The Vanishing Child: A gripping crime thriller with a climax you won't see coming (Detective Arla Baker Series Book 9)

by ML Rose

  Jacob encouraged Harry, who put his hand in, and pulled a lever.

  A series of clicks were heard up and down the wall, followed by a sudden, loud vibration. All of them stepped backwards.

  Jacob said, "Don't worry, this is normal. This trapdoor was actually constructed during the Second World War. If the Germans invaded us, then the generals would have escaped this way. It's all electric, and we check it once every month to make sure it's working."

  Arla asked, "But it's not a tourist attraction, is it?"

  Jacob shook his head. The shuddering continued, and with a grating noise on the floor and ceiling, the bookshelf started to move sideways.

  "The national heritage trust are thinking about it. I think it will be a big draw for the tourists." He added dryly, "As long as they don't fall down the hole."

  "What hole?"

  Before Jacob could answer, Harry picked something up from the floor. He held up a toy tractor in front of Arla's face. His eyes were shining with excitement.

  Arla nodded; it was all the confirmation she needed. Emmanuel had been here.

  The bookshelf had slid to the right now, revealing a narrow gap in the wall. A door was present, and the gap was only wide enough for one person to get through at a time. Jacob pressed the handle of the door. It was wedged tight, and Harry had to help in order to push the door open. With a screech, the door revealed an ominous, dark space. Harry shone his torchlight.

  Jacob said, "Be careful. The landing is small." His eyes were fixed on the floor. Harry's beam followed his gaze. Jacob pointed. "The dust has been disturbed. Can you see the footmarks?"

  Harry's torchlight beam picked up an adult shoe, as well as a child's smaller footprint.

  "It's them," Arla breathed. "Let's go." She took her own flashlight out, and pointed it. The landing was wide enough for two people, followed by steel steps, like a fire escape. Blackness swallowed up her beam when she shone it down.

  Inspector Hargreaves said, "This is not safe, DCI Baker."

  "We have no choice," Arla said. "Please call for backup. Do you know where the tunnel opens up?"

  Jacob answered. "To a wild beach. But you have to be careful of the tide rising up into the tunnel."

  Arla looked at Hargreaves. “Would you please ask the Coast Guard to send a patrol boat to the wild beach? I strongly suspect Charlie will attempt to escape by sea.”

  Inspector Hargreaves frowned. “But it’s the Channel – oh I see, you think he’s got a boat because he’s a good sailor?”

  “Precisely,” Arla confirmed. “Please do it now.”

  “Okay. But two of my men will go into the tunnel with you. Otherwise, I’m afraid I can’t let you proceed.” He smiled, and Arla nodded.

  Inspector Hargreaves asked a uniformed sergeant to go with Jacob. Arla followed Harry; their flashlight beams the only illumination cutting through the dense darkness as they descended. Their shoes made loud clanging sounds on the steel steps. Arla could smell dust, damp, and a peculiar rotten smell that made her nose turn. The air was dank and heavy.

  As they descended into the bowels of the earth, it became colder. The frigid blackness seemed to absorb all sound. Soon, Arla couldn't hear anything but her own breathing, and the sound of their footsteps.

  She could see Harry's flashlight bobbing up and down in front of her. She called out his name. He stopped, then turned. He shone the flashlight on his feet to show where he was. Like Arla, he was holding onto the railing as they descended. The railing was on both sides, and Arla was glad for that.

  Harry asked, "What about the others?"

  Above Arla could see two dim flashlights moving around. "That must be them," she said. But let's not wait. Carry on."

  It was disconcerting, as they were unable to see where they were headed. They had to go slow, feeling for each step with their feet before stepping on it. They used the torchlight, but sooner or later, the batteries would run out.

  The torchlight didn't show anything farther than twenty or thirty feet in any case. Arla could hear the sound of trickling water all around her. Her hands were cold, and so was her nose tip. Her teeth chattered.

  The steps came to an end. Harry halted, and their flashlights picked up packed earth. Harry pointed the beam upwards, and they saw paved bricks of the tunnel roof. It was tall enough for Harry to walk straight, so it had to be seven to eight feet high.

