The Death of Her

by Debbie Howells

‘Then call Newquay. Tell them we need backup.’ Jack was raising his voice. Sara knew the drill. He shouldn’t have to tell her, least of all now, when time was running out.

  ‘Underwood’s just walked in.’

  ‘Perfect,’ Jack said. ‘Tell him about Miller. Tell him I told you to tell him. And find someone else to go to the Pascoes’.’ Then he hung up.

  The uneasy feeling was back. Not just letting him know something was wrong, but twisting, screaming at him. What if more police were involved? How did he know Miller didn’t have an accomplice? Like Underwood? What if Sara was involved too? What if she hadn’t called for backup, if Abbie was on her way to the Pascoes’ farm alone and Xander was waiting for her?

  His hands were sweaty as he tried to tell himself he was being paranoid, that Underwood was a good officer. But it wasn’t helping. Right now, he couldn’t trust anyone.

  Just then, his phone buzzed. Jack glanced at it, wondering if it was Abbie, but it was Sara again. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Sir, I’ve just had a call from the Forensics team at the site in the woods. It’s about that third grave. The remains have been there a long time. They’re not saying how long exactly, but it’s more than a few years.’

  ‘Did they say any more about the victim?’

  Sara’s words seemed to fill the car. ‘Only that it’s a child.’

  ‘Thank you, Sara.’ Jack’s mind was racing. ‘Let me know if you hear anything else.’ Thank God the remains had been there too long to belong to Evie’s daughter. Was it possible that, after all this time, they’d at last found the body of Leah Danning?

  45

  Evie

  She’d had the strangest dream. She’d been walking, along a stony farm track. It was definitely winter, the sky overcast, the trees bare, when she’d noticed a honeysuckle flowering at the roadside, not the isolated sprig you might expect at this time of year, but a swathe of it, tumbling over the hedge. A splash of colour and scent against the stark landscape.

  As she looked around, suddenly it was as though it was spring. Either side of her, tiny flowers were emerging through the straggly autumn grass – little stars of white wood anemones and yellow celandine, primroses, mayflower, tiny scabious, daisies – their buds slowly opening until they formed an avenue of colour either side of her. It was extraordinary, magical; it made no sense.

  Then she’d heard the birds, to her amazement seeing the hedges full of them, their song deafening.

  It was late afternoon when she woke up and saw the crow. Its presence unnerved her. She’d wandered into the kitchen to make a cup of tea when she noticed it just outside the back door. Pausing to admire the oily sheen on its feathers, she watched it fly up and try to perch on the windowsill. Unable to get a grip, fluttering its wings to hold itself there, it pecked at the glass, its round eyes staring sharply into hers.

  It was most un-birdlike behaviour. Then she noticed it was holding something in its beak.

  There was a churning feeling in her stomach as, grabbing a slice of bread, she hurried outside and sat on the doorstep. But before she could tear off a piece of bread and toss it in the direction of the bird, it hopped over and dropped something in front of her.

  It was tiny. She picked it up, holding the small stone between her fingers, noticing it wasn’t a stone at all. It was a bead. The crow had brought her a bead.

  ‘Thank you.’ She lobbed a piece of the bread towards it, but the bird ignored it, turned round and flew away.

  She looked at the bead more closely, rubbing away the light dusting of dried mud and making out the letter on it. In pink. An E.

  Her mind froze. For several minutes, she sat there, staring at it, as more birds came into the garden. She threw the remaining bread for them, then went back inside to fetch the rest of the loaf.

  As she sat on the doorstep again, another crow landed on the grass then hopped towards her, not the slightest bit afraid. The same crow? Her heart missed a beat as it dropped another bead in front of her. An L. It was pushed aside by another crow carrying another bead. This time an A.

  Slowly, she realized she recognized the beads. They were from one of those little bracelets made of thin stretchy elastic and bearing a name, that small children wear sometimes. She needed an N and a G. She willed the crows to bring them to her, tears pouring down her cheeks, the outpouring of weeks of uncertainty, of not trusting herself, as she tore up the remaining slices of bread, scattering the pieces for the birds as more flew down from the trees. There were dozens of them – blackbirds, thrushes, sparrows, finches and the crows, of course – their sounds combining to create an orchestra of birdsong.

