Lost Voyage

by Pauline Rowson

  ‘Where shall I take you?’ she said as though reading his thoughts.

  ‘To your home.’

  She flashed him a glance. The alarm was back in her eyes.

  ‘You’ll need to collect some things. It won’t be safe for you and Charlie to stay there.’

  ‘Look, is this really necessary?’

  ‘Yes. Tell me what happened with Stephen. What did he say when he called you?’

  She indicated on to the main road. ‘He asked me to meet him at Meryl’s house. He said she had sent him a text to say she was on her way home and was sorry for alarming him. There was something she wanted to talk to him about.’

  ‘Only him, not you?’

  ‘That’s what Stephen said but he told me he wanted me there.’

  ‘Why?’ Marvik asked sharply, checking the wing mirror. There was a white van behind them but it didn’t look as though it was tailing them.

  ‘He said it was about time we all discussed matters and it was important that I also heard what Meryl had to say.’

  ‘Did he say what matters?’

  ‘No.’

  There was a slight flush under her skin that betrayed her thoughts. She’d considered the fact that her husband wanted to expose her affair with Bradshaw in front of her mother-in-law.

  ‘We argued. I accused him of being scared of mummy and wasn’t it about time he stood up for himself. He said that was exactly what he was doing. I reminded him I was working but he said that I had a lunch break and with Ian dead no one was going to sack me for taking some extra time out. He told me to be there. He sounded different.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Upset, disturbed. I was worried about Charlie. I said I’d go.’

  Did Stephen have some sixth sense that he was walking into a deadly trap? But if so why involve his wife? The van stayed behind them.

  Karen continued, ‘When I got to the house, there was no sign of his car or Meryl’s. I let myself in and called out. There was no answer, then Charlie started crying. I raced up the stairs to find him in his cot. Stephen had just left him,’ she added angrily and disbelievingly. ‘I tried to comfort Charlie while I thought what to do. I wondered if Stephen had taken the car to the cliffs and done something stupid. Perhaps Meryl had gone after him. I didn’t know what to think, then you showed up.’

  ‘I don’t think Stephen went voluntarily,’ Marvik said quietly.

  She flashed him a frightened glance before quickly putting her eyes back on the road. Her skin had paled and her hands gripping the steering wheel whitened. The van turned right. A dark blue Mercedes was now behind them with a fair-haired woman at the wheel.

  Marvik said, ‘The text from Meryl was a hoax designed to get Stephen to the house with the intention of abducting him, probably, as Meryl has been abducted. Are you OK to drive?’

  She nodded grimly.

  ‘Whoever did so couldn’t have seen Stephen arrive with your son. Stephen, finding no sign of his mother or her car, got suspicious. He took Charlie upstairs and put him in his cot, then perhaps crossing to the window he saw someone watching the house or someone walking up the drive.’ And was that someone he knew? wondered Marvik. ‘Stephen went down to meet this person, was forced into his car and told to drive away. He had no choice and he certainly wasn’t going to tell this person about Charlie being in the house and you on your way. But he might be persuaded to talk. His abductor will see that he called you on his mobile unless Stephen wiped his call log clean beforehand. I need to get you and Charlie to safety.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Stephen knows about your affair – no, I didn’t tell him but under pressure he’ll tell his abductor about it and that puts you in danger. This person might believe you know about Ian Bradshaw’s past and what he was involved in.’

  ‘But I don’t,’ she insisted. ‘This is mad. It can’t be happening.’

  ‘How far now?’

  ‘What? Not far. We live on the western outskirts in Old Town.’

  No one had followed them. ‘You can’t stay in the house. Stephen or Meryl will tell them where you live. I can’t leave you there, Karen. You and Charlie need to go somewhere no one knows about, not to your friends or family. I can get you to a hotel.’ But even then the killer could check out the hotels and bed-and-breakfast places. ‘You’ll have to stay put inside until I tell you it’s safe.’

  ‘Why don’t we call the police?’

  ‘Because they can’t protect you.’

  ‘Why not?’ she demanded.

