by Lisa Stone
Jan clamped her hand over her mouth to stop herself from crying out. Petrified, she forced herself to keep quiet and wait. The hand disappeared from view, but the noise coming from the roof continued. How many were up there? She’d only seen one hand, but the noises suggested more. She looked up and tried to track their movements. Why were they on the roof and not going to the food? Did they know she was in the shed? Surely not. Unless they’d been watching her earlier. Fear gripped her.
More scratching noises, and then it went quiet. What were they doing? Were they still up there? She was half expecting to see them appear on the lawn, running towards the food. She kept her phone camera at the ready and waited, but it went quiet. She listened, straining against the silence. Where were they? Had they gone?
Suddenly she heard a movement at the door. Dear God! They were trying to turn the key and lock her in. Throwing herself at the door, she forced it open, just in time to get out. Without looking back, she ran up the lawn to the cottage and let herself in. As she did, she heard a woman’s voice call from the woods, ‘No, don’t do that!’ The same voice she’d heard before.
Fighting for breath, Jan locked the back door and fled upstairs to the spare bedroom at the back. Without switching on the light, she crossed to the window, dialling 999 as she went. She could barely keep her phone still for trembling, but there was a torch beam in the woods.
‘I’m Jan Hamlin, I live in Ivy Cottage, Wood Lane,’ she said as soon as she was connected. ‘There were intruders in my garden again just now and I think they are in the woods. I can see a torch. Please come quickly.’
‘Ivy Cottage, Coleshaw Woods?’ the operator checked.
‘Yes.’
‘We’ll have someone there as soon as possible. Stay in the property and keep your windows and doors locked.’
‘Yes. I will. Please hurry.’
Jan kept her phone at the ready, but as she looked the torch light disappeared. She had no doubt that by the time the police arrived there’d be nothing to find, just like the last time.
FIFTY-FOUR
A little after six o’clock the following evening, Ian pulled into Dells Lane. He drove to the end of the road and parked a few spaces back from Anne’s house, as he’d done the previous night. It had been raining most of the day and although it had stopped now, a damp mist hung in the air. Tinged with orange from the street lamps, it gave everything a ghostly hue.
Anne’s house was in darkness, her car wasn’t parked outside and the garage door was closed. Ian assumed she hadn’t returned from work yet, so he’d wait in his car just as he had the night before, only this time he’d make sure he spoke to her. According to her neighbour she would return to walk her dogs at some point, for they weren’t the type of dogs you could ask someone else to walk. Ian struggled to reconcile the Anne he and Emma knew – a gentle, sensitive midwife – with a woman who kept dangerous dogs. But then Ian would be the first to admit he was struggling with a lot of what he’d learnt in the past few days.
At 6.20 he saw headlamps as a car pulled into Dells Lane. He tracked its progress in his wing mirror, but it parked halfway down the lane. Not Anne. Not this time. He blew into his hands to keep them warm and then turned on the car’s heater. His gaze wandered to the common. The mist was thicker there, drawn to the damp soil of the turf; it hovered unnaturally in the frost-laden night air.
Ten minutes passed, then another set of headlamps appeared at the end of Dells Lane. Ian straightened in his seat and monitored the car’s progress as it came steadily towards him. He ducked as it passed, then raised his head and watched Anne park her car in the road outside her house. He waited until she got out, then opened his car door. ‘Anne!’ he called, walking swiftly towards her. ‘It’s Ian Jennings.’
‘Ian! Whatever are you doing here?’ she asked, shocked.
‘I need to talk to you,’ he said, and followed her to her front door.
She put her key into the lock. ‘Why? Is Emma unwell?’
‘No, but I have to speak to you about the Moller Clinic.’
The colour drained from her face.
‘It won’t take long,’ he added. ‘I have some questions.’
‘What about?’ She kept one hand on the door.
‘You know the Moller Clinic and the work they do there?’
‘I’ve heard of it.’
‘I’ve found out recently that both Emma’s parents and mine used the clinic, and they were given the same donor sperm. Emma and I share the same biological father. It could be the reason we can’t have healthy babies.’ Ian would have preferred to say all this inside, but it was clear Anne wasn’t going to invite him in.
‘How do you know this?’ Anne asked, turning slightly to meet his gaze.
‘Carstan Moller told me, eventually.’
‘Did he?’ she asked, surprised. ‘Did he tell you who the donor was?’
‘No. He said it was confidential.’ Ian couldn’t tell her he’d accessed the clinic’s files.
‘I am sorry, Ian. That should never have happened. It must have come as a huge shock for you and Emma, but I don’t see how I can help you.’
‘I’d like you to tell me what you know about the clinic.’
‘Nothing. I was just aware of its existence.’
‘Have you ever had any dealings with Carstan or Edie Moller as a midwife?’
‘No. There’s no reason for me to.’
‘So you’ve never come into contact with them?’
