noticed the blush that stained her face. ‘I thought I saw his boat, but when I got there it was gone.’
‘We think it was the water conditions, docking here’s not easy for a small boat at the best of times,’ Paul answered. He waited a beat, then said, ‘but I guess you know that.’
Alice’s spine straightened noticeably. ‘I do know, he told us all about the currents when he brought us over. Harry knows too, he researched it all.’ Alice hissed out a bitter little laugh. ‘Harry researched everything except the people he brought over with us.’
‘So, you had no idea about Gabe?’ At Alice’s fierce look Carrie hurried on. ‘What do you know now? What has Willow told you?’
Alice pushed her hair back with her hands. ‘Apparently he’s been doping Liz, he’s given something to Lenon, he’s sick.’ Alice stopped abruptly and turned to face Carrie. ‘He’s been, what do you call it, grooming? Grooming Willow, whatever he did to the girl in that damn house back home, and… oh God…’ Alice covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shook.
‘Alice, what is it?’ Carrie leaned close to the woman.
Alice dropped her hands. ‘I thought he was charming!’ she said, her voice hoarse. ‘I thought he was the only person on this island who was normal!’ Alice grabbed blindly at Carrie’s sleeve and pulled at it. ‘Now I don’t know where Melanie is, she could be with him! What sort of a woman am I? What sort of a mother am I?’
Something splintered at Carrie’s memory, that word, charming… but as soon as the feeling came it was gone. Carrie extracted her arm from Alice’s grip. ‘People like Gabe are clever, they seduce everyone, even their victims to a point. Please don’t blame yourself. We’ll locate your daughter, that’s our priority.’
Paul moved up ahead of them, gesturing for Carrie to hang back while he took the lead from Willow. She glanced back, made sure that Lenon was still with them.
‘Stay close,’ she called to him.
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Alice fearfully. ‘Are we all in trouble?’ Without waiting for an answer she shook her head, rubbed at her face again. ‘It doesn’t matter, as long as the kids are safe, as long as Melanie is okay.’ She paused, turned and stared at Carrie, a piercing glare. ‘You will make sure the children are okay, won’t you?’
Of course, Carrie wanted to say. This is why I do this job, to save children before it’s too late, to make up for the time I didn’t save the most important little girl. That’s why I’m here, and I’ll do anything to make sure these kids get off this godforsaken island and have a normal, safe life.
Instead, she swallowed hard and whispered, ‘Of course we will.’
A shriek, piercing the air, startling a flock of birds as Carrie and Alice entered the underpass.
‘What was that?’ Alice hissed, frozen beside her.
Before she could reply Carrie heard footsteps pounding, a silhouette at the end of the tunnel. Carrie shot out a hand, dragged Alice to remain beside her, braced herself, planting her feet solidly on the concrete ground, finally relaxing as the person got closer.
Paul.
He stopped, locked his eyes on Carrie’s. ‘He’s down on the rocks,’ he muttered. He cast a single look at Alice. ‘Melanie is with him.’
‘Stay behind me,’ said Carrie to Alice. Alice shoved Carrie, ran after Paul who had already jogged halfway back down the underpass.
They were practically on a cliff top, she realised, as she emerged from the underpass into a howling wind. Ahead of them, Paul paced back and forth, his stance stiff, his movement jerky.
‘Where is she?’ Alice cried. ‘Where are they?’
Paul gestured over the cliff edge. Carrie inched towards him, peered over. The water slapped against the rocks below; beyond them, to the right of the water, two figures walked a winding path towards a small wooded area.
‘Where does that path lead to?’ Carrie called to the twins, her voice straining against the wind.
‘The east side, through the fields. It forks off, you can double back to the fields from there too,’ said Willow, gesturing to the side of the underpass they’d just come through.
Carrie turned to face Paul. ‘Take them back to the house, I’ll follow this trail.’
He shook his head. ‘We shouldn’t separate, we don’t know––’
She cut him off. ‘No time, Paul. I’ll meet you at the cottages.’
And before he could protest, she darted off towards the rocky shelf, and vanished from sight.
34
Harry sat in his window seat, periodically switching from peering outside from the lounge window, and shuffling across the room to look out across the back fields.
Where was everybody? He scratched at his head, wincing at his tender scalp from where the sun had caught his head through his thinning hair.
He hadn’t seen anyone all day long. He hadn’t seen Gabe for ages. Liz hadn’t emerged from her cottage; the kids could be anywhere. And Alice.
Where is Alice?
She hadn’t talked to him properly since their fight. Harry sighed, stuck his hand down the side of the chair and pulled out the medication bottle. Unscrewing the cap he looked inside, comforted slightly by the sight of the little white pills. There were many in there now, and Harry tipped two into his palm and dry swallowed them.
With another heavy sigh he leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes.
Where was everyone? After fifteen minutes or so, his question didn’t seem very important anymore.
‘Harry? Harry!’
Alice’s sharp tone pulled him from his slumber. He raised his hand, wiped at his damp mouth.
‘Baby,’ he said, but his voice was thick and his tongue felt too big for his mouth. He smiled regardless; he felt happy.
He reached his hand out, hooked his fingers around hers. ‘Come sit with me,’ he murmured.
Alice slapped his hand away. ‘For God’s sake, Harry, will you wake up?’
Someone else stepped into view, a man. Harry squinted.
‘Gabe?’
‘Mr Wilson, I’m Detective Constable Paul Harper with the Greater Manchester Police, Salford Division. We need to speak to you, we need your help, or some way of communicating with the city. Mr Wilson, do you have a working mobile phone?’