  ‘You have to trust me, Karen,’ he added solemnly and earnestly. When she still looked doubtful, he said, ‘Ian Bradshaw is dead. His throat was cut in a brutal murder. Gavin Yardly has also been killed, his body dumped at the bottom of a cliff. Your mother-in-law contacted Ian Bradshaw shortly before his death and after Gavin Yardly had confronted her about the loss of the Mary Jo. Now she has gone missing, along with your husband. I’m trying to find out why Bradshaw and Gavin Yardly were killed. That’s all I can tell you.’

  She pulled up at a set of traffic lights.

  ‘If you stay in your own home I can’t protect you and neither can the police.’

  Maybe she saw something in his eyes or heard his sincerity. She took a breath and nodded.

  Marvik breathed a silent sigh of relief. ‘Tell me when we’re close to your house.’

  He needed to dump this ruddy great signpost of a car with Medlowes sprawled all over it. They were a sitting target. And there was one place he could dump it, or rather two: one was outside the office, the other outside Karen’s house. He’d plumped for the latter. Both might be being watched if this killer had resources, but would he have got there or sent someone there this quick? Possibly. Marvik hoped not. He asked her for any landmarks close to the house.

  ‘It’s just past the recreation ground.’

  As Karen negotiated the residential streets, Marvik consulted his Ordnance Survey map and found where her house was situated. Charlie had fallen asleep. Marvik instructed her to park where she usually did, which was across the road from the small end-of-terrace house. He checked the road for any sign of a suspicious vehicle or motorbike cruising, or any vehicles parked with darkened windows, or a man or men sitting in them. There didn’t appear to be anyone watching the Landguards’ modern house but he wasn’t going to take any chances. Marvik was out of the car before Karen and, releasing the harness on the child seat, he lifted Charlie, who stirred but didn’t wake. It was mid-afternoon.

  Marvik nodded at Karen to head for the house. She let them in. So far, so good. No one was watching the house and it hadn’t been broken into. The killer, though, would get Stephen’s keys from him. Marvik didn’t think there had been time for that yet but it would be close. Karen’s mobile phone rang, startling her.

  ‘It’s Danny at the office. He’s probably wondering where I am.’ She made to answer it but Marvik prevented her.

  ‘Switch it off,’ he commanded. She hesitated for a second, then did so. Marvik said, ‘Your location can be traced and from now on we don’t want that.’ Her face was drawn. ‘Have you got a rucksack and a baby harness, the type I can put on my back?’

  ‘Yes, it’s in the utility room.’

  ‘Pack some things for both of you for a few days. Put on some warm clothing and flat shoes, walking boots or trainers, and a rain jacket.’

  ‘We’re walking?’ she asked, dazed.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But the car—’

  ‘It’s too easily recognized. Get some warm clothes for Charlie.’ Marvik still had hold of the child. ‘Be as quick as you can. Pull the curtains in your bedroom and in Charlie’s and switch on the light.’ When it grew dark hopefully the killer would believe Karen and her son were in the house.

  But she paused on the stairs. ‘There is somewhere we could go. It’s a small, two-bedroomed cottage just outside the village of Jevington. It’s not far from here. It’s a holiday let, one of the few we have on our books. It was Ian’s late
st business venture. No one’s booked in it for the next fortnight. I can turn on the water and the heating but I haven’t got the keys – they’re in the office.’

  Lack of keys wouldn’t pose a problem for Marvik.

  ‘Does it belong to Bradshaw?’

  ‘No. The owners live in London.’

  ‘We’ll head there.’

  She ran up the stairs. Marvik entered the lounge and put Charlie down on the sofa. He stirred and moaned but didn’t wake. Marvik crossed to the window and surveyed the road from behind the curtain. Everything looked in order. Removing his Ordnance Survey map from his rucksack, he again swiftly consulted it while listening for noises outside and from upstairs. He found the village of Jevington. It lay about five miles by road and four miles by foot over the South Downs.

  His ears pricked up at the sound of a car driving slowly past. He heard it pull over and the engine running softly. It could be nothing. On the other hand … He looked out, making sure to keep behind the edge of the curtains and out of sight. There was a high wall in front of the modern end-of-terrace house screening the road. He couldn’t see the vehicle.

