Suddenly Jack was running across the field. ‘I’m frightened!’ Pale and shivering, he clung to Mike. ‘I want to go home!’
Trying desperately to stay calm for the children’s sake, Mike smiled at him. ‘All right, son.’ He spun round, looking for Susie. There was no sign of her. ‘Jack, where’s Susie?’
Tears streaming down his face, the boy only stared at him.
Panic began to set in. ‘Jack! Where’s your sister?’
Covering his face, Jack would not answer.
Mike took hold of his hand. ‘We have to find her!’ Going at a run towards the spot where he had last seen her, Mike called out her name. ‘Susie!’ The wind howled back at him. ‘Susie! Where are you? Call out to Daddy, sweetheart.’
His heart rose like a bird inside him when he heard her voice; faint and frightened, it rode the breeze and took him by surprise. ‘I’m here, Daddy… please, come and get me.’
‘Where?’ He spun round but could see nothing. ‘Susie! Tell me where you are, sweetheart. I can’t see you.’
Frantic, he searched everywhere. He ran between the trees; went up the hill and into the valley below… He called along the spinney edge, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Twice more she called out, and each time he followed the direction of her voice, but whenever he got near, the voice was further away.
Pausing to catch his breath, he took Jack by the shoulders, more scared than angry. ‘Jack, before the thunder, when I was counting and you were hiding, you and Susie were together, weren’t you?’
Tears still streaming down his face, Jack nodded.
‘When the thunder came and you ran back to me, was Susie still with you?’
Again, Jack nodded.
‘Where did she go?’
The sobbing increased. ‘The sky took her!’
Breathless with fear, Mike took a deep, painful gulp of air. ‘No. The sky did not take her. What happened, Jack?’
Jack was too distraught to speak.
‘All right, son. Don’t worry, we’ll find her.’ He pressed Jack close to him. ‘We’ll search once more. If we don’t find her this time, I’ll have to get help.’ His voice shook. ‘Dear God! Don’t let her come to any harm.’
Again, they went through the spinney and out across the field, searching every ditch. Still they could not find her.
But they could hear her, a plaintive, frightened voice crying in the wind, and when she cried, they cried.
Two long hours later, exhausted and desperate, Mike stopped searching. ‘I’ll take you home,’ he told Jack. ‘I have to get help.’
Back at the house, Mike let himself in. Going straight to the phone, he dialled the emergency services. When the voice at the other end asked which service he required, he quickly explained what had happened. Frustrated, he answered the questions as calmly and coherently as he could. All he could think of was Susie, out there all alone. ‘For God’s sake, hurry!’
When he put the phone down, he stood for a moment hunched and weary, his head bowed. Susie’s voice echoed in his brain – ‘I’m here, Daddy… I’m here.’
Kerry’s voice startled him. ‘Where on earth have you been?’ she demanded. ‘I was just about to come looking…’ Suddenly she noticed how bedraggled he was, and how Jack was quietly sobbing at the foot of the stairs. Instinctively she looked for Susie. ‘What’s happened, Mike?’ A sense of horror took hold of her. ‘Where’s Susie?’
‘She’s lost.’ Two simple, desolate words that struck the fear of God in her. For a second, the silence was unbearable. Then Kerry ran at him, hitting him with her fists. Holding her off, Mike tried to explain. ‘We were playing the hiding game… she was there, but we couldn’t find her… We couldn’t find her!’
Grabbing hold of Jack, she backed away. ‘Where is she, Mike? What have you done to my baby?’ Though her eyes were wild, her voice was ice-cold. ‘Bring her home, Mike. Or you’ll wish to God you’d never been born.’
16
Just when he thought he had got it all together, Mike’s world fell apart.
The search was relentless. With the whole town out to watch, police cordoned off the immediate area. The river was dredged, and every square inch for miles around was finger-searched. Overhead, helicopters scoured the area, and everyone who could walk or crawl volunteered to help.
Finally, they had to admit defeat; Susie Peterson had disappeared without trace.
