Cherringham--Trail of Lies

by Matthew Costello

  Jasmine stepped closer and Sarah saw the girl’s mother back away, then head to the door to leave.

  Interesting.

  The girl shook her head. “Her mum and dad … you know—”

  But Jasmine fired a look at her departing mother. And caught herself. “They were always worried about Amy. Tried to be so strict with her. And where did it get them?”

  Sarah watched Jasmine look away, the first tinge of human emotion over her friend since they had arrived.

  “So, Jasmine,” Sarah said. “Just go over that last night with us? What you saw … heard …” then — on instinct — she added, “believe?”

  And the girl nodded.

  “Okay. All right. It was our last night. And — God — was I glad about that.”

  *

  Jasmine had reviewed the day leading up to reaching the campsite, tents going up, and the campfire meal.

  “It was that idiot Holly who had us up on that hill anyway. Nightmare to get to, and course we now know how dangerous, hmm?”

  Sarah nodded, she and Jack both with notebooks out. Making sure they had the entire sequence of the evening from Jasmine’s point of view.

  “So — you all went to bed around the same time?”

  “We were wiped out.”

  “And you didn’t wake up in the night?”

  “Yes! God. I’ve said all this to the police.”

  “I know,” said Sarah. “Sorry — we just need to hear it first-hand.”

  She watched Jasmine take a deep breath as if she’d just been asked to read a poem out loud in class.

  “I went to sleep. I slept all night. I woke up at seven.”

  “You didn’t get up in the night at all?”

  “Er, no. That’s what ‘slept all night’ means. Right?”

  Sarah absorbed the hostility. At first, she’d put it down to stress, anger, loss. But now she began to think maybe something deeper was going on here?

  She smiled at Jasmine.

  “Okay. Just getting everything nice and clear. What happened in the morning then? After you woke?”

  “Tried to read for a bit. Not easy with Holly snoring. So I got up. Made a coffee. Sat in the sun.”

  “And what time did you realise Amy wasn’t in her tent.”

  “About eight.”

  “And until then the tent flaps were closed?”

  “Well, obviously.”

  “Then you opened them?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what did you think when you saw the tent was empty?”

  “I thought … maybe she’d gone for a walk or something.”

  “But then you got worried?”

  “Not straight away. I woke Holly. She had a coffee. We waited another half hour. Then we thought — well, this is weird — and went looking for her. In the woods. All over. But we didn’t find her. So I called home. And mum called the police. And they … well … you know …”

  Sarah nodded. Talking to Jasmine — as delightful as she was — had produced nothing new.

  But something wasn’t right here.

  Jasmine’s full-on attitude was deliberate.

  Like it’s an act, thought Sarah. An act to hide something. To cover up … what? A lie?

  But why lie?

  “You are sure … absolutely sure … you didn’t hear Amy get up, leave her tent?”

  The girl shook her head. “No. Like I keep saying — I slept through. Besides, who knows what’s lurking out there in the woods?”

  “Um,” Jack stared, “hang on. What do you mean? ‘Lurking’ out there?”

  “You know, like wolves and bears, right?”

  Sarah saw Jack look at her and respond. “Don’t think there are any bears, or wolves for that matter.”

  “Joke, yeah?” she said. “Duh.”

  Then she stood up, signalling that she thought that this interview was over. “Never can be too safe; that’s what I say. So, look — Amy — she’s gone. But you know? Life moves on. Sad, sad, sad. But—”

  And then Jasmine took a step forward.

  And Sarah knew two things coming out of this conversation.

  That she didn’t like the girl at all.

  And she was so glad that her own Chloe bore no resemblance to her.

  “If you’re looking for someone to, er, you know, like, blame; blame Holly Wilson. She led us up that stupid hill. No hill, and well — maybe — I’d still have my friend, hmm?”

  The girl waited.

  Sarah’s instinct suggested that something wasn’t quite right with all this. But for now, there didn’t seem to be anything else to ask about.