‘No. Sorry, Ian, I’m afraid I can’t help you. Now, I’ve just returned from work. I must have something to eat before I take the dogs out. Would you like me to visit you and Emma tomorrow?’ She turned the key and opened her front door.
‘I’ll ask her and let you know,’ Ian said.
He returned down the path to his car as Anne let herself in.
She was lying. Her name was all over Moller’s files and her car had been at his clinic. The expression on her face when he’d first mentioned Moller had been one of shock and possibly guilt. Anne wasn’t a good liar – but what was she hiding? She’d been so warm and friendly when she’d been their midwife, but now she was guarded and hadn’t been able to get rid of him quickly enough. Yes, she’d just come home from work and wanted dinner before she took the dogs out, but Ian hadn’t seen or heard any dogs eager to be let out. He supposed they could be caged out the back, but wouldn’t they have barked when they heard her voice?
Ian turned his car around and drove to the other end of Dells Lane. He parked between cars, switched off the headlights and prepared to wait. At some point Anne would leave to take the dogs for a walk and he would follow her and perhaps try again. He’d come here hoping for answers, but now he had even more questions. Some that he could barely consider and made his stomach churn. All those dead babies listed in Moller’s files with Anne’s initials beside them. She must be involved. Could it be that under cover of darkness she was using her van to transport baby parts to laboratories for research? She would get paid a fee. Is that why she’d been so on edge and had lied? Or even more macabre, was she burying dead babies to cover up a crime? Ian shuddered at the possibility.
At 7.30 Ian saw headlamps in his wing mirror coming from the far end of the lane where Anne lived. Was she in her car or the van? He kept his head turned away as she passed. She was in the van. It stopped at the end of Dells Lane and indicated to turn right, the same as last night. Ian started his car but waited until she’d pulled out and had made the turn before he followed.
He kept a safe distance between them so she wouldn’t be able to identify him in her mirrors. The fog helped. It had thickened in the last half an hour, and sometimes all he could see of her van was the red glow of its taillights.
He followed her along the High Road that ran through Melton and out the other side. They were now heading towards Merryless. Ian knew this road. He kept his distance and concentrated on the taillights. A little further along, Anne took the turning signposted to Coleshaw Woods. I
an dropped back so she wouldn’t become suspicious. There was only the two of them now, driving on this side of the road, with the occasional car coming in the opposite direction. Half a mile or so further on she turned left down a single-track lane.
Ian waited until her taillights had disappeared before he followed. The lane didn’t go anywhere but into the woods. He’d come here for walks in the summer as a child. It had been pleasant then, but now the mist and darkness gave it a sinister edge, which added to his unease. He admired Anne’s tenacity to come here all alone. But was it really necessary to come this far to walk dogs? Were they really that dangerous? Surely there were less isolated places she could have gone? Unless she wasn’t walking dogs at all but burying dead babies. In which case it would be ideal. Ian grimaced at the thought.
Ian pulled over and stopped. The lane ran out shortly so Anne would have to park before long, and he didn’t want to get too close. Slowly opening his car door, he listened. He could hear an engine idling somewhere further up the track, just around the bend. He assumed it was the van. It stopped. From memory he guessed she had parked close to the thickest part of the woods, but it was impossible to see in the dark and mist.
Ian quietly got out of his car and stood very still, listening, senses on high alert. All that could be heard was a light breeze stirring the treetops. He needed to get closer to see what she was doing, but there was no moon to show him the way. Taking out his phone, he pointed it down and switched on the torch. Keeping close to the trees, with the torch beam concentrated on the ground, he gingerly made his way along the edge of the track, until he came to the bend. The outline of her van appeared and he quickly switched off the torch, stepped back, and tucked himself behind the trees. As he watched he saw Anne get out of her van and go to the rear doors. She was wearing a quilted jacket, Wellington boots and jeans, so looked dressed for walking dogs, although he couldn’t see any leads. Ian stayed perfectly still and watched as she glanced around and then opened the rear doors.
He stared in horror and amazement, unable to believe what he was seeing, as two little figures jumped out and disappeared into the woods. Not dogs. Definitely not. They looked like children. Jesus! What the hell was Anne doing? It was worse than he could have imagined. Leaving the rear doors open, she went after them, disappearing into the dense woods.
Breaking out in a cold sweat, Ian followed, moving slowly and stealthily through the trees. He couldn’t see them, but he could hear them further up. They were in the thickest part of the forest now. They were a lot faster than Anne. He caught glimpses of her jacket through the trees a little way ahead as she struggled to keep up. They appeared to be trying to outrun her. Were they trying to escape? But who were they and why were they here? What in heaven’s name was she doing transporting children in a van after dark?
Then he realized, and his heart missed a beat. She was trafficking children. Selling them for money. That must be it. He couldn’t think of another explanation. Pretending she had dangerous dogs, she was actually making money from the sale of children. He had to act fast to save them.