Mike was taken in for questioning. Weary and sick with worry, he sat at the table and answered their questions. Over and over, he told them what had happened, and still they persisted. ‘What do you mean, you could hear her?’ They asked. ‘How could you hear her, Mike? She wasn’t there. Tell us again what happened, Mike. Were you and the boy within sight of each other the whole time?’
At one point, he stood up and screamed at them, ‘Do you think I imagined it all?’
‘Of course not,’ they said. ‘But you imagined it all before, didn’t you? There was a storm that day too. We never found the young couple.’
‘I did not imagine it,’ he insisted. ‘We could hear her, for God’s sake. Ask Jack!’
‘We’re asking you, Mike. What happened when you sent them to hide? Maybe you didn’t stay there counting… maybe you can’t remember. You’ve been ill before, you could be ill now. We’ve spoken to the doctor. He says a relapse is not out of the question. Think, Mike. Did you go after them? Did you go after Susie?’
Horrified, he stared at them, eyes bloodshot and heart breaking. ‘My God! You think I murdered her, don’t you?’
‘Did you?’
On and on it went, until he thought his brain would split in two. Finally, they let him go. ‘We’ll be watching you, Mike,’ they warned.
‘If it wasn’t for that boy’s statement, I’d nail him here and now.’ Sergeant Madison was desperate to prove that he had been right all along.
‘He’s not the one we want.’ Inspector Webb was older and wiser.
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Instinct.’ He had been up all night, scouring murder files and trying to put two and two together. ‘There’s nothing I can put my finger on yet,’ he murmured, ‘but Mike Peterson is not the one, I’d bet my pension on it.’ All the same, he hoped he wouldn’t have to.
They couldn’t prove anything against Mike, especially as Jack had confirmed his story. Yet Madison still suspected him. So did Kerry. She moved out and took Jack with her. ‘Don’t come after me,’ she warned.
And, knowing their marriage was over, he didn’t. Instead he spent his lonely days wandering the valley, calling out for his lost daughter. Each night he wandered home, weary and broken. He didn’t sleep. How could he sleep when he knew she was out there somewhere. And always the inspector’s words came back to haunt him: ‘Are you sure you didn’t follow her? Maybe you can’t remember.’
And Kerry’s cutting words: ‘What have you done to my baby?’
For the first time ever, he began to ask himself if he really was mad.
Stubbing out his cigarette on the heel of his shoe, Sergeant Madison took a deep breath. ‘They’ve told us nothing that we didn’t know before, sir.’ He threw the stub in the wastepaper bin.
At that moment Matron swept in. Sniffing the air, she glared from one to the other. ‘This is a hospital!’ she informed them stiffly. ‘We don’t allow smoking here.’
When Inspector Webb humbly apologised, Madison knew he would pay the price later.
‘I believe we still have two more nurses to see.’ Webb ran his finger down the list. ‘Nurses Jenkins and Barker.’
‘I’ll send them in one at a time,’ Matron said. ‘After that, I hope you can leave us in peace. The patients have been disrupted enough. It isn’t good for them to see police all over the place.’ With that she flounced out.
‘How can we be all over the place,’ Madison muttered, ‘when there’s only two of us?’ A swift scowl shut him up.
Nurses Jenkins and Barker knew no more than
anyone else. ‘Have you no idea at all where Alice Henshaw might have gone?’ Inspector Webb asked them.
‘I got on all right with her,’ Jenkins said, ‘but I didn’t really know her outside the hospital.’
Nurse Barker said the same. ‘She could be a funny devil if things didn’t go her way, and she was a bit too pally with the patients, but she was a good nurse. I’ve never seen anyone more dedicated.’
‘What now?’ asked Madison.
‘Back to the station. There are a couple of things I need to check.’
‘You’re checking Peterson’s statement again, is that it?’
‘Wrong. I’ve already been through it with a fine-tooth comb.’
And if Madison thought he had escaped having his knuckles rapped, he was wrong again, because all the way back to the station he was lectured on everything from his manners to his habits.
Back at the office, Inspector Webb reported to his superior.
