I Will Make You Pay

by Driscoll, Teresa

  ‘Right. I’m not going to dress this up, Alice. Better you hear it straight. Alex Sunningham has broken his parole conditions and gone AWOL. The teenager he ran off with in Scotland has also disappeared. She’s still not been in touch with her parents this morning and so there’s going to be a media appeal to find Alex. Chances are the tabloids will be all over it like a rash. Maybe TV too. We felt you should be warned. And the police are going to want to interview you again today.’

  I press the phone tighter, tighter to my ear until I can feel the imprint of the screen. For a moment, I can’t speak.

  ‘What is it?’ Tom is now alongside me.

  I lower the phone to my chest for a moment, squeezing my eyes tight in a bid to regroup, and then I move the phone slowly back up to my ear.

  ‘I don’t know what to say, Matthew. I don’t know what to think. What are the police thinking? Do they really think she’s gone off with him, this girl? Or that he’s abducted her, or what?’

  ‘They don’t know. She’s an adult now but that’s not the point. The terms of his licence forbid any contact with her and he’s now a key suspect in your case too, so they need to find him urgently.’ There’s a pause. ‘Look – I want to be honest with you. Melanie Sanders asked me to report your reaction to her but I can’t split my loyalties here. She’s a very good police officer, Alice, and you need her on side, as do I. No more keeping things from her. You need to be one hundred per cent straight with her and with me. So, do you have any idea, any inkling at all, where this Alex might hole up? Does anywhere come to mind? Friends? Relatives? Special places? Anything we can share with the police teams looking for him?’

  I try to think. I glance from left to right but can’t quite process this. I’ve tried so hard for so long not to think about the wretched man. To have to suddenly conjure him up and imagine him free. Out there. Missing. It’s too much to take in.

  ‘Look – I have absolutely no idea where he might be, Matthew. That’s the truth, I swear. I never want to hear about that man again, quite frankly. But I get what you’re saying. From here on I’ll be straight with you. And the police. I promise. And thank you for telling me, Matthew.’ I pause. A new thought. ‘So do you know when this will be made public?’ Oh no. My mother. I look at the clock and start to get out of bed. My mother always watches the TV news. Jeez. I take in that Tom is still watching me, his frown deepening.

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll let you know if I hear any more. Now, are you feeling safe, Alice? You’re not on your own? I mean, I know it’s not Wednesday and that I’m off the case but—’

  ‘I’m with Tom. He’s still angry with me and with you too.’ I turn to look directly at Tom as I say this. ‘And I don’t blame him. But personally I’d like you to continue to help us, Matthew. Are you prepared to do that? To help me still? We’ll pay you – I mean, I’ll pay you if need be.’

  There’s a long pause.

  ‘OK. Unfair question. You don’t have to answer that now. I’ll ring you after I’ve seen my mother.’

  Tom is now glaring at me as I end the call. ‘You’re kidding me? You seriously still want Matthew Hill on this? After what happened?’

  ‘I do. Please, Tom. I know you’re pretending not to be furious, bottling it up, but I need you to bear with me. Please. Will you come to see my mother with me? It’s going to be all over the news. Alex Sunningham has done a bunk. I’ll explain on the way but I need to warn my mother. She’ll worry herself sick otherwise.’

  An hour later we park up outside Mum’s nursing home. Tom is now in a different mood, more worried than cross. Reluctantly he’s agreed to keep Matthew on the case after all. I watch Tom from the passenger seat; the news that Alex Sunningham has gone AWOL seems to have knocked him completely sideways. He says he feels helpless, which is the only reason he’s agreed to re-engage Matthew. Like DI Sanders, Tom thinks Alex is bound to be behind the stalking, although I still find this difficult to believe.

  ‘Do you want me to come in with you?’ Tom looks anxious and is glancing around the car park, checking if anyone has been following us.

  ‘No. The security is good. It’s fine. I feel safe here.’

  ‘And have you told your mother about the stalking?’

  ‘No, no – of course not. She’s just not well enough. But she obviously knows everything about what happened with Alex and why I switched my name. I need to hurry. Do you mind waiting here?’

