Beth had little choice but to let herself roll all the way down the hill and hope she landed safely at the bottom. She finally came to a halt with a bump, and the back of her head struck the ground hard. She gasped and moaned, then lay completely still while she attempted to work out how badly injured she was.
Beth’s body ached and her head throbbed. She could feel cuts on her arms, legs and face, as well as areas where bruises would soon form, but she could flex her fingers, move her legs and tentatively raise her arms. Everything hurt like hell, but nothing was broken. She turned her head slightly and surveyed the bank she had just come down at speed. Her first thought was that it was a miracle she hadn’t broken her neck, let alone anything else.
Then she wondered how the hell she was going to get back up that high, almost vertical, slippery bank. She turned her head to see what lay in the opposite direction so she could consider her options, and the problem of the bank went straight out of her mind. Now there was a more pressing concern. A dark shape in the undergrowth caught her eye and, at first, she thought it was her overwrought mind playing tricks on her, but then the shape moved and took a step in her direction.
The bulky presence was moving straight towards her. She tried to move away but pain shot through her body. She cried out in alarm and the figure kept coming right at her.
As it moved closer, she realized it was a filthy man dressed in rags. A man with matted hair and a dirt-encrusted face. His wild eyes were full of fear and anger. He was getting closer and he was carrying a large knife.
A lot went through Beth’s mind in the second or two it took the burly figure to bear down on her. By the time he was standing over her, his knife held in readiness, she knew he was Harry, the rough sleeper they were looking for, and, presumably, the man who had pushed her down the hill. She had fallen into a glade a dozen or so yards from the shelter he had constructed. She could just make it out in the background behind him.
She also realized from the look on his face how he viewed her – as a trespasser and a threat. She was trying to invade his territory, steal something from him, possibly take him away. Beth read all that in the man’s enraged face.
She managed to slide herself back a yard or two, ignoring the pain. Before she could even sit up, he was towering over her, close enough for her to smell the stench on the man.
Without even rationally thinking about it, she blurted out, ‘I’m Beth,’ then held up a palm to fend him off. ‘Please,’ she urged him. ‘Don’t!’
Black was frustrated that Happy Harry had given him the slip. He turned and trudged back down the lane. It took him a while to reach the spot where Beth had been standing, and he didn’t notice anything amiss apart from her absence. Hadn’t he specifically told her to wait there?
Obviously, she had given up and trudged all the way back towards the gate and the car, so he set off to jog back that way himself.
41
Beth didn’t even know if her words were registering with the man. He stared down at her intently as she continued to blurt out an explanation. ‘Please, I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to be here … I’ll go.’ And she managed to partially sit up, rolling over on to one elbow. His stance immediately altered and his arms went out wider, the knife in his hand. He was blocking her, preventing Beth from leaving.
‘Let me go,’ she pleaded. ‘I’ll get away from here.’ Without taking her eyes from the knife for a second, she pushed the palm of her hand against the mud and levered herself into a standing position. If he wanted to strike, he would do it now, while she was off balance, at her most vulnerable. She anticipated the blow, but he did not lunge for her.
Instead, she could see the doubt and suspicion in his eyes as Beth got to her feet and tried to adopt the least threatening posture she could manage, bending low to look smaller and holding her hands out where he could see them so he would know she didn’t have a weapon.
Their eyes locked then, and she wondered what madness lay behind his and whether it was strong enough for him to kill her out here in the woods without considering the consequences.
Beth took one tentative sideways step and, when he didn’t try to stab her, she took another, then a third. He mimicked her movements, but only with small turns so he could continue to face her. She couldn’t run back up the hill and she needed clear ground ahead if she was going to get away from this madman.
Two more steps, and they were still facing each other but there was a way out behind Beth now. She knew, if she turned and ran away, he might give chase. She was injured and would not be as fast as normal, but fear and adrenaline would propel her. It was risky, but Beth made her decision then.
She turned on her heel and ran.
Heart pounding, legs pumping, Beth raced through the glade as fast as her battered body would allow. The ground was bumpy and uneven and at any second she expected to trip and fall, or that the man with the knife would catch up with her and stab her in the back. Fear drove her and she ran hard for a minute without looking back, dodging round trees, stumbling but righting herself once more then continuing forward until she risked a turn and a fleeting look behind her. Beth was convinced she would see him then, inches from her, with the knife raised, ready to strike, but all she saw was the outline of trees that were little more than shadows now.
He was gone.
Beth ran at an even pace, regularly glancing behind and to each side in case he’d stalked her by some other route, but there was no further sign of him. Each sound from the woods rattled her, every broken twig caused her to start.
She tried not to panic at the thought of him pursuing her and concentrated on working out exactly where she was. How far astray had she gone, and how could she get back to the road? Where the hell was bloody Lucas?
Keep going Beth, she told herself. Ignore the pain and keep running.
It seemed to take Beth an age, but at last she managed to circle back across rough ground until she could see the lane they had walked along up ahead of her. This gave her a burst of hope and she ran more quickly now, eager to get on to it because the going would be easier and the gap above it, between the canopy of trees, would allow more light to guide her way.