  She looked up at Jasmine, the girl’s eyes challenging. Then Jack broke the silence.

  “Thanks, Jasmine.”

  The girl nodded, shrugged, and walked away, putting her earbuds in as she hit the stairs again, while Jack turned to Sarah.

  “And on to Holly?”

  Sarah nodded, stood up to leave.

  *

  Jack and Sarah said goodbye to Mrs Todd at the door, walked across to Sarah’s Rav-4 and climbed in, without saying a word.

  Jack looked across at Sarah as she took out her cell, turned it on.

  “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Yep,” said Sarah. “She’s lying.”

  “Pretty good at it too, got to admit.”

  “Oh, teenage girls — they’re the best. I guess you know that as well as me, hmm?”

  Jack thought back to his own daughter’s teenage years and smiled.

  “Oh, yes. Big question here is why?”

  “Maybe Holly can tell us,” said Sarah, scrolling through messages that were pinging through on her phone. Then: “Aha — think we might have something.”

  Jack waited as Sarah read through a mail.

  She handed the phone over to him. “Take a look. Amy’s phone records for that night.”

  Jack scrolled through the list. “Numbers and names too? How much you pay this guy?”

  “Barter economy, Jack. I do his website for him.”

  “What’s that — ‘I hack anything dot com’?”

  “He’s a cyber security consultant.”

  “Digital crook, more like it—”

  “Just look at the last calls and texts,” said Sarah.

  He laughed and tapped the screen.

  “Hmm. All to the same number. Whole bunch of texts that night.”

  “And a call — jeez — look at the time. One in the morning — the morning she died. So who is it?”

  He scrolled to the list of numbers with an index.

  “Callum Foley. Mean anything to you? Friend of Daniel’s maybe? Think he might know?”

  “I don’t recognise the name.” She looked across at the house. “Maybe we should ask Jasmine, while we’re here?”

  “Oh — I’m sure she’ll plead the Fifth, for sure. Let’s ask Holly, hmm? We can always come back.”

  “Good idea,” said Sarah, starting the engine and pulling out. “Maybe she’ll give us some straight answers.”

  “Don’t bet on it,” said Jack. “The more I hear, the less I trust anyone in this case …”

  8. Holly

  “Oh — Holly is out in the back garden. With the new pups. Think that’s making her feel just a little better. Yesterday was so—”

  The mother left the sentence unfinished.

  Sarah looked around the tiny sitting room. Holly’s mum — and this cottage — a big contrast from the place they’d just left.

  A modest 50s semi in the old housing estate where Sarah herself had lived when she first moved back to Cherringham, two small kids in tow.

  Two bedrooms, a small sitting room. Tiny kitchen with the basics.

  No “Mr Wilson” on the scene.

  But the small house did have a garden area at the back where Mrs Wilson indicated they’d find Holly.

  Sarah nodded as the woman held open the screen door to the garden, Jack following. He always looked over-sized in smal
l spaces like this.

  But though the room was tiny, Sarah noted sweet details here and there. A book shelf, the top lined with pictures of Holly and her mother at various stages.

  A holiday on a beach somewhere.

  Her daughter in costume for what had to be a school play.

  Lot of smiles. Everything orderly. Warm.

  Likewise, the garden. Neatly maintained, a rhododendron at the back, well-trimmed. A wrought-iron bench for sitting, reading, or maybe just decoration.

  In the centre of a square patch of lawn she recognised Holly, squatting with a cream-coloured spaniel, surrounded by four miniature versions of the dog, the puppies clambering over their mother and then onto Holly.

  “Holly — these people. Um, they’re here, helping the Roberts family. Can you talk to them?”

  And though the girl was playing with the puppies, Sarah could see that Holly had no smile and her eyes were puffy.

  For this girl … a tough couple of weeks.

  Holly looked at them, holding one of those puppies close.

  “Oh. Mrs Edwards?”

  “Hi, Holly,” said Sarah.

