by Dan Latus
AND THEN
YOU’RE DEAD
Dan Latus
ROBERT HALE
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter One
The English Borders, Northumberland, 23 September 2014
Home, he thought with a smile as he entered the village. So very good to be home.
He drove past the White Swan, and on past the paper shop and the Co-op. The chip shop was open already, he was slightly surprised to see. A bit early, surely? Town culture catching on, perhaps. 24/7. Or Non-stop, as the Czechs would say. Fish and Chips Non-Stop!
The pothole at the junction where he turned to go up the hill was bigger than ever. Amazing the difference a few days could make. If the council didn’t get their finger out soon the foundations would be washed away. Then they would have an even bigger problem than they had now, budget constraints or not.
Who was the local county councillor now anyway? He must check, and give him or her a call when he had a moment. Tell them to get Highways, or whatever they were called now after the latest reorganization, to pull their finger out.
When he had a moment! When would that be? Knowing Sam and Kyle, there wouldn’t be a spare second for him from the moment he stepped through the door. He smiled again at that thought, relishing the prospect of seeing them in just a couple of minutes. There was no pleasure to match coming home to the people you loved, and who loved you right back. Nothing in the world could compare with that. He should know.
Early evening now, and growing dark. As he approached the entrance to the drive, he sighed happily and steeled himself for the rapturous welcome he would receive as mother and son held out their hands for the gifts he would surely have brought with him. It was part of the ritual of homecoming. He chuckled. He was sure they would love what he had brought them this time.
Surprisingly, the outside light above the porch door was not lit, he noted as he slid into the pool of darkness in front of the garage. He shook his head and gave a wry smile. Sam must have forgotten for once. No doubt she would be rushing around doing all those last minute things before he arrived. Daylight would have just slipped away, its going unnoticed.
Perhaps there was a mini disaster to take care of in the kitchen? Once, the Yorkshire pudding – a dubious foreign dish, to Sam – had remained stubbornly flat, despite all her attention and best efforts. Another time the potatoes had boiled dry. Such things happened, hard as you tried to master local cuisine. You couldn’t always count on everything being perfect.
Mind you, he thought fondly, with Sam things usually were. Perfect, that is. Attention to detail, persistence in the face of failure, determination to get things right were all part of her nature and her upbringing.
The front door was locked. Good! It had taken a while to drum into her head that even here you couldn’t afford to leave doors open these days. There were always opportunist thieves around. Handbags, and what not, could disappear in a trice. That’s how it was now. Everywhere, not just here. But it wasn’t important enough to make you want to stop the world and get off. No way!
He fished out his key and opened the door.
‘Hello! I’m home,’ he called, as he entered the unlit hall.
The absence of light there, too, was another surprise. He closed and locked the door. Then he turned and switched on the hall light and called again, just in case they hadn’t heard him. He stood, waiting, smiling and expectant. Then he frowned. There had been no answering call. More than that, the house was so quiet. Too quiet.
He made his way through to the kitchen, which was also in darkness. He switched on the light, half-expecting to be jumped on by his excited son, eager to surprise him. Nothing happened. There was nobody here. No smell of cooking, either. The cooker was lifeless, and held no pans or dishes. Both hob and oven felt quite cold when he touched them.
He frowned and walked back to the foot of the stairs, which were also in darkness.
‘Sam! Kyle! I’m home.’
Again, no reply.
He shook his head, puzzled, and made his way upstairs to check. A frisson of anxiety ran through his mind as he confirmed that his son and wife were not upstairs, either. In fact, they were not in the house. And no note had been left to explain why.
Now he frowned with worry. It wasn’t like Sam to be absent when he was expected home. Something had happened, obviously. Some sort of emergency, perhaps? Perhaps.
Yet everything had been fine earlier that day when he had last called. No hint of a problem, here or anywhere else, either. Still … something had happened. Obviously. What, though?
He hesitated at the foot of the stairs, uneasy and concerned, and wondering what to do for the best. Nothing like this had ever happened before, even though he had never quite got over his fear that it might. For a long time he had even half-expected it, but not in recent years.
Chapter Two
Sam’s car was still in the garage. He frowned and closed the garage door. What did that mean? They hadn’t needed the car? Probably. They must just have gone somewhere in the village.
So they would be back soon, no doubt full of apologies for not having been here when he arrived. He smiled with relief and shook his head. How stupid he had been to worry prematurely.
Back in the house, he switched on more lights to make the place look normal and welcoming. Then he went through to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee.
At least everything was in order here, as usual, he thought, glancing around. That was one thing you couldn’t fault Sam on. She was unbelievably tidy and orderly. If you took something off, he could hear her saying, you hang it up. If you finished with something, you put it away. As much as possible, she kept things tidy and organized, to everyone’s advantage. Lesson learned early in an untidy life.