Beth half ran, half stumbled as she burst out of the trees and on to the path. She immediately collided hard with a big, dark shape that was coming along the lane at speed and she hit the ground once more, rolling on to her back and putting her arms up to her face in an act of self-preservation as the figure loomed over her. It was Harry, and this time he was going to stab her to death!
Then, the shape spoke.
It wasn’t Harry. It was Lucas. She was not going to die.
‘Bloody hell.’ He sounded shocked at the sight of her dishevelled appearance. ‘What the hell happened to you?’
‘Christ, Lucas, you scared the crap out of me,’ she told him as he took her hand and hauled her to her feet.
‘Well, I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but I didn’t expect you to leap out of the trees at me like that.’
He clearly wanted an explanation, so she provided one, which included the fall, the knife and the shelter and ended with the words, ‘I’m sorry, I lost him,’ even though they both knew that wasn’t strictly true. Beth assumed he would be disappointed with her for not tackling Harry when she had the chance.
She was surprised when he said, ‘Not a good idea to try and disarm a man like that on your own. The main thing is you’re safe. Now, do you think you can show me where this shelter is?’
Beth managed to lead Black back to the spot where she had been pushed into the bushes and down the hill. He shone his torch into the glade below and they could just make out the shelter, but there was no sign of life.
‘Looks like he’s taken off,’ said Black, ‘but at least we’ve found his home.’ It seemed a strange word to describe the structure. ‘Once it gets light, we shouldn’t have too much difficulty tracking him down.’
‘What happens now?’
He surveyed Beth, then asked, �
�Are you sure you are okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ Beth assured him, though she was covered in cuts and bruises and in some pain.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Then let’s take a look.’
Black spotted a less treacherous route down the hill than the one Beth had been forced to take when she rolled heavily down it at speed, and they made their way slowly and carefully to the bottom, both keeping an eye out for any trace of the knife-wielding Harry as they went.
They did not expect to see Happy Harry sitting outside his shelter, but it was worth checking out his camp. He was, at the very least, a potential witness in the disappearance of Alice Teale and, judging by his violent reaction to Beth’s presence in his camp, possibly even the cause of it.
Harry’s shelter was as rudimentary as you’d expect of any structure made from scrounged materials. There was plastic sheeting, secured over a section of tarpaulin, to provide some protection from the rain. The tarpaulin hung down to make a rear wall. Sections of wood and corrugated iron made it into a three-sided structure with an open front. The remnants of an extinguished fire were visible between a pile of stones, and there were empty cans of beans and soup outside, along with bottles of beer and vodka, discarded once they had been drained of their contents.
Black peered in and saw a sleeping bag. It was in a disgusting state, but at least Harry had something to sleep in. His bed was an old wooden pallet and the tiny shelter was filled with all kinds of stolen or donated things: a plate, an old saucepan, a couple of blankets, an ancient army kit bag.
Then Black’s eyes settled something that was folded at the far end of the sleeping bag. Was Harry using this as a pillow?
The item looked new and in good condition. It was still relatively clean. Black squinted into the darkened shelter and realized it was a green parka with a fur-lined hood, like the one Alice Teale had been wearing on the night she disappeared.
While Black was still processing the likelihood of this being a coincidence, his eyes became fully accustomed to the gloom and he noticed another item hanging up by its straps at the rear of the shelter.
It was Alice Teale’s big, floppy bag.
42
The next morning, even the water from the shower hurt, stinging Beth as it landed on bruised and scraped skin. She ached all over. At least it hadn’t been for nothing, because Harry was now firmly at the centre of their investigation. Could there really be an innocent explanation for him having Alice Teale’s coat and bag in his possession? It was looking more and more likely that he was the one responsible for her death. At the very least, he had to know something about it.
A forensic examination of the items they had retrieved might soon complete the picture, but there were precious few clues from the bag or Alice Teale’s coat pockets. Crucially, her phone was still missing, as was the journal, but neither of them had expected that to be in Harry’s filthy hands. The mystery of who was sending them the journal pages remained just that, and the other contents consisted of mundane items: toiletries, stationery and schoolbooks.
As always, when Beth walked into the major-incident room, Lucas Black was already there. Did the man never sleep?
‘Have they had any luck tracking down Harry?’ she asked.
‘Not yet.’
His face betrayed his frustration, though Beth hadn’t expected the rough-sleeping Harry to have been picked up while he still had the cover of darkness. ‘He got hold of that bag and coat somehow, and maybe he killed for it. I want to find him before anyone else hears about it. If word gets out in the town, who knows what might happen.’
‘You reckon people might try and harm him?’
‘What do you think?’
It seemed likely, but she was surprised he was so concerned for Harry’s well-being, until he added: ‘We’re not going to get much out of him if he’s intercepted by an angry mob and beaten half to death.’