  ‘No. Of course not.’

  I check my watch. Damn – one minute past the hour, which means news time. I hurry inside but am slowed down by the reception security. I’m logged into the visitor book, given a pass and then accompanied to my mother’s room by a nurse.

  But the timing could not be worse. As I walk into the room, my mother has the TV remote in her hand and is switching between news channels, her eyes wide and staring. One bulletin is dealing with an arson story. Another has moved on to the weather. But my mother then flicks back to a satellite news channel and there he is. Alex Sunningham. His picture full-screen. The voiceover outlines the police appeal to trace him and then there’s a film recapping the background story with an older picture of him at his grand piano, beaming.

  My mother turns to me as I stand in the doorway. She’s suddenly struggling even harder than usual for breath, her chest heaving and her eyes still wide with worry.

  ‘It’s him again. On the telly . . .’ And then she’s truly gasping for breath, her right hand up to her chest. Too many words. She’s pushed it too far.

  I clutch at the nurse’s arm. ‘Help her. Please. It’s a big shock for her. This story on the news.’

  The nurse moves swiftly to adjust the switch on the oxygen supply, coaxing my mother to breathe more slowly. Steady breaths.

  ‘Don’t try to speak, Mum.’ I lean in so that our foreheads are just touching. ‘It’s OK. I know about all this on the news. It’s all right. That’s why I’m here. Please don’t be upset. Try to catch your breath. You don’t need to worry about this. I’m OK. Everything’s going to be OK.’

  CHAPTER 24

  MATTHEW

  It’s mid-morning now and, even as he rings the bell, Matthew wonders if he’s making the most terrible of mistakes. He checks his phone, skimming for the headlines. The press conference regarding Alex Sunningham has made several key bulletins but there’s no update from the police. No leads and no apparent sightings. Matthew had originally planned to make this quick call on ‘Ian and the little people’ last night, but everything ran too late. He didn’t have time then and he doesn’t really have the time now but he can’t put the sound of Ian’s quiet sobbing on the phone out of his mind.

  When the door is finally answered, Matthew is entirely surprised. The man is older than his voice, slim and immaculately dressed. Shirt and tie, a clean if slightly shabby cardigan, and trousers with a sharp crease down the middle.

  ‘Ian Ellis?’

  ‘Who wants to know?’

  ‘I’m Matthew Hill. We’ve been talking on the phone about the little people.’

  ‘Oh, right. Oh goodness – so you’re finally taking the case?’

  ‘Not exactly. Look, I haven’t really got much time to be honest, Ian, but I thought I’d check in on you briefly. You sounded a bit upset the last time we spoke.’

  Ian blushes and looks at the ground as if considering something. Then he jerks his head back upright to challenge Matthew with a very direct stare. ‘Right – come in, come in. They’re upstairs. We’ll need to be quiet.’ Ian puts his finger up to his lips and leads the way up a steep staircase, creeping ever so gently. On the landing he stands opposite an open door that leads into what appears to be a large bedroom. He nods towards the floor at the entrance to the room.

  Matthew leans forward as Ian again signals with his eyes towards the carpet at the bedroom’s entrance. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m not seeing anything, Ian.’

  Ian lets out a puff of air as if deflated. ‘Ah, yes – they do that.’

  ‘What?�
�

  ‘Make themselves invisible when it suits them. Just between us, I think they’ve configured themselves just now so that I’m the only one who can see them. Part of their plot.’

  ‘To kidnap you?’

  ‘Well, yes.’ Ian frowns. ‘Obviously.’

  Matthew pauses. He can just see into the room now. It appears to be a woman’s bedroom. There are pink slippers on the floor and a soft, fluffy dressing gown is draped across the bed. There is a smart, green dress hanging on the wardrobe as if ready for an outing. In the corner he can just make out a dressing table with perfume bottles and little china bowls and trinkets.

  ‘I tell you what, Ian. How about we have a quick cup of tea. Go over what we’ve got.’

  ‘Excellent idea. I knew you’d be interested once you realised what I’m up against.’