  The sides of the tunnel had wooden planks on them, and several of them were rotten. Damp and the ingress of water had wreaked havoc. The floor was wet, but due to the paved stones her feet weren't squelching. They walked on, descending into the heart of darkness.

  CHAPTER 58

  Charlie's hands were heavy. He couldn't carry Emmanuel anymore.

  The boy had struggled initially, and he had to say some stern words. Even threatened to leave him behind in the dark tunnel, which Charlie wasn't proud of. But it had worked. The boy was too scared of the dark, and clung to him.

  Charlie patted him on the back, and ploughed through the darkness. He stopped when his boots splashed water. His torch beam showed the ground slick, the water only high enough to cover his boots. There was a loud, roaring sound up ahead. It sounded fearsome, but Charlie smiled. The tide was coming in. He moved faster now, a new energy in his limbs. Visibility had increased. The tunnel swung to the left, and now he could see clear daylight.

  The roar was louder, and the water level was slightly higher, up to his shins now. Charlie waited on, as fast as he could. There was no time to lose. If he stayed in the tunnel for too long, he would drown like a rat. The tunnel zigzagged now, and the water level steadily increased. The roaring sound up ahead ebbed and flowed, and it was the mighty waves of the English Channel, dashing against the cliffs of Dover.

  Emmanuel had fallen asleep, but he woke up when he heard the sound. "What's that?" he asked. He didn't lift his head, or turn to look. He was too scared, and too weak to do anything.

  "It’s the sound of freedom," Charlie said with a smile. He moved Emmanuel from one arm to the other, aware that the boy wouldn't be able to walk in the rising water. He checked his watch. 1 PM. Exactly when the meteorological Institute website had said the tides would rise.

  Charlie had all the data on an app on his phone, like most sailors did. As he moved further, the tunnel started to flatten out. The light became brighter, and soon, Charlie could feel he was walking on something soft and powdery, like sand. The tide was bringing sand in, and the beach wasn't far away.

  A fresh breeze struck Charlie in the face. He breathed deeply; it was a welcome relief from the pungent dampness inside the tunnel. He was six feet tall, and he knew as much as his arms were aching, he couldn't make Emmanuel walk. He spoke to the boy, and transferred him on his shoulders. Emmanuel ducked his head so he didn't hit the roof of the tunnel.

  A round blue sky came into view, and it was like looking through a giant telescope. Charlie had never been so glad to see daylight. He was at the edge of the tunnel, and it was blocked by an iron grill gate. The gate was rusty, and it wasn't locked. He opened it easily, then stepped out at the lip of the tunnel. The beach was a few feet below him. However, due to the rising tide, he couldn’t see the beach any more.

  Due to this difference in gradient, the tunnel didn't get flooded too easily. It was only a matter of time however. As the tide continued to rise, it would flood everything eventually.

  Charlie sat down, and urged the boy to sit down as well. Emmanuel wasn't happy. The water was cold, and it soaked him even when he sat on Charlie’s lap.

  "Listen to me carefully," Charlie said. "We are going to swim. Don't be afraid. See that boat over there?"

  The beach was in a sheltered cove. It formed a natural harbour. Charlie's yacht was tied to a rock, and in the gentle swell it bobbed up and down. Charlie said, "Once we are in the water, you have to hold onto my neck. We will swim to the boat."

  Emmanuel shook his head. "No. I don't want to go."

  Charlie didn't have time to a
rgue. He grabbed Emmanuel, who fought him. Charlie tucked Emmanuel's hands under his chin and clasped him close to his chest. He had kicked his clothes and shoes off already and also discarded the bag. It only had food and drink. His phone, wallet and keys were in a waterproof case, secure around his neck. He was only wearing his boxers, and carried Emmanuel.

  The cold water was a shock, making him gasp. He sank under, then kicked with his powerful legs, rising up to the surface. Luckily, Emmanuel didn't let go of the grip around his neck.

  Charlie broke water, then treaded. He checked that Emmanuel was okay. The boy was breathing, his eyes tightly shut. Charlie started to swim. His yacht was only 30 feet away.

