She hung up before he could say anything else.
‘Pissed,’ he muttered, pushing himself off the sofa. The room swayed, and he swayed with it. The whisky roiled, rising up his throat in a sudden gush. He put his hand over his mouth and ran towards the downstairs loo. But he wasn’t fast enough. Vomit sprayed through his fingers.
He bent over, heaving, as the whisky-fumed puke splashed onto the stripped wooden floorboards. He puked until there was nothing left. When it was finally over, his body was shaking and his cheeks were wet with sweat and tears.
In the background he could hear his phone ringing, but he didn’t have the strength to go and answer it. He collapsed onto the floor, landing in the puddle of vomit. He rolled over onto his back, staring up at the ornate cornice moulding that ran along the edge of the ceiling. He felt his eyes starting to close. He tried hard to keep them open but the weight of exhaustion forced them shut. The moulding disappeared and, soon, everything else did too.
Forty
Time had lost all meaning. She could have been in here days, weeks or months. Her shoulders and neck screamed with pain. She couldn’t feel her hands any longer. The tight plastic had cut into her wrists until they bled. At some point she’d wet herself, and the boot stank of urine. Her wet trousers had hardened as they dried. She was cold. So cold. Shivering uncontrollably. Her teeth chattering, her jaw aching.
She’d managed to shift the iPad, trying to move it closer to her hands. Convinced if she could just touch it with her fingers, she’d be able to send an email. But that had proved impossible. When she’d eventually managed to get it into a position where her hands could touch it, she hadn’t even been able to find the power button. It didn’t stop her trying, though. Even when she realised her movement was causing the plastic cable ties to tighten, she kept going. Until her wrists were rubbed raw and her hands were sticky with blood. It was only when the car swerved around a tight corner and the iPad slid away from her that she realised it was hopeless.
She couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or closed. The dark was intense and all-consuming. Her mind kept drifting to Martin and the children. The idea that she might never see them again was unbearable. Each time her mind travelled to that possibility, she dragged it back. She couldn’t think like that. She was going to get out of here, somehow.
She tried to picture what would happen when he stopped the car. What would he do? She wondered if he had a weapon – something heavy, like a hammer or a shovel. She hated him. He’d killed Lauren. He was a killer. She repeated it over and over, making herself believe it.
She’d known his reputation before anything happened between them. A ladies’ man. A wandering eye. Can’t keep it inside his trousers. She’d heard all the things people had said about him. When they first got together, it was part of the attraction. Because she’d never been looking for someone to save her. She didn’t need saving. She hadn’t wanted some easy excuse to end her marriage. She loved Martin. Loved the life they’d built together, loved her home and her kids and her job. All of it. Except…
Martin was away so much. And when he wasn’t away, he was still barely present. Louise knew he hadn’t always been like that, but when she cast her mind back over their years together, she couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he’d changed. All she knew, with increasing certainty as each month passed, was that something had gone wrong between them, and she didn’t know how to fix it. Derek had been the perfect way of taking her mind off everything that was wrong with her marriage. But all the time, she’d been having sex with a murderer. The thought chilled her even more than the frigid air.
Suddenly, the car slowed and then stopped. Her ears hummed in the silence that came as the engine was switched off. She’d longed for this moment, but now that it had finally happened, she was terrified. She held her breath, her ears straining to hear any sound through the silence. Nothing at first. And then the low rumble of a man’s voice. She thought, at first, he was speaking to her. Then she realised. There was someone else with him.
The car creaked as doors opened and they got out. The doors slammed shut, followed by the heavy crunch of footsteps. She cowered back into the furthest corner of the boot, but there was nowhere to hide. The bright glare of a torch, too bright after the darkness, blinding her.
‘No, no, no, no.’ She pressed her body tighter against the back of the boot. A dark shadow appeared behind the light. Darker and wider and more terrifying than she’d imagined. She started screaming, her legs kicking out, but there was nothing she could do as his hand reached in, grabbed her arm and dragged her up and out.
She fell hard onto the stony ground. More pain shot through her shoulder and elbow. But she didn’t care about the pain. All she cared about was getting away. She tried to stand, but with her hands still tied behind her back, she couldn’t do it.
The bright light was shining down on her. She could just make out his shape, behind the light. Only one person. She looked around, but couldn’t see anyone else. The torch went out and she was plunged once again into darkness.
He grabbed her arms and pulled her off the ground. He held on to her, his body pressed into her back.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, his breath warm against the side of her face.
‘Bastard.’
She let her head drop forward and then, dredging up every last bit of strength, she threw it back as fast and hard as she could.
He screamed and staggered back, letting her go. She ran, stumbling into the darkness, not caring where she went. The only thing that mattered was staying alive. And that meant getting as far away as possible, as quickly as she could. Before he killed her just like he’d killed Lauren.
She ran towards the trees. No time to look around and think about where else she could go. Dark shapes of trees crowded into her, rough ground beneath her feet. Stones and the thick roots of ancient woodland that she tripped and stumbled over as she ran. Branches cut across her face. She could hear him behind her, getting closer. She tried to focus, but her mind was skittering and slipping, and all she could do was keep running. Up ahead, a shade of pale grey, moonlight trickling along a narrow path. She swerved left, onto the path, narrowly avoiding a tree trunk that had fallen across the path. She jumped over it and kept running.