  He could hear Karen moving about upstairs. Stuffing the map back in his rucksack, he went through to the kitchen where he opened the fridge, extracted cheese, some ham, butter, milk, a bottle of water and a small orange juice and thrust them into his rucksack. Next, he opened the cupboards and found some tins of baby food, beans and tuna. These, along with a packet of biscuits, half a loaf of bread, some tea bags and a small jar of instant coffee, he pushed into his bag. He hoped that he could find a shop or farm shop close to the cottage to buy more food. But in case he couldn’t, this would keep them going.

  Then he made for the utility room and unlocked the back door. It was raining again but not heavily. There was a side gate to his left. From the hook in the small lobby he removed a rain jacket – Stephen Landguard’s. He also retrieved the baby carrier.

  Returning to the hall, he called up to Karen to hurry. Then he lifted Charlie into the harness and draped Stephen Landguard’s waterproof around and over him. He was already dressed in outdoor clothes. It would be awkward carrying that and his rucksack but the latter he quickly adapted to wear over his chest after taking out the Ordnance Survey map and encasing it in the plastic holder, which he lifted over his head so that he could easily read it while walking. He pulled the curtains and switched on a table lamp and the television set.

  Karen appeared in the doorway, carrying a large black rucksack and wearing jeans, trainers, a rain jacket and a scarf.

  ‘Ready?’ Marvik asked.

  She nodded. Her face was drawn but her expression was set and determined. He’d finally got through to her how serious this was. Now that she’d made up her mind to trust him and believed in what he was saying, he saw a different woman to the petulant, short-tempered and sharp one he’d witnessed earlier. She kissed what she could see of Charlie’s head and her fingers brushed a strand of his hair. Marvik donned the baby carrier. ‘He’ll be OK and so will you,’ he reassured her.

  ‘I hope so.’

  He had failed to protect Sarah. He wasn’t going to fail to protect Karen and her son.

  SIXTEEN

  Marvik led her through the tiny garden to the side gate and out into Bramble Close. They couldn’t risk walking along the road; they’d be spotted immediately. But the map had shown him that at the end of the close was a footpath which led into a dense area of hilly wood. A light, drizzling rain was falling as they strode out around the curving road of the small close of detached modern houses. The rain was keeping the neighbours indoors and that was a good thing. No one to stop them and no one to report their progress. Charlie woke and grizzled but Karen quickly soothed him and soon he was burbling away quite happily. Marvik had made sure to stuff the little soft toy in with him. The child was a heavy weight on Marvik’s back but much lighter than what he’d carried in combat and on covert operations. He’d only once had a cargo like this: a young Afghan child he’d found wounded and abandoned. He didn’t know whether the child had lived or died after he’d got him to the field hospital. He’d had to move on. He’d always been moving on.

  Ahead was the public footpath sign. Marvik drew to a halt in front of it and glanced behind them. They were safe. No one was watching or following them. He wondered if the car with the idling engine was still parked down the road from the house and the killer, or his accomplice inside it, waiting for his chance.

  He turned right and led the way along a narrow, muddy path bordered by trees in bud. Karen followed but she didn’t complain and neither did she speak, except to direct the occasional reassuring remark to her son. At least the trees sheltered them from the rain but soon they would be in the open on the Downs.

  He was surprised how fit Karen was. As though reading his thoughts, she smiled and said, ‘I don’t pay gym membership for nothing.’

  He smiled back. The rain had thankfully stopped by the time they began to climb the steep ascent to the top of the Downs. Only then did she begin to breathe more heavily. He eased back for her. Charlie seemed to be enjoying himself judging by the sounds he was emitting. The view at the top of the rolling Downs, stretching for miles with small outcrops of houses dotted in some of the dips was breathtaking. The mist and rain had cleared, leaving a fine late afternoon. There was no one in sight and Marvik could see for miles, right across to the silver sea in the distance.

  ‘I’d forgotten how lovely it is,’ Karen said with sadness. ‘It’s been ages since I walked up here. Stephen and I used to do it regularly before Charlie was born.’ She fell silent as they walked along the ridge, slightly northwards. After several minutes, she said, ‘Do you think Stephen will be OK?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he answered but he suspected not.

  ‘It’s all my fault,’ she said forlornly.

