Isolated

by M. A. Hunter

  If Corporal Pete Havvard had inadvertently impregnated Sally, wouldn’t he see her as a threat to his future? He’d have been facing dishonourable discharge from the career he’d chosen, not to mention imprisonment and a requirement to sign the sex offenders register. Rachel said it herself: desperate people are capable of desperate acts… even murder.

  Detective Inspector Rimmington isn’t what I expect when she does arrive. Given it’s been fifteen years since she was heading up the investigation into Sally’s disappearance, I would have thought she’d bear the battle scars of a hardened detective’s face, but she doesn’t look much older than me. Her hair is cut into a bob, bleached and dyed a shade of cherry red, but there is little sign of wrinkles around her eyes. She must be at least forty, but you wouldn’t know it.

  ‘It’s been a long time,’ she says to Jane, before looking from me to Rachel. ‘And I’m sorry, you two are?’

  ‘Just here to support,’ I confirm. ‘We’re… friends of the families.’

  If she recognises my face, she doesn’t give anything away. ‘Right, Jane, is there somewhere we can sit and talk?’

  Jane leads her into the boxroom that Rachel and I have recently vacated and the two of them sit at the table, leaving Rachel and me to hover near the door. Jane proceeds to explain what she told us of the night in question, about the reasons they went to the woods and the shock as Sally vanished into thin air. Tears prick at my eyes as Jane speaks about Sally’s secret pregnancy and how she had a boyfriend on the base that she’d told none of the girls about. I can’t imagine how painful it must be to finally reveal a secret held onto for so long, and I can’t help thinking that had it been revealed sooner, Natalie might still be around.

  ‘Oh my God, you need to read this,’ Rachel whispers, pulling on my arm and leading me away from the conversation.

  ‘What is it?’ I ask, as she thrusts the diary beneath my nose.

  ‘It’s the last entry she wrote in her journal, from the day before she died, but it’s different to the previous entries. It looks like she’d stopped writing in her diary when she reached eighteen. Up until this point, there was nothing jumping out as relevant, but then there are these two blank pages, and the next date was the day before she died. I think she knew it was all going to end on that rooftop, and she left this message for someone to find.’

  There is an urgency to the scrawl and it isn’t immediately easy to read, as some seems to have been written in shorthand, for which I don’t have an eye.

  ‘I can’t read this,’ I tell her, passing it back.

  Rachel accepts the book and her eyes dance across the page. ‘It starts with her offering an apology to her mother, saying that had she been stronger then none of the pain that followed the night in the woods would have occurred. She says she believes it was her attempts to tell her mum the truth about that night that caused her father to be taken from them. It then gets a bit darker. She talks about going to those woods, and how the four of them dabbled with evil spirits, making a pact with them to ease their period pains, but that her own lack of development at that age led to her becoming barren. She apologises to Sam for not telling him the truth about her condition. She talks about wanting to do the only thing that will undo all the hurt and pain. She says those spirits will only accept an eye for an eye, and she hopes her own sacrifice will finally allow Sally to return and continue her life.’

  I try and swallow the lump in my throat. It is clear that Natalie genuinely believed that the incantation delivered in the woods was real, but that just shows how damaged she was by those events at such an impressionable age. I would give anything to have been able to hear that passage the day before I met her on that rooftop, to dispel the myth. Rachel’s Wiccan witch friend Imogen already told us that the horned god and moon goddess are not akin to the devil, but for whatever reason, Natalie believed they were. Despite Jane’s revelation about Sally vanishing into thin air, and this latest passage from Natalie’s diary, in my mind I have no doubt that Sally’s disappearance had little to do with witchcraft and everything to do with an abusive adult who should have known better… and his father who helped cover the crime.

  ‘What happens now?’ I ask Rimmington, as she emerges from the room with a tearful Jane following.

  ‘I will take this statement to my superiors and ask whether there is any appetite to review the Sally Curtis casefile. If they agree, then we’ll have to make contact with the lieutenant-colonel at the base and make arrangements.’

  Natalie’s final words echo in my mind again. You need to find her. Find Sally. Tell her I’m sorry.

  It finally feels like we’re getting closer, and whilst I’m sure Colonel Havvard will do whatever he can to protect his wayward son, a secret this big can’t stay buried for ever.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Now

  Weymouth, Dorset

  As the ringing phone wakes me, I sense that today is not going to be a good day. Just as I was dropping off last night, Cheryl phoned to say she’d heard through Diane that Sally’s case is to receive a full review, starting imminently. I felt pleased at the time, hopeful that when Rimmington and her team go to the base, they’ll finally manage to find Sally and bring her parents and friends the closure they deserve. Yet, as I’m rubbing my eyes this morning, something just isn’t sitting right in my head. I know I was dreaming before the ringing started but for the life of me I can’t recall what the dream was about.

  I immediately answer the call when I see it has originated from Mum’s nursing home. Pam Ratchett’s voice sounds low and sincere as she confirms the purpose of the call.