Other detectives and uniformed officers began to arrive then, and DS Black made sure they were all aware of the new developments in the case and the urgent need to find Harry. He was now priority number one.
Hearing this, Beth couldn’t help but torture herself, thinking about the night before. Though she was relieved to have survived her encounter with him, Harry slipping through their fingers like that was a particularly cruel blow. She kept wondering what she could have done differently and whether she should have attempted to disarm him and bring the man in, but he was big, looked strong and could easily have ended her life there and then with his blade.
‘We’ll get him,’ Black assured her, as if reading her mind. ‘Then maybe we’ll finally have some answers.’
‘I hope so. It’s been driving me crazy,’ she admitted. ‘This whole bloody case has. I keep thinking about the night when Alice vanished – that twenty-minute window beforehand and how she could just disappear like that when she walked between the cottages. I never really thought Harry was the answer, and I still don’t understand how he could have got rid of Alice’s body when he doesn’t even have a vehicle. Even if he had access to one, I doubt he could have driven it in a straight line for long.’
‘I’ve been going over that one, too,’ Black admitted. ‘On the one hand, how could he have Alice’s stuff if he didn’t take it from her or her body, but, like you say, he had no way of moving it more than a few yards on his own, let alone transporting it all the way to the coast. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who has accomplices either.’
‘Someone obviously did move her body, but how come no one saw them doing it? Just bad luck, I suppose. I thought that little red car might provide the answer, but no one has vouched for it or reported the driver since we put out the appeal. At one point, I thought Simon Nash or maybe Keech might have been waiting to pick her up outside the school, but neither of them drives a sporty little red car. Keech was seen on school premises after Alice left that night, and I checked his car. He drives a silver Astra.’
‘And what about Nash?’
‘A big blue Beemer,’ she said. ‘He told me when I interviewed him at the school.’
‘That could be the car that was seen at the old station. It might look black in the darkness. We should check that out properly.’
‘But it definitely wasn’t the car parked by the side of the road,’ she said. ‘That was red, and much smaller.’
Something made Black focus on that for a moment and he became lost in his thoughts.
‘Earth to Lucas,’ she said, and he realized he’d been so engrossed he hadn’t replied.
‘The car parked by the allotments was small’ – he frowned at his own observation – ‘but the one Simon Nash drives is big?’
‘Yes,’ said Beth. He was stating the obvious now, and Beth looked at him as if he had received a sudden sharp blow to the head that had affected his reasoning. ‘Why?’
‘When I interviewed Jessica Pearce about what she saw from the staff-room window I was focusing on what she told me about Alice. I remember she said Nash pulled away just as her fiancé arrived, as Alice Teale was walking away.’
‘Okay.’
‘She said that Simon Nash had to squeeze into his car. Is he tall?’
‘Above average, perhaps,’ she said, ‘but not very.’
‘That doesn’t sound like a big BMW to me.’
They both rose from their chairs at the same time and reached for their jackets. There was no need for communication between them. They both knew they were on their way to have another word with Simon Nash.
They got to the drama teacher’s form room during a free period so they spoke to him alone in his empty classroom. He expressed his shock and deep distress at the terrible news about Alice. ‘I can only imagine how awful it must be for her poor family,’ he said.
Beth introduced Black then explained they had some follow-up questions about Alice Teale. Before the teacher could respond, Black said, ‘Mostly, we want to know why you lied.’
‘Lied about what?’
‘Your ca
r,’ said Lucas. ‘The one you were driving the evening Alice Teale disappeared. You told my colleague here it was a big blue BMW 5 Series. In fact, you were driving a red Audi TT. Don’t lie about it. We just checked with Miss Pearce. She remembered because of your height. She said you struggled to get into it.’
Simon Nash looked worried then. ‘I suppose I might have been. I usually drive the Beemer, so I forgot.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘It’s not bullshit. I do normally drive the BMW, but it had to go in for a repair and it must have been that day, now you mention it. My fiancée took it in to be fixed and I drove her car, which is an Audi TT and, yes, it is red. I remember now. I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to mislead.’
‘Oh, I think it was,’ said Beth. ‘And I think you knew why it would be of interest to the police if you were driving a red car rather than a black one.’
‘I really don’t understand.’
‘Two witnesses saw a red car parked up by the allotments a short way from the school. It was described as sporty with tinted windows so you couldn’t see in, just like your fiancée’s Audi. They noticed it because it was blocking the lane and part of the path, so it looked as if someone was waiting inside. No one would leave their car blocking an access road like that.’
‘There are a lot of red cars in the north-east of England,’ Nash told them, and Black noticed he did not explicitly deny that he had parked the car there.
‘All we have to do is show the witnesses the car, or even a picture of it, and they are going to identify it,’ said Beth. ‘Chris saw it on his way up to meet Alice. You said you saw him near the town when you sped by, but you were sitting in that car when he walked round it, and it was much nearer the school. You can’t tell me there are lots of red Audi TT roadsters with tinted windows in this town. No one’s going to believe that, least of all a jury.’
Alice Teale is Missing Page 24