  Suddenly, she was aware of all their eyes on her. Getting up, she ran inside to find her phone. Instead of sharing her excitement that, at last, she had tangible proof that Angel was real, Abbie sounded flustered when Evie told her about the beads.

  ‘Is anyone with you?’ Abbie asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Someone’s on their way over. Stay in the house, Evie. Don’t let anyone in.’

  ‘Why? What’s happened, Abbie?’ The DI sounded worried. Evie needed to know what was going on.

  But Abbie cut her short. ‘I’m really sorry, Evie. I can’t talk now. I have to be somewhere.’

  Then she was gone, leaving Evie shaking with disappointment and fear. Why was someone on their way over? Was she in danger? Or had there been another murder? She’d never heard Abbie talk like that.

  But she knew she couldn’t stay in the house. The beads meant something, she was sure of it. It was possible they weren’t Angel’s. With a sinking feeling she realized that it could be an H that was missing. They could be Leah’s.

  Suddenly her head felt like it was spinning. She must know who took Leah all those years ago. All the pieces were there, floating in her head, just out of reach. Then she heard a car coming up the track towards her house. From what Abbie had said, once the police had arrived, they weren’t going to let her go anywhere.

  She had to get out, right now. Grabbing her jacket, she put the beads in her pocket, along with her phone, then closing the door quietly behind her, ran down the garden into the woods.

  Walking fast, she chose the opposite direction from where she’d found the graves. She didn’t want to think about them. Instead, she needed to follow this sixth sense that seemed to have taken her mind over; telling her to keep going, along this path, until it met open fields, where, if you looked into the distance, you could see the sea.

  So often the woods were quiet, but today they were alive with birds, rabbits, squirrels. Through the trees, she saw a group of deer, all of them raising their heads to watch her, instead of turning to run away. And all the time, there was a voice whispering to her. The same voice that so often had told her to trust no one, was telling her to keep going. Somewhere behind her, she heard a dog bark. Beamer? She wished he was with her, running at her side. If she’d had time, she’d have asked Jack if she could borrow him. But she hadn’t.

  She knew something about Leah Danning. The day the little girl had disappeared, she had seen something. Reaching the fields, she climbed the stile and dropped down onto the grass. It was damp, the ground soft underfoot from all the rain they’d had. Across the field, the sheep ignored her, as she started striding along the footpath. Then she heard her phone ring.

  Pulling it out of her pocket, Abbie’s number was displayed on the screen.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Evie? Are you all right? Where are you?’

  ‘I’m fine. I had to go out, Abbie. It’s the beads. They mean something. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Evie . . .’ Abbie hesitated. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you, but Forensics found a third grave. It’s years old – but they’ve found a child’s body. You need to go home and stay there, Evie. You’ll be safe there . . .’

  ‘I’m not going, Abbie. I’ve listened to what everyone’s said for too long. I’m making my own decisions now.’

  ‘Please go back to the house. Jack’
s there and PC Evans is on her way.’

  She hadn’t taken to PC Evans – Sara. The officer had no feelings, no empathy.

  ‘I can’t, Abbie. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Evie, you’re in danger. We think Xander Pascoe’s after you.’

  ‘Why?’ She screamed down the phone. ‘What have I done?’

  ‘You know something—’ Evie hung up, turning her phone to silent as she walked faster, her optimism tainted by Abbie’s call. She looked towards the greying skies, the distant sea, which was a murky colour rather than its usual clear blue.

  Whatever she knew about Leah was connected to Xander. Why the feelings of shame when she thought of him? She pictured his mean eyes and his cruel mouth. Remembered his hands on her, his lips on hers. Felt herself shudder. Did that happen? If it did, when?

  As she reached the other side of the field, she climbed another stile onto a narrow lane. Which way? A robin flew past her and, without thinking, she followed it, until it darted off to the side. She kept walking, focused on the lane ahead of her, until a splash of colour caught her eye.