  Downstairs in the kitchen, Ian sets about making tea with the enthusiasm and chatter of someone unused to company. Matthew had guessed loneliness would be a part of the picture here and is worried he will make things worse, not better – offering some kind of false hope. Ian’s quite a bit older than he expected. On the phone he sounded late fifties, maybe sixties, but in the flesh he is clearly well into his seventies.

  ‘The truth here, Ian, is I’m still feeling I’m not the right man for your investigation, but I wondered – if I had a bit more detail – if I might see some way forward.’

  ‘Suggest another investigator, you mean?’ Ian puts a selection of biscuits on a plate – Hobnobs, digestives and two chocolate-covered wafers – and leads the way into the sitting room. Again it’s in immaculate order. Matthew imagines Ian having nothing much more to do than clean; he feels his heart sink further.

  ‘So, do you mind me asking if you live here alone at the moment, Ian?’

  Ian holds out the plate and Matthew shakes his head.

  ‘It’s just I noticed that the bedroom upstairs – the one the little people seem to be interested in – it appeared to be a woman’s bedroom. Partner? Daughter? Other relative?’

  Ian dunks his biscuit in his tea and examines it as if waiting for the precise softness before moving it swiftly to his mouth.

  ‘You’re observant. I expected that. But you’re not going to start going on about triggers again, are you, Mr Hill?’

  ‘No, no. I was just trying to gather the information I need here, Ian. To try to suggest how someone might help you.’

  ‘I have just one child – a daughter who lives abroad. Canada. Jessica.’ Ian puts down his tea and biscuits and moves across to select a photograph from a dresser. From the frame a large, jolly woman in her late forties or early fifties beams alongside a huge black dog. ‘I haven’t seen her in a few years, sadly, as neither of us has very much money. And, well, travel is spectacularly expensive. Also I worry what might happen. If the little people followed me, I mean. An in-flight emergency. I couldn’t have that on my conscience.’

  ‘Quite.’ Matthew puts his hand up to his mouth to conceal a smile. He’s surprised to be rather liking this strange little man.

  ‘Anyway. Phoning is very expensive too so we just swap cards, me and Jessie. You know. Birthdays and Christmas. She has an email address and says I can write to her using that but I can’t be doing with any of that. Apparently you need a module.’

  ‘Modem?’

  ‘Whatever. Mobile phones give you cancer. I’m not holding one of those up to my ear.’

  ‘And does Jessica know about the little people? The plots?’

  ‘No, of course not. I can’t be worrying her on the other side of the world, can I. I mean – what kind of father would that make me? What can she do?’

  ‘And is that Jessica’s old room, then? Upstairs.’

  ‘Oh no – no, no.’ Ian suddenly looks crestfallen. ‘That’s Barbara’s room.’

  ‘Barbara?’

  ‘My wife.’

  At that very moment, Matthew’s phone buzzes. Melanie Sanders.

  ‘Look, I’m very sorry about this, Ian, but I need to take this call. Will you excuse me?’

  ‘You know that mobiles fry your brain, don’t you, Mr Hill? There’s a conspiracy to cover it up. The government knows all about it but they want the taxes. That phone will give you cancer of the brain . . .’

  ‘I’ll have to take the risk, Ian.’ Matthew moves out into the hall and lowers his voice to answer.

  ‘Hello, Mel. So is this good news regarding Alex?’

  ‘No. Sorry. No update there. I just wanted to let you know that I’m heading into Alice’s newspaper right this minute to speak to one of her colleagues.’

  ‘Because?’

  ‘Because that black Golf you thought might be following you and Alice belongs to one of the other reporters. Jack Trenter. I’m thinking just a quiet word at this stage. Alex is our main focus, obviously. But do you know anything about him – this Jack character? Has Alice mentioned him?’

  ‘No. Not at all. Let me know what you make of him, will you? As I say, I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure he was tailing us. But this is sounding rather odd. I’ll try to see what Alice thinks.’

  ‘OK. And thank you for the tip-off. I’ll text you. We need to have another chat.’

  Matthew feels his forehead furrowing. He hadn’t meant for it to be a tip-off exactly and is not at all sure what to make of this. He’d rather imagined this whole case would all be sewn up once they find Alex.

