by Alison Bruce
Today she had realized that her abductor wouldn’t be returning. And she could be dead already, for all anyone knew.
It will be OK. The family are looking for me. She wished she could say it aloud for reassurance. And the police will be looking. Yes, surely the police, too.
The plummeting temperatures made her eyes ache. By mid-evening, she pressed them shut. Could they freeze over and crack, or would she be dead before then?
The creaking of the trees and plops of dripping water both fell into a steady rhythm, as Kaye dozed.
Hushed voices reached her.
‘Come on, Greg, over this way.’
‘Shhh.’
‘It’s all right, there’s no one around.’
Kaye tried to make a noise but only managed to force a whimper. Nobody heard.
A torch clicked on and its beam swung in an erratic arc before settling on the water’s edge.
Kaye heard them coming closer, stumbling through the shrubbery, and she knew that the first one through the gorse would tumble right over her.
Her heart began to pound and her muffled voice strained to rise above the breaking twigs.
The torch zigzagged through the undergrowth. The man carrying it spotted her too late, tripped over her legs and crashed forward, dropping the torch into the water.
Kaye awoke.
And for a moment that tantalizing sense of elation hung in the air, dancing around her before the silence of the lake swallowed it whole. It had just been another cruel dream.
But something was different. She twisted her head until facing towards the water. And there it was, a rowing boat bobbing and surging towards the centre of the lake.
Whispers carried across the water. Impossible to hear the words but she could decipher several different voices. They had a torch, and it was being flashed along the shore to Kaye’s right.
They’re looking for me! Thank God, thank God.
Then the flashlight whipped around, pointing into the boat itself, and Kaye saw the face of a girl about her own age, laughing and flushed with excitement.
‘Hey, behave! Look out for the jetty,’ shouted a man’s voice.
And the flashlight moved back to the reeds and back towards Kaye. She felt its light hit her face and sway over her legs.
Utter desolation hit her as she realized that, from the boat, she was probably just a bumpy outline, nothing more than a mud-and-gravel feature of the bank.
‘Is that it?’ the girl asked, focusing the torch further to Kaye’s right.
‘Well done. I can’t wait to get out.’ The yellow beam of the torch moved on. They joked and laughed as they struggled to moor and step out of the little rocking boat.
They headed away from Kaye. She listened hard until the last shreds of their voices vanished. Silence returned, but worse now. The only people she’d seen in three days; she knew she couldn’t bear three days more.
What kind of decaying mess would she be by then?
Tears trickled, leaving silted tracks down both her cheeks before sliding into her matted hair. No more, she decided and fixed her thoughts on the last face she’d seen: the face of a healthy young girl, just as she herself had been only a few days before.
A greasy layer of rainwater helped her slide and writhe towards the lip of the bank. It took half an hour to reach the edge; then she stared into the water for several seconds longer before one final twist of her legs toppled her into the deep cold lake.
CHAPTER 13
WEDNESDAY, 30 MARCH 2011
Paulette Coleman grabbed another jumper from the wardrobe and draped it over the top of her suitcase. Her mum shouted up from the hall, ‘I can’t believe you’re still going.’
Paulette flew on to the landing and leant over the banister. ‘Of course I am. This is our holiday,’ she snapped. ‘D’you think we’d have just one row and then cancel all our plans? I don’t think so. We’re going to have a great time, and I’ll tell you what I’m looking forward to most. Getting out of this sodding house.’
Her mother glared up at her. ‘You’re such a stupid little girl sometimes, running round the house, stamping your feet and shouting, and then expecting me to respect you as an adult.’ She shook a tea cloth at her daughter. ‘You’re not mature enough to be in love, and you’re going to come unstuck big time. And then it’ll be me picking up the pieces. You’ll be glad of this sodding house then, I can tell you.’
Paulette stormed back into her bedroom, but carried on yelling. ‘You’re right, I’m stupid, because I actually believed you would be pleased I’d met someone special.’ The pitch of her voice escalated. ‘But, oh no, you realize I’m growing up and you can’t stand it, can you? You’re jealous, aren’t you?’