  CHAPTER 59

  Arla heard the roaring sound and stopped. The sound echoed against the walls of the tunnel, and she felt a tremor in the ground.

  "What was that?" she shouted to Harry who was walking ahead.

  The sound faded, then came again. "Sea waves, if I had to guess," Harry shouted back. Arla felt a chill in her bones.

  She hurried up to catch up with Harry. Her feet splashed on water for the first time. The flashlight beam revealed the ground was wet, not just damp anymore. The water seemed to have come from nowhere.

  She grabbed Harry's sleeve. "How far do think it is?"

  Harry's face was lined and taut, his jaws flexed. "I don't know. We have to make a choice. If we go forward, we could drown. Or we head back now, and come around the other way. Via the sea."

  Arla saw the indecision on his face, and felt it herself. She said, "It depends on how far ahead Charlie is."

  "He can't be that much ahead. He’s slower because he's carrying the boy. And he might be wading through water." His wide, adrenaline charged eyes scanned her face. "You go back. Join Inspector Hargreaves’s team and come round the other side, to the beach."

  She shook her head. "No. Like you said, he can't be that far ahead. Let's catch him now."

  Harry stared at her for a few seconds, then he opened his mouth to speak. Then he thought better of it. They started walking again, faster this time. The water was rising steadily. Soon, they were wading through knee deep, icy cold black water.

  The roaring and crashing was getting louder by the second. It receded almost to nothing, then swelled again, the booms echoing round the walls of the tunnel. Arla could feel the walls shaking every time the sea currents thrust against the old tunnel. The water was splashing against her knees soon, and she could feel the whole tunnel shaking. Fear gripped her. Harry had moved up ahead, and she called out to him. "I don't think it's safe anymore."

  Harry stopped, and looked back at her. The tunnel was flattening out, and Harry had to walk stooped.

  "You go back." He shouted.

  He said something else, but his words were lost in a sudden explosion. The tunnel seemed to shake from side to side, and chunks of masonry fell from the top. Arla screamed, pushed to her side. She fell against the wall and splashed into the water. She was submerged, but she lifted herself up quickly, splattering and coughing. She brushed away her hair, and stared into the darkness. She had lost her torchlight.

  There was a series of explosions up ahead, and the ground shook beneath her feet. She tried to move forward, but came up against a mountain of dirt and collapsed masonry. The roaring sound came again, and the tunnel seemed to move. More debris fell on her from top.

  "Harry!" She screamed. She could hear him answer, from the other side. The tunnel had collapsed between them, and somehow, she had to make her way to him.

  Fear and blind panic numbed her senses. Her fingers became claws as she scraped at the hill of debris blocking her way.

  She could hear Harry's muffled voice calling her.

  "Arla, can you hear me?"

  "Yes”, she shouted. "Are you okay?"

  "Listen, there's something I need to tell you."

  Water splashed against Arla's waist, and she was soaked to the skin. The crashing sound reverberated around the tunnel again, muffling all other sound. But she heard Harry's words, and went still.

  "Arla, can you hear me?"

  "Yes, I can."

  "I need to tell you something important." His voice seemed to come from a distance. "Will you…

  There was a gigantic ripping, tearing sound, and it turned Arla's world upside down. More debris rained down from above, and she had to cower down in the water, hands over her head. The ground shook, and her head dipped in the water again. She was shaken like a ragdoll from side to side. She held her breath underwater, then rose as soon as she could. She coughed, brushing wet hair away from her face.

  "Harry!" She screamed. She screamed his name again but heard nothing. The hill of debris blocked her path, but the water level was steady at her waist. She shouted his name again, but silence swallowed up her words.

  She heard sounds behind her, and human voices. Torch beams bobbed up and down. A uniformed policeman appeared around the corner, taking the light off Arla's startled face.

  "Ma’am we need to get out of here now. The tunnel is collapsing."

  Arla's teeth were chattering. She pointed at the blockage in front of her. "My partner’s trapped in there. We have to get him!"

  The sergeant shook his head. "Your partner will now have to come out the other way. We will all drown here if we don't get out now.”