Needless to say, the chief inspector was not too pleased. ‘What the devil have you been doing?’ he wanted to know. ‘Henshaw has to be found. She’s out there, planning God knows what, while you’re chasing your tail and getting nowhere!’ Before he dismissed Webb, he warned him, ‘Your neck’s on the line. Step up the hunt, widen the search. Whatever needs doing, bloody well get on and do it!’
Downstairs, Madison was chatting up the new recruit who had been put in charge of postage distribution. She was a friendly, pretty young thing. ‘There’s one here without a stamp, Sergeant,’ she said, holding out the long, official-looking envelope.
Taking it from her, he grimaced. ‘It’s covered in chip fat or something just as disgusting!’ He read the handwritten address: ‘To whoevers in charg, The Police Dipartment, Bridport, Dorset.’ He grunted. ‘No stamp, and this one can’t spell. We get a lot of these. They’re mostly nutters.’ Not for the first time, he observed her long, slim legs. ‘I wouldn’t waste your time on it,’ he said, ‘but you can waste time on me any day.’
The inspector’s voice right behind him startled him. ‘It might be a better idea if you stopped wasting your time!’ he bellowed. ‘I’ve just been told my neck’s on the line. Well, I’ve got news for you, Sergeant. So is yours! Move yourself. We’ve got work to do.’
A short time later, the postal clerk came rushing into Webb’s office. ‘Please, sir, I think you ought to see this…’ She had a letter in her hand, and her hand was trembling.
‘What is it?’ He took it from her.
‘It came this morning… no stamp. The sergeant said you get a lot of them…’ She had tears in her eyes. ‘I nearly threw it away… then I read it, and wondered if it was a prank.’ Breathless, she watched him read. ‘I don’t think it’s a prank, sir, I think it’s the real thing.’
The inspector wasn’t listening.
As Webb read the letter, his face drained of colour. ‘Good God Almighty!’ He hurried out of the office. ‘So the sergeant told her to throw it away, did he? The bloody fool!’
Old Mrs Lewis was walking her dog when the cars screamed up the road. ‘Good Lord above, whatever’s going on?’ Taking the dog in her arms, she moved closer to the hedge. ‘It’s the police!’ The sight of police down here was rare.
Within minutes they had broken in; the first officer reeled back, his hands over his mouth. ‘Jesus! What’s that awful stench?’
In the hallway, Inspector Webb threw back the curtains. ‘Can’t see a bloody hand in front here.’ Opening the windows, he took a breath of fresh air. Advising caution, he moved forward with his men. ‘Easy now.’ There was no telling what they might find. He had an idea what the stench was. Long years in the force got a man used to certain things.
But he wasn’t used to the sight that greeted him now, the sight of two people, mutilated and left to rot. ‘God rest their souls.’ Discreetly, he made the sign of the cross. ‘Upstairs!’ he told the men. ‘Search the house from top to bottom, and when you’ve finished there, mount a search party round the area – though I should think the bastard’s long gone by now,’ he added to himself.
He was right. She was long gone.
But the letters were there, hidden around the house; even one under the floorboards. ‘Look here, sir.’ Sergeant Madison had unearthed a small tin box. Inside was a small amount of money, a number of documents and a copy of the same desperate letter that was sent to the police.
‘As nasty a business as I’ve ever seen,’ the doctor murmured to Webb. Pointing to the man, he said, ‘A swift blow to the back of the head… I think the post-mortem will show he died instantly.’
Webb looked at the other one. ‘What about her?’
He shook his head. ‘Slow and agonising, I should say.’
On the strength of what they found in the house, particularly the damning letters, there was no doubt of the murderer’s identity.
* * *
Nurse Sally Jenkins was duly arrested and charged with the murder of her parents. She also confessed to three other murders: those of Eddie Johnson; Dr Carlton; and more recently Steve Palmer.
Despite endless questioning, she remained adamant that she had had nothing to do with Susie’s disappearance. ‘If she’s dead it was somebody else who killed her, not me.’
For her dreadful crimes she was committed indefinitely to a safe institution for the criminally insane.