And suddenly something changed. There were no footsteps following her. She stopped running, held her breath so she could hear properly. Listening out for the crunch of feet on dead branches and the crashing sound as he pushed through the overgrown woodland. But there was nothing.
She lifted her head, looking at the grey sky through the pattern of leaves and branches. Her breath was coming in short, sharp bursts that were too loud in the silence of the dark night. She looked around, trying to work out which way she could go. But the choice was limited to carrying on down this narrow path and hoping it led to a way out, or going back the way she’d come. She gave herself a moment for her breathing to slow down and her legs to stop shaking. And then she ran forward, deeper into the heart of the forest.
She knew she had to keep quiet, but she couldn’t manage it. Each time a branch whipped across her face unexpectedly, each time she stumbled over the twisted root of a tree, she cried out. But she ran on regardless, knowing the only thing that mattered was getting out of here.
Her foot caught in something and she fell before she could stop herself. With her hands tied behind her back, she had no way of protecting herself as she flew forward and landed face first on the wet, rocky ground. She must have twisted her head sideways at the last minute, because it was the right side of her face that got the worst of it. A blinding pain across her cheekbone, a burst of liquid in her mouth that she knew was blood. She lay, winded, knowing she had to get up but not knowing how she would manage it.
And then, out of nowhere, the shuffle of feet through the dead foliage, the noise too loud and too close. No. No, no, no. She tried to scrabble forward but her body wouldn’t do what it was meant to. Hands on her shoulders, pulling her,
dragging her, rolling her over until she was lying on her back.
Too many things happening for her mind to process. The blood streaming down her face. The agonising pain in her left ankle. The plastic cable ties cutting into her wrists. The shadow of the person standing over her.
As her eyes adjusted to the dark, the shadow became clearer. She blinked, but it didn’t make any difference. When she looked again, her eyes saw the same thing. Except it didn’t make any sense. Because the person who’d chased her through the woods and was standing over her now: it wasn’t Derek.
Forty-one
As they drove to Charlton, Dee told Martin about Louise’s encounter with Nigel the previous day.
‘She’d planned to meet him this morning. She was going to tell him she couldn’t help him.’
‘And you think that’s who she was with when I saw her?
‘It seems likely,’ Dee said. ‘She’d arranged to meet him on the pier, but if it was raining maybe they changed their plans.’
‘Shit.’ Martin banged his fist against the dashboard. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’
‘Try to stay calm,’ Dee said. ‘Losing it now isn’t going to help anyone.’
‘You don’t understand.’ Martin was practically shouting. Dee reached across and put her hand on his arm, but he shook it off.
‘It’s him,’ Martin said. ‘Nigel’s taken her.’
‘We don’t know that,’ Dee said sharply.
‘Yes we do!’ Martin held up his phone. ‘She’s in Charlton, right? Nigel has a house there. Used to belong to his father and now the family use it as a second home. He bored me senseless one evening at the golf club telling me all about it. Drive faster. We need to get there as quickly as possible. And we need to call the police. Now.’
‘I’ve already done that.’
Dee told him about her earlier conversation with Rachel.
‘That was over an hour ago,’ Martin said. ‘Can you call her back and see if she’s spoken to him? And tell her about the house. If she knows about the house, she might take this a bit more seriously.’
‘You do it,’ Dee said. ‘Use my phone if you want. It’s in my bag. You’ll find Rachel’s number in my call list.’
She gave Martin the code for her phone and listened as he called Rachel and spoke to her. She couldn’t hear Rachel’s side of the conversation, but heard enough to know the police had already learned about the house in Charlton.
‘Hang on,’ Nigel said. ‘She’s driving. I’ll put you on speakerphone.’
‘Driving where?’ Rachel asked, her voice tinny through the phone speaker.
‘Where do you think?’ Dee said. ‘She’s his wife, Rachel. He can’t sit at home doing nothing.’
‘You need to stay away,’ Rachel said.
‘Why?’
‘Because I’ve spoken with Nigel’s wife and she doesn’t know where he is. But she thinks he might be at Charlton because that’s where he likes to go when he wants to be by himself.’
‘Except he’s not by himself,’ Dee said. ‘Louise is with him.’
‘I’ve spoken to my colleagues at Chichester,’ Rachel said. ‘They’re sending someone to check out the house. As soon as they’ve done that, I’ll call you back and let you know what’s going on. In the meantime Dee, I need you to stay away. Okay?’
‘Okay.’
Dee motioned at Martin to end the call.
‘You’re not serious?’ he said.
‘Of course not.’ Dee smacked his arm. ‘What do you think I am?’
‘Who is he?’
She’d been waiting for the question ever since getting in the car.
‘She told me it wasn’t anyone I knew.’
‘But you didn’t believe her.’
‘No,’ Dee said. ‘I didn’t. Look. We’re almost at Charlton. Maybe you should wait and ask her yourself.’
‘Or maybe you could tell me who you think it is, and that way I can at least prepare myself.’