  ‘I’m afraid to tell you that your mother isn’t the only resident here on whom we’ve found bruises. I want to assure you that I am as shocked as you that this kind of thing has been going on under my nose.’

  It’s a relief that I’m no longer under suspicion, though I knew I was innocent of the blows clearly inflicted on Mum’s frail body. Of course it doesn’t make it any easier to hear the truth about what has been going on while I’ve been avoiding visiting in case it’s another ‘bad day’ for her.

  ‘After you left the other day,’ Pam begins, ‘I requested Dr Benjamin examine all of our other residents to check their health. As I’ve said to you many times before, our residents’ health is my primary concern. I don’t want to go into too many specifics with you, Emma, for the sake of those affected, but I can confirm that your mum is one of half a dozen with suspicious bruising. My initial step was to look for any patterns in the care of those six residents, but there wasn’t anything obvious. I didn’t want to believe that any of our staff here could be capable of such cruelty, and I’m relieved to confirm to you that my belief has been rewarded. Having spoken to each of those affected, several have confirmed the culprit’s name and I have now instigated steps to have him removed from the home.’

  It’s not even eight o’clock and my brain isn’t yet tuned to the ways of the world, so I’m not sure what she’s trying to say. ‘You’re saying it wasn’t one of the nurses?’ I ask, stifling a yawn.

  ‘That’s right. We heavily vet all of our care staff before offering positions and each receives regular observations of their duties as part of staff appraisals. It’s a bit of micro-managing on my part, but I prefer to know everything that’s going on here and don’t like to leave any stone unturned. Regrettably, it appears I took my eye off the ball with what has happened, and I want to offer you the sincerest apology for that.’

  Rachel rolls over next to me as the conversation has woken her too, and she rubs her eyes as she yawns at me. ‘Is that the police?’

  I shake my head and leave the bedroom, so as not to disturb her sleep any further. ‘I’m confused,’ I tell Pam, ‘if it wasn’t one of your nurses responsible, then who?’

  ‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say exactly who, but it appears one of our other residents was the cause of the assaults.’

  ‘One of the other patients?’

&
nbsp; ‘I’m afraid so. He was named by two of the six and when questioned, admitted what had been going on. I have now spoken to his daughter, who brought him here in September, and she has said that this is not the first time he has become overly aggressive in a facility such as ours. She says it’s something to do with the time he spent overseas in the army – not that there is any excuse for that kind of behaviour.’

  I recall the barman’s words again after I first met Diane: some of the shit they must have seen overseas – it’s bound to mess with your mind, isn’t it?

  Pam sighs painfully. ‘Suffice to say, we are arranging for him to be transferred to somewhere more specialist, so I wanted to personally phone you and let you know that your mum isn’t in any danger of repeat behaviour.’

  ‘She should never have been in harm’s way to begin with,’ I say bitterly, though the aggression is aimed at myself as much as it is Pam.

  ‘I understand your disappointment, and that’s why I wanted to take the opportunity to speak to you personally and reassure you that nothing like this will occur again. We are tightening our local controls to spot any warning signs in future and to ensure that each staff member is looking for any signs of mistreatment.’

  I think about Cheryl’s desire to see Natalie just one last time and Diane’s wish to know what really happened to her daughter. Mothers never stop loving their children and needing to mother them.

  ‘What if I don’t feel comfortable leaving Mum in your care any longer?’ I ask, without really considering the consequences of such a question.

  ‘Well, by all means you are more than welcome to move her to an alternative home if you think that’s the right thing to do, but I would urge you to consider the implications for your mother’s health. It may not be in her best interests to be moved, given the known issues with her memory loss, and the early onset of Alzheimer’s.’

  Rachel moves through to the kitchen and holds the kettle up towards me. I nod as caffeine is exactly what I need, though this call certainly has made me more alert than before.

  ‘I need to consider my options,’ I tell her with a sigh. ‘I don’t think I could live with myself if I thought my inaction was putting her health at risk.’

  ‘I absolutely understand your concerns, Emma, but I can assure you that problem has now been eliminated.’

  ‘Eliminated? It should never have been a problem in the first place.’

  Rachel cocks an eyebrow at my raised voice.

  ‘I agree wholeheartedly, and I wish you could see how much I regret this situation ever developing.’

  ‘Not as much as I regret it, Pam. Maybe it was wrong of me to turn my back on her and put her in a home to begin with. She was my primary carer for so many years and at the first sign of trouble, I shuffled her off to a home to wash my hands of responsibility.’

  Rachel is shaking her head at me, and mouthing the word ‘No.’

  ‘Your mother’s health requires professional help, Emma, and you shouldn’t feel guilty about that.’

  If that’s the case, why do I feel so guilty? I think, but don’t say.

  The truth is, as soon as the GP confirmed my suspicions about Mum’s fading memory, my initial reaction was to find her the best place where she would receive the level of care she required. It wasn’t easy and it’s not cheap, but I allowed myself to believe it was for her own good. Now, though, in light of what has happened, I can’t help feeling I opted for the easy route.