  So why would one of Alice’s colleagues be following her?

  CHAPTER 25

  HIM – BEFORE

  Fat Brian keeps his face close to the letterbox, pinning the flap open with his fingers.

  ‘I mean it. Open up, young man, or I phone the police.’

  ‘My gran’s asleep. You’ll wake her up.’

  ‘No, she isn’t. I saw her go out. Now look here – I just want to help you. You shouldn’t be on your own. You’re too little. I can’t just leave it now I know you’re on your own. I can’t have that on my conscience and I can’t imagine you like it very much either. All on your own, I mean?’

  He doesn’t move. For a while he doesn’t say anything but fat Brian is right. He doesn’t like it on his own at all. He wonders, not for the first time, why his gran thinks it’s OK. When Brian doesn’t. Adults are very confusing.

  ‘I tell you what – do you have any Lego?’ Brian’s voice is a bit calmer and he has tilted his head so his eyes are now showing through the letterbox instead of his nose.

  ‘Lego?’ He glances into the corner where his gran stores the red plastic box containing all his Lego. They got a huge box from the charity shop last Christmas. He even has animals and letters that spell zoo. He wonders if he’s allowed to tell Brian this . . .

  ‘It’s just I could keep you company, if you like. Play some Lego with you until your gran gets back.’

  ‘I’m not allowed to open the door. It’s the rules.’

  ‘It’s also the rules that you’re not supposed to be on your own, mate. So it’s a straight choice. You either let me in to check you’re OK, or I phone the police so they can check you’re OK.’

  He moves his torch to shine it towards the door and walks very slowly towards it. His heart is still really strange, like a super-charged rocket. He stands at the door for a moment. He thinks of his gran’s rule about not opening the door but then he thinks of the police turning up with sirens and handcuffs, so he turns the latch.

  ‘That’s a good boy. See – that wasn’t so very difficult, was it?’ Brian is in the room very quickly and closes the door quietly behind him as he speaks. He is holding a small tin with flowers on it and he looks around the sitting room.

  ‘What are you looking for?’

  ‘Nothing. So where’s this Lego?’

  He fetches the box for Brian and puts it in the middle of the rug between the sofa and the chair. He wants to ask what is in the tin with the flowers but decides to wait.

  Brian is surprisingly good at Lego. He builds a small house and they line up the animals outsi
de. It’s not really right for it to be a house; it’s not big enough to look like a zoo. He finds himself thinking how scary it would be if a real lion and a real zebra turned up outside your house.

  Brian says he saw real lions roaming wild in a safari park once and they had a fight over who got the biggest piece of meat when the park staff came round to feed them. He tells some more stories about the safari park. About the giraffes and the cheetahs who can run at zillions of miles per hour.

  Then Brian finds some cars in the bottom of the Lego box and they play a game where they build a little wall of Lego and the cars have to try to smash it down. He likes this game a lot and thinks Brian is much nicer than he expected.

  ‘So when does your gran get home?’

  ‘Any minute.’ He doesn’t know why he says this. He watches Brian frown.

  ‘I don’t think that’s true, is it? The other Wednesday when I knocked before, I listened out. I didn’t hear her key in the door until early in the morning.’

  He shrugs. Miss Henderley at school says to use words instead of shrugs, but he rather likes shrugging.

  ‘I don’t like to think of you on your own at night. Your gran shouldn’t leave you on your own, you know . . .’

  ‘What’s in your tin?’

  Brian smiles. ‘I’m glad you asked me that. Because that’s my surprise.’

  ‘What surprise?’

  ‘Well, what I was thinking is that we could do a deal, you and me.’

  ‘What deal?’

  ‘Well, you could do me a favour for keeping you company. And then I could show you my surprise in the tin.’

  ‘What favour?’

  CHAPTER 26

  ALICE

  It’s now Thursday evening and I’m once more staring at Leanne across the vast kitchen of the Dorset trophy house.

  I’ve spent most of the day with the police since Alex’s disappearance hit the news. Leanne’s driven down again as we’re both so worried about Mum’s reaction.