Her mother trudged up the stairs, lowering her voice to try and diffuse Paulette’s tantrum. ‘For pity’s sake, Paulette, I know you came home crying again last night. You’re not happy, so why do you keep seeing him?’
Paulette appeared in the doorway, holding a box of Tampax in one hand and a can of deodorant in the other. ‘I am happy, but you don’t understand anything, do you? What would you know? We’ve had a few rows, but we’re getting it sorted out.’ Fury glinted in her eyes. ‘And I’ll tell you about them, they start because I get possessive, and that’s your fault because that’s just how you are, and that’s how you’ve made me.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t like him, I never have, but I’m not jealous.’ Mrs Coleman then goaded Paulette with the word. ‘Jealous?’ she repeated with venom. ‘You’re jealous because it’s you who’s doing all the chasing. You’re bound to feel insecure, because he just isn’t that interested.’
‘Of course he’s interested,’ Paulette retaliated. ‘We have a fantastic sex life, if you really want to know.’
‘You make it so easy for him,’ Mrs Coleman snorted, ‘he just clicks his fingers and you go running. And where do you get that from? I never brought you up to be that stupid.’
Paulette threw some toiletries into a shoulder bag. ‘No, you brought me up to walk all over people, and that’s not how I want to be. I’ve never been as happy as I am now. I love him.’
Mrs Coleman crossed her arms over her bosom, and clicked her tongue behind clenched teeth. ‘And I suppose he loves you, too?’
‘As a matter of fact, yes, he does.’ Paulette snatched a black blouse from the end of the bed and barged past her mother and into the bathroom. She slammed the door shut and rammed the bolt into place.
Her mother turned her head as Paulette passed, but didn’t move. ‘Well, it doesn’t cost him anything to say that, whatever he really thinks.’
Inside the bathroom, Paulette stood with her back pressed to the door. ‘I can’t hear you.’
‘Of course you can’t. But you’ll hear him when he hoots his horn, won’t you? You’ll be trotting out there quick enough, then.’
Paulette chose not to answer. She pulled off her jumper and T-shirt to reveal a black bra trimmed with hot-pink lace. Paulette pulled it down at the sides and scooped each breast fully into its cup. She piled up her hair and held it on top of her head. She turned sideways and checked out her reflection. Satisfied, she started on her make-up. She squirted too much foundation from the tube, then applied it in a heavy swathe across her forehead, nose, cheeks and chin. As it smeared, she cursed her mother and rubbed the excess into her neck. Her fingers fumbled with the mascara and she counted out five strokes on each side, top and bottom, to ensure it was even. She chose a shade of pink lipstick called Hot Candy and began to apply it, just as she heard the familiar double-beep of Pete’s car’s hooter.
She paused, listening for a car door to slam. After a few seconds he hooted again, so she rushed back to her room to collect her bags.
As she passed the hall mirror, she caught a glimpse of her unblotted lipstick and single-tone skin, and paused just long enough to press her fingertips on to her lips and dab some lipstick on to her cheeks. She smeared it along each cheekbone in an improvised attemp
t at blusher.
She opened the front door. In full daylight, the end result almost certainly looked like a scald across each cheek. But she’d run out of time and decided to fix things in the car.
As Paulette ran down the path towards the car, her mother emerged from the kitchen and stood on the doorstep, ready to wave goodbye. Paulette ignored her.
‘Stupid bitch,’ she breathed as she jumped into the car. She leant over and kissed Pete, and then pulled away to check that her mum had seen. Pete waved at the house and her mother waved back, but Paulette just turned her head away.
Mrs Coleman slammed the front door.
Paulette turned to Pete. ‘D’you know what – she’s been having a go at me for going on holiday with you. She doesn’t understand how it is between us. She’s jealous, and I told her she was, too.’
‘You haven’t had a row with her as well?’