  “I’ll leave you,” the mum said, stepping back into the house, “to chat.”

  The screen door shut behind her.

  Sarah leaned down, to pet one of the eager puppies.

  And talk to the girl.

  *

  Jack watched Sarah go through the timeline of that night with Holly. And, once again, he had to marvel, not only at how carefully she went over things, but — with this girl, still visibly upset after yesterday’s funeral — how sensitively she did it.

  But Jack also had a few questions.

  To see if her story matched Jasmine’s.

  “Holly,” he said, taking a breath, trying not to make this any harder that it had to be. “You said, you saw Amy getting into her tent, that night, yes?”

  The girl nodded.

  “But you didn’t see or hear her leave the camp, right?”

  She shook her head.

  “No, I didn’t. Didn’t see her again—”

  She hesitated. Took a breath.

  “Not after we all said goodnight.”

  “And Jasmine was in her tent too?”

  “Yes. We all were.”

  “Jasmine,” said Jack. “She’s a friend, hmm?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jack smiled, treading as softly as he knew.

  “Good friend? Best friend?”

  He saw Holly swallow. “Friend,” she said.

  “And — do you mind me … can I ask the same question … about Amy? You don’t have to—”

  “No. It’s okay. Amy, well she was my friend,” said Holly. “And she was awesome.”

  “I know,” said Jack. “Everybody says that.”

  Jack saw Sarah look at him. Curious where this was going.

  And Jack, curious as well.

  Sometimes you ask questions not knowing where they will lead.

  Just had a feeling that they both had to understand as much as they could about that night.

  Then another feeling.

  There’s something else here, Jack thought. Something not being said.

  Jack leaned close and petted one of the puppies, all of them vying for a scratch on the head.

  So cute, he thought, and yes, today, probably a great source of solace for Holly.

  “Going back to that night. Did you hear anything else? Anything at all?”

  The girl looked away.

  “No. Not really.”

  Jack waited. Pretty sure he didn’t have to press the question.

  “But, well, yeah. Maybe something. Though … it was nothing I’m sure.”

  Jack nodded.

  “But, in the middle of the night—”

  “You woke?”

  “Yes. Heard a noise out there. Don’t know. Like a screech? I think it was probably a bird, or a fox, or something.”

  “Kinda … scary … I imagine?” said Sarah.

  “Yeah! It was!”

  Jack nodded, smiled. “That it?”

  Jack watched Holly carefully.

  She’s taking too long answering this question. Way too long.

  “Um, well no. Later. Another noise — just outside my tent. The sound of a twig snapping. Just a noise. Woke me.”

  Jack looked at Sarah.

  Thinking, Yeah. Could be nothing.

  Or …

  “I listened for a minute, then went back to sleep.”

  Jack’s eyes turned to Sarah; a small nod as she picked up the implication.

  “Holly. The twig snapping. Like someone maybe had stepped on it?”

  A nod.

  Jack thinking, Could that have been Amy? Is that when she left, wandered away?

  Torch off.

  “Do you think that was … Amy?” she said. “Going off?”

  “It might have been,” said Jack, not wanting to lie to her, but knowing what she might now be thinking.

  “I just thought, night, in the woods, everyone gets a bit nervous. Hear something, don’t want to shout out, then you feel a bit of …”

  She looked down at the puppy rolling in her lap.

  Then, up to Sarah, then to Jack.

  “Fear.”

  Then suddenly her face brightened. “Hey, you two want one of these? I mean, once they’re weaned. You’d love one.”

  And Jack, who had been crouched low, stood up, laughing. “I think my springer, Riley, might object.”

  Sarah followed suit. “As would my dog Digby—”

  “Love that name!”

  “Digby already thinks he runs the house.”

  Jack saw Sarah reach down and pet the puppy in Holly’s lap.

  “No worries,” she said. “Got tons of friends at school desperate for them.”

  “Thanks Holly for talking. And we’re so sorry … for everything that happened.”