‘Derek French.’
‘You cannot be serious,’ Martin said after a moment.
‘It’s just a hunch. I don’t know for sure.’
‘You really think she’d have an affair with someone that fucking plastic?’
Dee smiled. Plastic was the perfect word to describe Derek. The sort of shiny, slightly slippery cheap plastic that would be illegal in a few years because it was so bad for the environment.
‘What am I going to do?’ Martin said.
‘You’re going to find her,’ Dee said. ‘And worry about everything else after you’ve done that.’
Following his directions, Dee turned left down a narrow road that was more of a track than a proper road. The track ended abruptly in a dead end. When Dee parked the car, the lights switched off and the world outside was plunged into darkness. It felt as if they’d arrived in the middle of nowhere.
‘There’s nothing,’ Martin said. ‘We’ve come to the wrong place. Shit. Where is she if she’s not here?’
‘It’s too dark to tell what’s here,’ Dee said. ‘Come on, let’s get out of the car and see what we can find. Quietly. We don’t want to anyone to know we’re here.’
The cold air hit her as she got out, shutting the door gently and waiting for Martin to do the same.
‘What now?’ he whispered.
Gradually, Dee was able to make out shapes in the darkness as her eyes adjusted. She took a step forward, her hands out in front of her, then another step. Touched something cold and hard. Metal. She felt the shape with her fingers, identified it as a gate. Feeling her way along the structure, she found the handle, pushed down on it and the gate opened. Creaking loudly.
‘What was that?’
Martin was beside her, breathing too loudly in the silence of the night.
‘Come on,’ Dee whispered.
She took his arm and, still holding the gate so it couldn’t move, shoved Martin through the gap before following him. She could see that the gate led onto a path that, in turn, led to a single-storey structure of some sort.
They stood for a moment, side by side on the narrow path, waiting to see if anyone had heard the gate creaking. After what felt like an hour but was probably closer to five minutes, Dee took her phone out of her pocket and switched on the torch. Now, she could see they were standing in the garden of a squat stone cottage with a thatched roof and a red front door. They crept closer, walking around the cottage, peering through the windows, trying to see inside. But there was nothing to see. The house was in complete darkness and there was no sign anyone was in there.
‘Look.’ Martin grabbed Dee’s arm.
The garden backed onto some woods. A line of trees, long branches swaying in the breeze. And parked in front of the trees, Louise’s red SUV. A series of images played through Dee’s mind, none of them good.
‘Let’s try in there,’ she said, pointing at the trees. ‘I think we should split up. It’s our best chance of finding her. You’ve got a torch on your phone? Good. Turn that on and switch your phone to silent.’
When he’d done this, Dee dialled his number and waited for him to answer.
‘Put me on speakerphone,’ she said. ‘I’ll do the same. This way, we’ll know if either of us gets into trouble.’
‘No,’ Martin said. ‘I can’t let you go by yourself. It’s too dangerous.’
‘It’s no more dangerous for me than it is for you.’
‘Ed would kill me if I didn’t stay with you.’
‘No he wouldn’t.’ Dee was pretty sure Ed actually would want to kill Martin if he found out, but she wouldn’t tell if Martin didn’t. ‘All Ed would care about is finding Louise as quickly as possible.’
‘I am not letting you go into those woods by yourself.’
‘You don’t have a choice. I’m going this way. You follow that path on the left.’
She walked away before he could protest. She couldn’t stop him following her if he absolutely insisted, but she hoped he’d be sensible enough to realise th
at wasn’t the most effective way of finding his wife.
‘Dee?’ Martin’s voice, whispering out of the phone she was using to navigate her way through the thick, overgrown path.
‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘Have you found something?’
‘I wanted to make sure you’re okay.’
‘I’m fine,’ Dee said. ‘Now shush and let me focus on not tripping over anything.’
She would never have admitted it, but the further she went into the woods, the more grateful she was for Martin’s presence on the other end of the phone.
‘What if we don’t find her?’ Martin said, after a few minutes.
‘We will.’
Any other scenario wasn’t worth thinking about. Louise was her cousin and oldest friend. Their lives were inextricably bound up in each other’s.
Branches hung across the path and she had to push them out of her way as she walked deeper into the forest. She’d expected silence, but the forest seemed alive. At first, the constant noise kept making her jump. Animals squealing, creatures shuffling in the undergrowth, the creak of trees and branches swaying in the wind. But after a while, she became used to it and thought that, if all the noises suddenly stopped, it wouldn’t feel right somehow.
When she reached a fork in the path, she used her torch to peer down both alternatives, trying to work out the best way to go. The path on her right was narrow and looked less used, while the one on her left was wider and less overgrown. Dee chose the right path. If Nigel had taken Louise out here to harm her, he was going to do that somewhere no one would find them.
But getting through the path wasn’t easy. Despite the cold, Dee was soon sweating from the effort of pushing heavy branches out of her way. After fifteen minutes, and with no sign of the path becoming more accessible, she started to wonder if she’d made a mistake.
‘How are you getting on?’ she asked Martin.
And right then, before he could answer, someone screamed.
When the Dead Speak Page 26