‘I was upset when I got in last night, so she says it’s because you’re not making me happy. And I stuck up for you.’
‘What did you say?’ He pulled away from the kerb and accelerated into the flow of traffic.
‘Told her it was my fault we fell out, but we’d got it sorted.’ Paulette looked at him, suddenly worried. ‘It is OK, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘I am getting fed up with the fights all the time.’
‘I’m sorry, though. You know I am.’
‘I know you’re sorry but, as I’ve said before, it keeps happening, doesn’t it?’
Paulette nodded and held her breath, trying to force tears into her eyes. She managed to make them water, and her face reddened.
Pete squeezed her hand. ‘Tell you what, let’s make the most of the holiday, and then see how we feel. OK?’
Paulette nodded. ‘I love you lots.’
Pete indicated and pulled into the outside lane. He must have heard her but he didn’t comment, and she let it go for a few minutes. Paulette felt good about this trip. She’d waited for it: it had been the light at the end of the tunnel. She’d show him how much she loved him. ‘Don’t you feel this is special? Really romantic?’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘I’ve never been away for a holiday with a boyfriend before. This is really special.’
‘Did you bring lunch?’
‘No, was I supposed to?’
‘You said you’d bring food for the journey, don’t you remember?’ When Pete glanced at her, she made a face and her nose and top lip twitched involuntarily. She reminded herself of a twitching, nervy guinea pig.
‘Sorry, I forgot,’ she muttered, and began rummaging in her shoulder bag. She produced a crumpled pack of chewing gum. He shook his head. She giggled and apologized again.
She beamed at him every time he looked across, but she realized that ‘sorry’ seemed to have become her favourite word.
CHAPTER 14
WEDNESDAY, 30 MARCH 2011
Goodhew pushed open the door of Interview Room 3 with his foot and stepped inside. He carried two coffees and placed one of the vending-machine cups in front of Doreen Kennedy, then sat down opposite her with the other.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’ve been feeling ever so upset about poor Kaye, so I want to help. Really I do, but I don’t know anything.’
Goodhew raised a hand, hoping to halt her rambling discourse. ‘Mrs Kennedy?’
‘Sorry.’
‘No, it’s fine. I can understand how you feel, but things that may seem like nothing to you may help us all the same.’
She gazed at him over her cup as she sipped her coffee.
‘Do you work closely with Kaye?’ Goodhew held his pen just an inch above his notebook, ready to catch any stray comments spraying out from her chatter.
She nodded. ‘I work opposite Kaye – you know the facing desk; they’re arranged in pairs – so we talk to each other more than we talk to anyone else. She would have told me if she had arranged a date or anything.’ She began to swill the remains of her coffee around in the cup.
‘Did you know what she had planned for Saturday?’
‘Yes, it was her gran’s birthday party and she was getting a lift there with her sister, I think.’ Doreen still stared into the sludge at the bottom of her cup and Goodhew wished he had brought a stirrer.
‘Mrs Kennedy?’ He waited for her to look up before he continued. ‘What about Friday night, then?’
‘No, I’m sure she was staying in. I was reading the paper and she asked me what was on TV. I can’t remember her saying there was anything she particularly fancied watching, though.’ She looked down again into the thickening mix of coffee powder and synthetic milk. ‘Is there a bin?’
‘I’ll take it.’ He tipped the dregs from her cup into his own and stacked the two cups on the windowsill. ‘OK, now how about the Saturday earlier in the day? Are you sure she wasn’t planning to go anywhere?’
Doreen shook her head. ‘She didn’t mention anything, I’m sure.’
‘Had she mentioned buying a birthday present for her grandmother?’
The woman hadn’t quite finished shaking her head over the last question when she froze with a jolt. As the seed of memory germinated, she stared at Goodhew, appalled.
Goodhew recognized her bewilderment; Doreen’s shock was clearly due to the fact that she hadn’t remembered it earlier.
‘Oh!’ she whispered.
‘Is it something about the birthday present, Mrs Kennedy?’