  Bluebells? It couldn’t be. They never flowered in October, and certainly not in open grass at the side of a lane. A breath of their hyacinth scent reached her. There was no mistaking them.

  Suddenly she was reminded of her dream. She’d been walking somewhere – not dissimilar to this. Walking more slowly, she scrutinized the roadside for more out-of-season flowers, but this wasn’t the dream. It was Cornwall in October.

  The lane sloped uphill, then went round a corner, where she came to a crossroads. There were no signposts. Unsure which road to take, she walked straight ahead for a few yards before the same instinct that had brought her this far forced her back.

  As she stood in the middle of the crossroads, she noticed some twigs in bud. Then a robin swooped past her again, followed by another, making the decision for her. She broke into a run.

  The track was like the one in her dream. Stony, fit only for tractors and farm vehicles. She had no idea where she was. She must have been walking for two hours. The sky had got darker, more menacing. In her head, thoughts were pushing to the forefront, then vanishing before she could give them words.

  Leah and Angel. Were they the same person? Were her memories of Angel just the dreams she’d had for the baby she lost, or had she been right all along and someone had taken her child? She still didn’t have the answers, but they were getting closer.

  She wasn’t questioning what she was doing here. Instead, she was thinking about the attack. Was it to do with Leah’s disappearance? It would explain what Abbie had just said, why someone was still after her.

  She should call someone. Taking out her phone, she saw a list of missed calls from Abbie. But it wasn’t Abbie whom Evie wanted to speak to. She found his number.

  ‘Jack?’

  ‘Where are you Evie?’ He sounded worried. ‘I can hardly hear you. Abbie’s been trying to call you. Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine. It’s the birds, Jack – hundreds of birds. You should see them . . .’ It was true. There was a whole flock of them, circling above her.

  ‘Tell me where you are.’

  ‘I don’t know. I walked across the field we came to the first time we walked together – do you remember? Where you could see the sea?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It comes to a lane. I turned right and followed it to a crossroads, then I turned right again. I’m on a farm track now.’

  ‘I think I know where you are. Evie?’ Jack paused. ‘Has your cat come back?’

  Why was he asking about her cat? ‘Not yet. Why?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Can you stay where you are? At least till I get there.’

  ‘Don’t tell Abbie . . .’ she started, but he’d already gone.

  Ignoring his instructions to wait for him, she kept walking. She hoped he wouldn’t tell Abbie. Abbie would make her go home and wait in that house that had become a prison. She stopped. The track had come to an end. Ahead, there was a rusted farm gate. On the other side there was a collection of derelict farm buildings. Looking around and seeing no sign of anyone, she climbed over.

  It was as if she’d crossed over to a place where there were no birds. Not a single out-of-season flower. It was deathly quiet, the air heavy with expectation and menace. Her skin prickled as she thought of what Abbie had said, imagining Xander Pascoe somehow waiting for her. She took a tentative step forward, as quietly as she could on the loose stones.

  As she made for the first of the buildings, her unease was building. There was an air of decay, menace. The first building she came to was filled with rusting farm machinery that looked as though it hadn’t been used in years. She moved on to the next, a smaller barn, tentatively pushing the heavy door open and peering inside, but it was empty.

  There were a couple of loose animal boxes, their doors swung open, the bedding left from when they were last occupied. Then she came to another barn, but this time it was locked.

  Her hands were tingling, her nerves on edge. The sound of footsteps reached her ears, some distance away, coming closer. Looking around for somewhere to hide, she saw only an old water butt buried in a patch of weeds.

  Crouched behind it, she watched as a man’s figure came into sight – then breathed a sigh of relief. It was Jack.

  Slowly she stood up. He saw her, an expression of relief washing over his face as he hurried towards her.

  ‘God, Evie. Are you all right?’

  Before she could answer, his arms were round her. As the tension left her body, she could feel the warmth of his, and for the first time in as long as she could remember, she was aware that she was safe. But she pulled away.

  ‘Jack, there’s a barn. It’s locked. We need to look inside. There’s something weird going on here.’

  But he took her arm. ‘Evie, I think the strain has got to you. Let me give you a lift home. My car’s over there.’ He nodded towards the rusty gate she’d climbed over.