  ‘Given the proximity to Christmas,’ Pam continues, ‘what I would urge is that you don’t make any rash decisions. She is perfectly safe here now and we have moved her down to the ground floor as I promised we would, so she is receiving additional oversight and support. Take some time to consider your options, as you suggested, and if you still don’t feel comfortable entrusting her care to us, then I certainly won’t bear a grudge if you choose to move her to an alternative facility. The only caveat I would add is to consider what is best for your mum. She has friends here. She has nurses who understand her condition and her background. She knows the layout of the home and where to go at meal times and who to ask for help. Adjusting all those parameters right now may not be the best thing for her.’

  I agree to her staying while I take the time to weigh up my options, before hanging up the call.

  ‘I presume that was the home?’ Rachel asks, as she hands me a cup of tea.

  ‘Turns out it was one of the patients who assaulted Mum, apparently.’

  Rachel gasps. ‘One of the patients? Jeez.’

  ‘Exactly. What if it happens again? They missed that this guy was violent, not to mention the fact that she was covered in bruises so they’re just as capable of making the same mistake again, aren’t they?’

  Rachel sips her coffee. ‘What’s the alternative? You can’t have her back here with you.’

  ‘Why not? Isn’t it my responsibility to take care of her?’

  ‘Not if you’re incapable of doing so. Look at this place, Emma. It’s tiny. It’s fine for your purposes but you’d have to make so many alterations to make it safe for someone with your mum’s health issues. Plus, you’re not always here. Who would look after her when you have to go to London, or when you’re neck-deep in another story?’

  ‘I could hire a private nurse to monitor her here.’

  ‘Unless you’re planning on paying someone to be here twenty-four seven, that’s not practical. Besides, you’re twenty-seven years old; it’s time you started living your life. At some point you might meet someone you do want to settle down with. Maybe you decide you want to put down roots and start a family of your own. None of that will be possible if you have your mum living with you.’

  I know Rachel is trying to be pragmatic and I’m grateful for her opposing view, but it doesn’t ease the guilt that I have all but abandoned Mum in that home.

  ‘Trust me, if the shoe was on the other foot, and it was me questioning whether to invite my mum or dad to live with me, I wouldn’t give it a second’s thought. You have done the right thing in getting her into that home. While she’s there she gets close to twenty-four-hour supervision, but is able to live independently. I really wish you’d stop beating yourself up about this. You’ve done far more than many others; yes, this incident was unfortunate, but could have happened at any nursing home. Don’t forget how convenient it is for you to go and visit her when you need. If you moved her somewhere else, that might require more travelling, and mean you see even less of her.’

  I can’t concentrate on this right now. I know that Rachel and Pam are right, and that it’s only my own guilt that’s forcing me to even consider moving her in with me, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Despite their valid arguments, she’s my mum and she is my responsibility. Things might be different if Anna was still around, and we could reach the decision together, but right now I’m all she’s got and that burden feels so heavy to carry alone.

  ‘You want some breakfast?’ Rachel asks, switching on the toaster.

  I’m about to respond when my phone starts ringing again, though the number isn’t familiar.

  ‘Emma? I can’t believe you managed to do it.’

  ‘Cheryl? Do what, sorry?’

  ‘They’re at the base now – the police – and they’ve got sniffer dogs and a whole army of personnel. Diane just phoned me and said they’ve got a warrant to search the woods for traces of Sally’s body. They’re going in now. Diane told me to phone you and say she’s put our names on the visitor list. She wants us there with her.’

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Now

  Bovington Garrison, Dorset

  Having showered and dressed, I haul myself to the base, arriving within the hour, but the scene I witness is far crazier than the last time I was here. It’s clear there is a wave of activity inside the base just from the number of vehicles parked just inside the confines. The poor guard at the security post is sweating profusely, probably getting it in the neck from both his superiors as well as
the officers and CSI technicians who appear to be swarming the place like flies sensing death nearby.

  I show him my identification and explain Diane should have put my name on the list. I’m expecting him to kick up some fuss as he did the last time I was here, but he barely checks before signalling me through. There’s no obvious sign of press outside the base, save for one van that pulls up just as I’ve gone through the barrier. Again, I don’t imagine it will be long before more moths gather close to the flame, particularly once it gets out that the police are once again hunting for Sally Curtis.

  I’m surprised by the level of activity inside the perimeter. God only knows how many favours Rimmington needed to call in but it feels like she’s pulled every available resource. It seems a bit much based solely on Jane’s statement yesterday afternoon, but there was something about the look in Rimmington’s eyes that told me she had unfinished business at this base. It’s a cliché to suggest that this is the one unsolved case that has haunted her for the last fifteen years, but I’ve no other way to explain it.

  Following the instructions in the text message Cheryl sent, I’m unable to get beyond the second roundabout, as this is where the police outer cordon begins. I phone Cheryl and she tells me that they are at Diane’s house and that she will come and meet me at the tape. It takes ten minutes, but then I spot the cigarette-chomping Cheryl in a leopard-print tracksuit coming towards us. She is in stark contrast to the men and women in uniforms and blue overalls buzzing about inside.