‘Yes, yes.’ She leant towards Goodhew excitedly. ‘You see, it was Kaye’s gran’s eightieth birthday, and Kaye thought she’d like to prepare her a present that was a sort of hamper full of things that would have been common when her granny was young. It was a couple of weeks ago that she was talking about it, and last time we spoke she still didn’t have everything. She was looking for some old grocery items, and I suggested she went to Woodbridge, because there’s a museum there. Can’t remember what it’s called but it’s full of old packaging, and there’re all sorts of unusual things in the gift shop. There’re a few antique shops close by, too.’
‘And what makes you think she would have gone there last Saturday?’
‘Well, I asked her if she had anything still to buy, and she said she would like to buy a 1920s newspaper and maybe some sweets in an old-fashioned tin. So she was going to have one last look around.’
‘But what makes you think that she might have gone to Woodbridge?’
‘Nothing,’ Doreen conceded, ‘except that I’d mentioned it to her, and she’d already tried everywhere she could think of around town. Where else would she try?’
‘Wouldn’t she have driven there, though?’ Gary mused.
‘I guess.’
‘But her car was still at her flat when she was reported missing, and her family seem to think she would have taken it if she had wanted to travel further afield than Cambridge.’
But Doreen shook her head again adamantly. ‘Like I say, if she wanted to buy things like that, where else could she try?’
Goodhew wrapped up the interview at that point, and escorted her to reception. He stood alongside her in the main doorway. ‘Thank you very much, Mrs Kennedy. You’ve been very helpful.’
Of course there were plenty of other places. Most towns within a similar radius to Woodbridge had shops selling antiques and vintage bric-à-brac. But as far as he knew none of them had been suggested to Kaye.
Goodhew was listening politely to Doreen Kennedy’s response, but at the same time picked out the sound of quick, regular footsteps descending the stairs and echoing along the corridor towards them. He glanced aside and saw Sue Gully.
She stopped as soon as she realized he’d spotted her, and held up a sheet of notepaper.
He turned back to Mrs Kennedy who continued chattering. ‘Oh, I do hope she’s found soon. She’s such a lovely girl, so sensible.’ She shook his hand. ‘If I think of anything else, I’ll call you straight away.’
‘Thank you.’ He took a step back from th
e entrance.
‘I really hope you find her,’ the woman called out, as the door between them began to close.
He nodded. ‘So do I, Mrs Kennedy.’
‘I mean I hope nothing terrible has happened.’ That final sentence drifted back to him as he moved towards Gully.
But Goodhew already knew, from the agitated expression on Gully’s face, that hope had just died for Kaye Whiting.
CHAPTER 15
WEDNESDAY, 30 MARCH 2011
‘What’s happened?’ Goodhew demanded, as he reached her.
Gully shook her head. ‘She’s dead …’ Her voice trailed away.
‘I guessed.’ He looked at the notepaper and saw she’d written URGENT across it in red biro. ‘When did you find out?’
Gully cleared her throat. ‘About ten minutes ago, Ipswich rang through with the details of a body, and it sounds like a definite match.’ She produced a set of car keys from her pocket. ‘Marks and Kincaide have already left. I’ll tell you what I know on the way.’
Gully drove the patrol car like a dodgem, weaving it in and out of the traffic until they broke free along Newmarket Road towards the A14. She glared at the road ahead as she banged through the gears.
‘So what do you know, then?’ Gary asked, once they were clear.
‘Her body was found south of Ipswich, at one of the lakes between the town and Alton Water. She was submerged, but I haven’t heard much else. Marks and Kincaide went straight up there, and there’s been no news yet on cause of death.’
‘Who called it in?’
‘A group of six people taking part in one of those management training courses. They’d been on an overnight exercise, like a treasure hunt I think. Found her this morning. They’d crossed the lake mid-evening yesterday, and moored the boat at a jetty about thirty feet along from where the body was found. They didn’t see or hear anything then. But when they returned this morning, they walked around the lake and one of them spotted her in the water.’