He shook his head affectionately. Sam had an uphill battle with their son in that respect. Kyle was not one of Nature’s tidy people. He seemed to have inherited his father’s genes. Wherever he went, Kyle left chaos like a scattergun.
On impulse, he went back upstairs and checked the master bedroom and his son’s room. Both were immaculate. He frowned. So that meant Kyle had not been back here from school. Sam must have met him in the village and gone somewhere from there with him.
The doctor’s? Possibly, but she hadn’t said anythi
ng about either of them having an appointment or feeling unwell when he spoke to her. Somewhere else, then. Shopping, perhaps? The Co-op? But they should have been back by now, if that was where they had gone.
He returned to the kitchen and finished making his coffee. Then he stood near the sink with it, staring out through the window into the gathering darkness beyond, wishing they were here with him. The house was so empty without them, and he had been looking forward so much to them being here when he arrived.
He didn’t stay there for long. It was no good. He couldn’t fool himself. He didn’t even finish the cup of coffee. With an impatient sigh, he poured what was left into the sink and washed it away. He rinsed the cup and put it in the rack. Then he collected an outdoor jacket from the cupboard in the hall and headed for his car. He was going to look for them.
They were not in the Co-op or the newsagents. They were not in the tea shop, either, which in any case was empty by now. Nor were they in any of the other little shops that were still open. And they were not on the street. That seemed to leave the GP’s surgery.
But they were not there, either. The receptionist added that they hadn’t been in earlier, and hadn’t had an appointment anyway. She was sorry. She just hadn’t seen them. He thanked her and left.
At the Church of England Primary School, all the lights were ablaze, but inside he found only a couple of cleaners, women he didn’t know.
‘There’s just us here now,’ a kindly, older woman, said. ‘And we’ll be finished soon ourselves.’
‘I thought my wife and son might be here,’ he said vaguely. ‘I could have given them a lift home.’
The woman smiled her regrets for his wasted journey. He thanked her and turned away.
What did that leave? Friends and acquaintances, he supposed. Maybe they had visited someone, possibly someone in the midst of a domestic crisis. A child or an older person had been rushed to hospital, perhaps, and Sam had been asked to look after things for an hour or two. It could happen. It had happened. Young mothers were often called upon to help at such times.
But he would have expected her to leave a message if she had gone somewhere like that. The absence of a message, a note – anything! – worried him. It worried him a lot. He couldn’t deny it.
He decided the best thing he could do now was return home and ring around a few people. Someone must know where they were.
First he phoned the school secretary, a woman he knew his wife liked and respected.
‘Jack Tait here, Mrs Cummings. I believe you know my wife – and my son, Kyle?’
‘Good evening, Mr Tait. Yes, of course I know them. Is there something I can help you with?’
‘I wondered if you knew if Kyle was in school today.’
‘I believe so, yes.’ There was a pause. Then: ‘Why do you ask?’
He hesitated for a moment but he knew he had no choice now. He had to go on.
‘I’ve just returned from a business trip. I expected to find my wife and Kyle at home but they’re not there. So I wondered if there had been some sort of family emergency, perhaps to do with Kyle.’
‘Well, nothing out of the ordinary has happened to my knowledge, Mr Tait, and I’m sure I would have heard if it had. I’ll check with Mrs Roberts, Kyle’s class teacher, but I’m sure he was in school as normal. If he wasn’t, I’ll let you know.’
He thanked her and ended the call.
Next, he phoned the mother of a little boy he knew Kyle played with sometimes.
‘Hello, Chris. Jack Tait here. You haven’t got Kyle with you, by any chance?’
‘Hi, Jack! No, he’s not here. Should he be?’
Again he hesitated, unsure how much he wanted to confide to a casual acquaintance. He didn’t want to give tongues an opportunity to wag. The village was a small place.
‘I’ve been away on business, Chris. I’ve just got back. Sam and Kyle were not home when I arrived, and I’m trying to find them. That’s all.’
‘Were you expecting them to be there?’
‘Well …’
‘They’ll be off doing something, somewhere. You know what Sam’s like. Maybe gone into town to see a movie or visit MacDonald’s. Gone to the supermarket even?’
‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right,’ he said slowly. ‘I just thought I would try one or two obvious places. Thanks for your help.’
‘No problem. I’m sure they’ll be back soon. Don’t worry.’
But that was it: he was worried. He couldn’t help it. Sam would have said, if she had planned to do something with Kyle. But she hadn’t. She had been looking forward to him coming home. She had said they both were. And he had believed her.