  Two men came forward and grabbed Arla by the elbows. She fought them, but she was weak with cold and exhaustion. Breath rasped in her lungs, and she couldn't breathe. Tears sprouted in her eyes and her heart splintered into a thousand pieces.

  "Harry," she sobbed. "I can't leave him. Please. I can’t leave him."

  Her words were drowned out by the roar of the sea water behind them, surging into the tunnel.

  CHAPTER 60

  Harry was dazed when fragments of a brick hit him on the head.

  The tunnel was literally lurching sideways, and with the booming, explosive sounds he wondered if Charlie had booby-trapped the place. Or it could just be the force of the incoming tide.

  The water level was steadily rising. He had lost his flashlight, and he couldn't see a great deal. He shouted Arla's name, but heard nothing apart from silence. He quelled the panic in his heart.

  He only had one option. His way back was now blocked by the mountain of fallen debris where the roof of the tunnel had caved in. He couldn't pick his way through with his bare hands. He had no option but to move forward. He had to believe Arla was okay, and help would arrive for her. After all, the two uniformed sergeants had stayed behind them, and they should be able to rescue Arla, with any luck.

  His position was far more precarious.

  The freezing, brackish water was now up to his chest level. As he waded forward it rose even further. Harry tried not to panic. That would only make things worse. He was a good swimmer, and he hoped and prayed he could hold his breath for long enough.

  He took off his shoes, and the rest of his garments. When he was down to his boxers, he started to swim. The water level still kept rising. And soon, his fingers were scraping the top of the tunnel. Harry stopped and breathed.

  The water was up to his chin now, and he could only breathe the damp, putrid air by turning his lips up to the tunnel roof. He floated, and the water level soon came up to his nose. His lips were practically kissing the mossy bricks. He took one last deep breath of precious oxygen, hoping it wouldn't be his last.

  Then he dived under water, swimming rapidly. He couldn't see anything, but he could tell he was moving forward. A couple of times his fingers scraped the wall, and he realise the tunnel was zigzagging. He kept on swimming, aware that air was slowly fading from his lungs. He held his breath for as long as he could, then released some bubbles.

  He could see light up ahead. Sunbeams sliced through the water, diffusing the water with light. It was all very hazy for Harry, as he kept blinking.

  His lungs were bursting now, and he knew he couldn't hold on without oxygen for much longer. His only consolation was the daylight, w
hich was getting brighter.

  His eyes were fully open now, and he could detect a shape up ahead. It appeared to have a criss-cross pattern. Strength was fading from his limbs. He needed oxygen. With one last burst of energy, he propelled himself forward. His fingers scraped against the grids of a rusty gate. He yanked, then pushed, and suddenly the gate gave way, and he was out in bright light, no tunnel roof over his head any more. He could see the sky above, over the water. He could hear the sounds of seagulls. But his eyes were closing. His mouth opened involuntarily, and he coughed as seawater entered his throat. His arms were like lead, he couldn't move them. His legs were made of stone, and they stopped moving.

  There was a humming inside his brain, and it grew. He couldn't feel anything. Was he dying?

  His mouth opened again, and more brackish, saline water move down his throat. Harry coughed, which resulted in him swallowing even more water. The effect was electrifying, and it sent a jolt up his spine. The spark of electricity spread down his limbs, and his eyes flashed open. He moved up through the water with a final burst of strength. After what felt like an eternity, he broke the surface.

  Harry reared up, taking in a big, long gulp of air. He treaded water, breathing, gasping, sputtering. God, it felt good to be able to breath. His greedy lungs sucked in oxygen for all he was worth.

  Then he looked around him. He was in a rocky cove, sheltered from the sea outside. The cove was encircled by white cliffs and rocks. A flicker of movement to his left grabbed his attention. He turned to see a white and blue yacht to his left, tied to a rock. The boat bobbed gently in the swell.

  There was a little boy standing on the deck, his mouth wide open in surprise as he stared at Harry.

  Harry stared back, wondering why the boy looked familiar. With a shock, he realised. It was Rochelle Pitt’s son, Emmanuel.

  CHAPTER 61