The inspector and his sergeant found themselves a corner table in the bar. Over a cool, refreshing lager, Sergeant Madison admitted he had been wrong. ‘To think Jenkins killed five people.’ Even now he could not fully understand it. ‘I don’t suppose we’ll ever know the whole story behind it all.’
‘She killed all those people… her parents; Eddie Johnson; Dr Carlton, and Steve Palmer… all because of Mike Peterson… because he bore a resemblance to her real father. In a way you were right all along.’
‘How’s that, sir?’ Compliments! He could hardly believe it.
‘You said every murder was linked to Mike Peterson. But as we now know, he wasn’t the guilty one. As far as we can tell, his only crime was to be the image of Jenkins’s real father. When she first saw him, she got this crazy notion in her warped mind that he was very special, and had to be protected.’
‘Her real father was hardly a saint though, was he?’
‘No. He was a drunk and a bastard. He couldn’t cope when his wife died and he was left to look after Sally on his own. He heard how the Jenkins were desperate for a child so he sold his daughter for the price of a ticket to America. It was all written down, by their own hand, and in the diary handed in by Rosie Sharman.’
‘That diary!’ Madison blew out his cheeks. ‘Whew! What she did to that innocent couple was beyond belief.’
‘I agree, but they weren’t all that innocent, were they? I mean, they did take her from her father and kept the truth from her, for many years. Bad though he was, they did her a terrible wrong. But they should not have had to pay for it the way they did.’ He shuddered. ‘And then to drive back to the nurses’ quarters, covered in their blood. Then to calmly wash the clothes in the machine as if it was an ordinary wash day.’
‘And poor Mavis, happening to see her when she buried the long coat.’
‘But at least she’s on the mend. Not like the others.’
‘And yet the Jenkins showed her nothing but kindness and love. Hardly seems fair, does it?’
‘Not when you think how she made them suffer the way she did, poisoning their food just enough to make them ill, drowning their pet dog, threatening to tell the authorities how they had stolen her. She made them her prisoners. She hated them so much, it turned her mind. They were the enemy in every sense of the word, and she had to control them, whatever it took. Hatred. Revenge. Terrible, powerful emotions.’
‘But why kill Eddie Johnson?’
‘Because she was watching Rosie Sharman. She’d noticed Rosie hanging about the hospital and she knew an auburn-haired woman was somehow involved in Mike’s breakdown. She was afraid Rosie migh
t harm Mike. And you heard what Rosie Sharman said in court – she and Eddie had a terrible row that night. Well, I think Jenkins was watching Rosie and when Eddie Johnson went out to get Mike, he was carrying a knife, remember? She wasn’t about to let him harm Mike, so there’s your motive.’
‘OK. What about Dr Carlton?’
‘That’s an easy one. He discharged Mike, and she didn’t like it. She wanted him where she could keep an eye on him at the hospital.’
‘And Steve Palmer?’
‘Steve Palmer and Kerry Peterson were having an affair – we know that now. Sally Jenkins was sure that Peterson’s wife would leave him for Palmer, and she couldn’t let that happen. She needed to know that he was being looked after. She just couldn’t stand by and see Peterson’s wife desert him for another man.’
‘You know, when you look at it like that, it’s so simple.’
‘To a crazy mind, you mean.’
Madison laughed. ‘Maybe.’
Inspector Webb lapsed into deep thought. ‘You know, I would have sworn she took Peterson’s daughter.’
‘She confessed to everything else, why not that?’
‘God knows. All I know is we still haven’t found her. It’s as if she’s vanished from the face of the earth.’
‘Peterson hasn’t come out of this unscathed either. He’s let his business go, and he wanders about like a soul in torment. Locals say he’s down the valley every day, calling for her.’ Madison shook his head. ‘He’s got nothing now except the roof over his head and a weekly cheque from the social.’ His voice softened with regret. ‘In a way I’m sorry I hounded him now.’
‘You’ve changed your tune, haven’t you? After all, we don’t know for sure that he didn’t murder that little girl, do we?’
17
The following summer, Rosie went looking for Mike in the valley where she knew he spent most of his time. He was seated on an upturned log at the foot of the valley.
Hiding Game, The Page 20