Besides, there were still the old rules. She wouldn’t have forgotten them, surely? Never. They were deeply implanted in both their brains. Even if the need for such an agreement had long since passed, they both would always remember never to give the other reason to worry about an unexpected absence or failure to turn up. That golden rule was second nature to them.
But there was no message anywhere. What did it mean?
After a few more phone calls, he grew even more worried. By 7.30 he had run out of places and people to call. No-one, it seemed, had seen anything of either Sam or Kyle after school had finished that afternoon. Most of the people he called were not even sure if they had even seen Sam and Kyle leave the school together.
He made another cup of coffee and considered his options as calmly as he could. The obvious one now was to call the police and say his family were missing, but he was reluctant to do that. It was a big step to take. Doing so might convert a small problem into a big one. It would also mean making the absence of his wife and son a public matter. He wasn’t sure he was ready for it to go that far, not yet at least.
But he could think of nothing else he could do, and he did want to do something very badly indeed. As the evening wore on, his concern and anxiety steadily increased. He was becoming afraid something bad, really bad, had happened to his family.
Chapter Three
He phoned the local police station. As he had half-expected, his call was transferred to the main police station in the nearest town, and then to somewhere even more distant. Night-time service, he assumed. The person he eventually spoke to, more an auxiliary receptionist than a police officer, wasn’t much help.
‘Unfortunately, the community officer who covers your village is not on duty right now. But we’ll forward a message to him, and he’ll get back to you as soon as he comes back on duty.’
‘When will that be?’
‘First thing in the morning.’
‘Tomorrow?’ he said with exasperation. ‘That’s no good. This is urgent!’
Already it seemed like a lost cause. If he couldn’t speak to a local police officer now, this evening, what was the point?
‘What, exactly, is the problem, sir?’
‘My wife and son are missing. I returned home this afternoon from a business trip to find them missing. I’m worried about them.’
More detail was requested, and given. His name, his full name. Address. Postcode. Phone number. The minutes ticked away. He grew increasingly frustrated. For God’s sake! Were they going to help or not?
‘I understand your concern, sir. Unfortunately, there isn’t anything we can do at the moment. May I suggest you wait until you can talk it over with the local officer in the morning?’
‘You don’t understand. Obviously I’m not making myself clear. I’m seriously worried about my wife and son. And it can’t wait until tomorrow!’
‘The problem, sir, is that we don’t regard someone as missing – officially, that is – for twenty-four hours. Until then, we can’t launch a missing person inquiry.’
‘By then, it might be too late!’ he said with despair.
‘Your wife could simply be visiting someone, or perhaps her car has broken down? There are all sorts of reasons for her not to be at home just now, don’t you think?’
‘No, I don’t. Her
car is still in the garage. I’ve visited and phoned everywhere and everyone I can think of, and no-one seems to know where they are.’
‘Perhaps they’ve just gone for a walk?’
‘In this weather? Just as it was getting dark? Without going home from school with our son first, to dress him properly? I really don’t think so. Besides, it’s nearly nine o’clock now, and it’s been dark for several hours.’
‘Well, I’ll see that the local community officer gives you a call just as soon as I can reach him. I’m sure it will all be sorted out soon.’
And that was that.
What was abundantly clear to him afterwards was that he hadn’t been believed. If Kyle had been alone, it would probably have been a different story. The police would have been out in numbers already for a missing child. But given that he was with his mother, they were inclined to put another interpretation on the situation, and to wait and see.
He could almost see their point of view. Either mother and child had gone out somewhere, and been delayed… . Either that or the mother, the wife, had decided she had had enough and departed for pastures new. Run away with her fancy man, perhaps, or left home for some other reason best known to herself. Perhaps the husband was a violent man? It was possible, and common enough. That was how the police seemed to be looking at it – as a domestic matter. For twenty-four hours, at least.
Well, so it was a domestic matter, but not in the sense the police were inclined to think at this stage. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. He knew that, felt it deep in his bones. Something bad had happened. His growing fear was that it had nothing to do with his village or the people who were in his life now.
He did wonder if they might have gone for a walk, despite what he’d said on the phone. But when he checked the cupboard under the stairs, and saw that the family’s walking boots were all in place, he ruled that out. Sam wouldn’t have taken Kyle walking on the moor, or along by the river, in this cold, wet weather anyway, and certainly not without putting on boots and wet weather clothing. She knew only too well how hazardous it could be on the hills in bad weather without the proper gear.
Next, he looked in the garage again, just in case his eyes had deceived him the first time. They had not. Sam’s little car was still there. He checked inside it but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Apart from a pair of old sunglasses, there was nothing at all in the car itself. The boot was half-full of the usual stuff: an old coat, several shopping bags needed for trips to the supermarket, spare wheel and associated tools. Nothing extra at all. Sam kept the car as tidy as their home.