  ‘No, it’s not, Karen. Even if you hadn’t been involved with Ian Bradshaw, Stephen would still have been in danger.’

  ‘But who could be doing this?’

  That’s what he was desperate to know. They turned down towards the small group of buildings he could see in the distance – the village of Jevington.

  ‘Tell me what happened when you showed Gavin Yardly the flat?’

  ‘I said it was a large room which doubled as a bedroom and a sitting room with a kitchenette off it, and a shared bathroom with a shared separate toilet down the hall. Shared between two of the flats – the one at the rear on that floor has its own bathroom and toilet, so do the two basement flats. I told him that perhaps it might be too large for one person but he barely looked round it. He stepped inside, said it was fine and he’d take it. He didn’t even want to look at the bathroom and toilet.’

  ‘Did he ask about the other tenants?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How did he get the job at Aquamarine Cleaning?’

  ‘He must have approached Ian direct. I didn’t mention Gavin Yardly to Ian.’

  ‘But he was unemployed when he took the flat.’

  ‘No. Or rather, he wasn’t on housing benefit. He told me he was a freelance IT consultant. You said he’d been killed – why? He must only have been a teenager when the Mary Jo went down. Was he related to one of the crew?’

  ‘Not as far as I know.’

  After a moment, she said, ‘What do I call you?’

  ‘Art.’

  She nodded. The strain of the last four days was beginning to show on her face. She looked exhausted.

  Marvik said, ‘Didn’t Stephen ever try and confide in you about his father and how he felt after the tragedy?’

  ‘He’s not the confiding type. He keeps everything inside. That’s half his trouble. He’s shut it out. I tried to get him to open up when we used to walk like this on the Downs but I just got the silent treatment.’ She tossed him a slightly defiant glance. ‘He has days when he hardly says a word, not even to Charlie. I never know what he’s thinking. If I ask him what’s wrong he says nothing and clams up.
Even when I shout at him he just looks blankly back at me. It drives me mad. I’ve often wished we could have a full-blown argument to clear the air but Stephen doesn’t do confrontation,’ she added with a touch of bitterness.

  Perhaps Stephen suffered from depression and Karen hadn’t or didn’t want to recognize that.

  ‘Where was Stephen on Monday night?’ he asked.

  She looked at him, confused, but answered, not making any connection that it was the night Bradshaw had had his throat cut. ‘At work.’

  ‘All night?’

  ‘They had a big campaign to finish. He stayed up in London. He came home Tuesday night at the usual time.’

  Which was what Stephen had told him.

  Karen said, ‘There’s the property, just at the end of that lane.’

  Marvik could see it – a small, detached flint cottage. Its nearest neighbour was a large house about half a mile to the south. A lane led from the cottage towards a group of buildings about a mile away, obviously the village of Jevington. It was secluded and yet not too isolated, and there was no reason to suspect that whoever had abducted Stephen should find his wife and child here. But he asked her if Stephen would know of the cottage. The answer was no.

  ‘Danny knows about it because it’s on the books, but he wouldn’t have any idea I’m here. I’ll have to call in sick for tomorrow. Will I still need to be here on Tuesday?’

  ‘I don’t know. And you mustn’t call him. You could give away your location. I’ll do it.’

  She frowned, concerned, but was prevented from saying more as they drew nearer and Charlie became restless and irritable. ‘He’s hungry and he probably needs changing. Let me take him.’

  Marvik slipped off the harness. They were almost at the rear of the cottage anyway. He asked her for the alarm code and instructed her to wait. He approached the cottage confident that there was no one about and no one to see them. Opening the gate, he stepped into the small, neat courtyard garden and crossed to a set of double-glazed patio doors. They could be easily opened but Karen had said the alarm box was just to the right of the front door, so he’d enter that way and deal with that first. Not that he believed anyone would hear the alarm from where the cottage was situated. It seemed rather pointless having one and any burglar worth his salt could have sussed that out. It was a solid wooden door but with a lock that he could easily manipulate. He inserted the metal device from his penknife into the lock and a few seconds later the door gave way and the alarm rang out. Swiftly, he keyed in the code and it fell silent. There were bolts on the inside of the door, and a safety chain as well as a peephole. Good. The lock would still work, though – he hadn’t forced it.