  Jack stood, but then just as he was about to turn away, he stopped.

  “Holly — one last thing. That way back to Cherringham, up above the lake. Why that way?”

  “Well, I had Jasmine complaining all the time about whenever are we going to get back. It was a bit steep — but that was the most direct way. I didn’t think … didn’t know—”

  “Of course. But that makes me think,” Jack said. “About that day. The hike there. Anything you noticed. About Amy. Anything at all?”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t notice her using her phone a lot?” said Sarah.

  The girl shook her head.

  “Not really. But well, we all looked at our phones. Good service just about everywhere these days.”

  Jack waited. Holly biting her lip …

  “Always lots of messages. It’s normal.”

  Jack nodded. Waited.

  “Oh, I nearly forgot,” he said, smiling at Sarah. “We had another question to ask you. What was that name we came across? Callum something, hmm?”

  “Hmm,” said Sarah. “Oh yes. Callum Foley.”

  “That’s it,” said Jack. “Don’t suppose you know the name, do you, Holly?”

  “Callum?” said Holly, her eyes flicking from Jack to Sarah and back. “Um, yeah. He’s Jasmine’s boyfriend.”

  “That’s right,” said Jack. “I knew there was a connection, just couldn’t place it.”

  “He at school with you, Holly?” said Sarah.

  “Um, no,” said Holly. “He works.”

  “He’s a bit older, hmm?” said Jack.

  He saw Holly nod, nervously.

  “Any idea where we’d find him?” said Sarah. “We probably ought to have a quick chat with him.”

  “Um. Think it’s that garage. Up on the top road?”

  “I know the one,” said Jack. “They look after my car there. How about that?”

  He smiled and looked at Sarah. Then back at Holly.

  “Thanks again, Holly. And enjoy those pups. Seems like you’re taking good care of them!”

 
And at that, Holly finally smiled as Jack led the way to the screen door, out of the tiny garden.

  And away from the girl who quite clearly missed her friend.

  With Jack thinking.

  Maybe things are falling into place at last.

  9. Callum

  Jack sat in the back office of Bulstrode’s Auto Repairs, looking into the repair shop where guys in overalls busied themselves around half-a-dozen cars in different bays.

  Nice and quiet in here but, out there, a clamour of activity.

  Usually he came up here to get the Sprite serviced. Ted Bulstrode was always trying to get him to trade it in for something bigger, showing him round the models for sale.

  But the Sprite — though a squeeze — was still the perfect car for these narrow Cotswolds lanes. And she had speed when he needed it.

  He watched Ted go over to a couple of guys working on a car up on a ramp.

  The guys stopped working, looked over at Jack behind the glass.

  Bit of a discussion back and forth with Ted. But Ted — the boss — making the deal clear.

  Then, one of the guys — tall, razor cut, thick neck from working out Jack guessed — shook his head, put down his wrench, wiped his hands on a cloth and headed over.

  Jack sat back in the office chair.

  The door opened — a blast of music from the workshop as the guy entered — then silence again as he shut the door behind him.

  “Ted says I’ve got to talk to you,” said the guy, still standing.

  “Callum Foley, yes?” said Jack.

  “You a cop?”

  “No. Friend of Mr and Mrs Roberts.”

  “Never heard of them.”

  “Amy’s parents.”

  “Oh … yeah. That girl that got drowned. What’s that got to do with me?”

  Jack gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk.

  “Why don’t you sit down, Callum?”

  But Callum stayed standing.

  “I’m in the middle of a job. And I’m only here ’cos the boss told me I had to. So, I’m not stopping till you tell me why I’m in here, wasting my time.”

  Jack sat back in his chair.

  “Oh — that’s the easy part, Callum. You’re here because you’re going to tell me why you sent Amy Roberts five texts the night she died. Why you called her just half-an-hour before she disappeared. Half-an-hour, Callum my friend. And why you — as far as I can see — are the last person to have any contact with her before she drowned?”