  ‘Not yet.’ She couldn’t go until she’d checked the barn. ‘It’s locked. I need you to help me.’

  He didn’t say anything, just stood there, looking worried. ‘I’m not breaking into any barn, Evie. I’ve come to take you home.’

  Then she remembered the beads, and, fishing in her pocket, pulled them out one by one.

  ‘Look.’ She was desperate for him to understand. She was terrified of what the beads could mean, but she couldn’t ignore them.

  ‘A, E, L.’ He held them in the palm of his hand, then he looked at her.

  ‘If I don’t look inside this barn, I’ll never know,’ she pleaded. ‘Just this one, and then we’ll go.’

  He hesitated, then nodded. ‘OK.’

  Jack inspected the padlock, then looked around and found a metal bar, which he used to force the door open. ‘I can’t find my phone.’ He looked worried. ‘I probably left it in my car. Wait here, Evie. Don’t go in until I’m back.’

  But she couldn’t wait. She knew, as she watched him disappear out of sight, that even minutes could mean the difference between life and death.

  Other than the strip of dim light where the door was open, it was completely dark inside the barn. Using the torch on her phone, she shone the beam around. Mostly it was empty space, the old timbers hanging with cobwebs, but at one end there was a crudely built wall, with a door.

  She was walking towards it when she became aware of someone walking behind her. Spinning round, she expected to see Jack, not this person. This was someone who didn’t belong here. She heard herself gasp.

  ‘Hello, Jen.’

  It was as if she was caught in another of her dreams. What was Charlotte doing here? She looked different, not at all like the cool, confident Charlotte who’d been to her house. There was a wild, manic look in her eyes, as they darted around the barn. As she took a step nearer, from the strip of light at the door, Evie saw she was holding a knife.

  Evie took a step back. ‘What are you doing?’ Her voi
ce was shaking, but she needed to keep Charlotte talking, buy herself time, until Jack came back.

  ‘You can’t be surprised. Or have you really forgotten?’ Charlotte’s eyes were vicious, her words like venom as she spat them out. ‘How could you, Jen? How could you be so happy, in your pretty house with your pretty little daughter, when it was your fault that Leah died.’

  ‘I didn’t hurt Leah.’ Edging away, Evie was shaking her head.

  ‘Liar!’ The word pierced the darkness. ‘If you hadn’t been there, it wouldn’t have happened. I told everyone, but no one believed me. They believed you.’

  ‘But you weren’t there, don’t you remember?’ Or had she been? Something in Charlotte’s voice triggered a memory, and in that split second, Evie knew this wasn’t Charlotte Harrison.

  ‘It wasn’t my fault.’ Evie tried to keep her voice calm as the memories came flooding back, a tidal wave of them, hitting her all at once. ‘Someone else took Leah. I was distracted – I shouldn’t have been, I know that.’ It had been a set-up, Evie knew that now. Xander Pascoe had been at the Dannings’ house that morning. She could remember being flattered by the way he was flirting with her. How she’d flirted back, when she should have been keeping her eyes on Leah. How shocked she was when he kissed her. That awful, terrifying moment when she’d realized Leah was gone, she’d never forget it again.

  Hearing another movement from outside, praying it was Jack, she stood her ground. ‘You always needed someone else to blame, didn’t you, for the way your parents treated you, for the way you behaved. But that wasn’t anyone else’s fault, Casey. It was yours.’

  As Evie spoke her name, Casey’s eyes glittered. Evie could remember them now. Casey and Charley, both with long dark hair and a disregard for everything and everyone. At the time, she’d disliked both of them. She should have seen her mistake, but so much time had passed they’d become entwined in her head, confusion compounding her memory loss.

  ‘You gave yourself away. It was you who helped Sophie with her French homework, not Charlotte. That’s the thing that didn’t ring true, that I couldn’t make sense of.’ More and more was falling into place. Evie stared at her, aghast. ‘You were there. The day Leah disappeared. You were supposed to be away, but you came back.’ Her mouth fell open. ‘I saw you.’