Ian took another couple of steps, hiding himself behind the trees as he went after her. He’d rescue the children and then phone the police and let them deal with Anne. Suddenly a twig snapped under his foot. Shit. He froze, hoping they hadn’t heard. All movement stopped. The wood fell silent. Then Anne’s voice called out, ‘Who’s there?’
Ian stayed where he was, hardly daring to breathe. His stomach churned and sweat trickled down his neck. Then there was movement from somewhere in the forest. Something was running towards him. He couldn’t see what. He should get back to the car and phone the police from there. He turned and fled, ran as fast as he could through the undergrowth. Out of the woods and onto the track. He could hear footsteps behind him, gaining on him, then Anne’s voice again: ‘Stop! Come here, now!’
He looked behind him, lost his balance, tripped and fell. Down, down. No time to save himself before his head hit the ground. Pain shot through his skull as the trees began to shimmer, swimming in and out of focus. He tried to shout for help, but the cry died in his throat as he began to lose consciousness. The last image he saw before darkness engulfed him was of a small face looking down on him. Then nothing.
FIFTY-FIVE
Jan stood at the open window in the back bedroom, her phone in her hand, watching and listening. It was quiet in the woods now. Not a sound. She’d rushed up here, hoping for a better view, one that would allow her to take another video clip, but it hadn’t happened. She’d seen two torch beams in the woods, the same woman’s voice, and then nothing.
She wasn’t going to call the police again. It would only be a repeat of last night. By the time they arrived there would be nothing for them to investigate, and last night she’d got the feeling the officer they’d sent had thought she was wasting police time.
Reluctantly, Jan closed the window and admitted defeat. She wouldn’t be replacing the video Chris had deleted, now or in the future. This had been her last chance. She’d already telephoned Camile and said she was sorry, but she needed to leave the cottage as soon as possible as she wasn’t happy here. Camile had taken it very well, considering, and said she would book a flight straight away and would text her once she’d landed. Jan had agreed to stay until she arrived.
She came out of the bedroom and went downstairs. Whatever was happening in the woods would remain a mystery. She checked the front and back doors were secure and the electricity meter was topped up, then she sat on the sofa beside Tinder and rubbed his head. She’d miss him, but she couldn’t wait to leave the cottage and live in the town again, where electricity was constant and there were no strange happenings in dark woods. As soon as Camile arrived, she’d be off. She’d already begun packing and felt ready to restart her life: apply for jobs, meet old friends, maybe even have another long-term relationship. If she could meet an uncomplicated, honest guy.
Her thoughts went to Chris, who had seemed so honest and straightforward at the start. Now, she had no idea who he was or how he fitted into whatever was going on around here. She remembered the look on his and Anne’s faces when she’d come across them in the woods – guilty, almost as if they’d been caught out.
She stopped stroking Tinder and looked up. Of course! Why hadn’t she made the connection before! The woman’s voice she’d heard in the woods was Anne’s. She was sure of it. No wonder it had sounded familiar. But what the hell was she doing in the woods at night?
Grabbing her jacket and keys, Jan let herself out of the front door into the cold, misty air. Hopefully she wasn’t too late and Anne was still there. Jumping into her car, she pressed the central locking system and switched on the side lights only. They gave just enough light so she could see where she was going without being seen. She drove as fast as she could along Wood Lane to where it joined the track leading to Coleshaw Woods. She pulled over onto the bank, out of sight, then cut the engine and lights. Just in time. Headlamps on full beam appeared from the turning, flicking through the mist as the car bumped over the uneven surface. Closer and closer, growing brighter, then a small van appeared and turned into the lane heading towards Merryless. Jan couldn’t see who was driving – visibility was too poor, and the windows seemed to be tinted. But the rear number plate was lit. Jan made a note of the registration on her phone, then headed back to the cottage to report it to the police. Hopefully this was the proof that was needed to start a proper investigation.
FIFTY-SIX
Ian’s eyes slowly opened. Where the hell was he? A light on the ceiling swam in and out of focus. God, his head hurt. Had he been in a car accident? He seemed to remember driving in fog.
Then a voice close by said, ‘You’re awake.’ Anne Long came into view.
Ian started and tried to sit up but collapsed back, his head throbbing. ‘Where am I?’ he gasped, his throat dry. ‘What are you doing?’
‘You’re safe, you’re on the sofa in my house,’ Anne said. ‘You fell and kno
cked yourself out.’
‘Shouldn’t I be in hospital?’ he asked, trying to struggle up again. ‘How long have I been here?’
‘Not long. You should be all right. It wasn’t serious. Have a sip of water.’
She held a glass to his lips and Ian drank. Water had never tasted so good.
‘What do you want with me?’ he asked, confused and frightened.
‘Nothing. I brought you back here to recover. You can go as soon as you feel well enough.’
‘Why didn’t you call an ambulance?’
‘There was no need. You’re not badly hurt.’ She hesitated and set the glass of water on the table. ‘What do you remember from before you fell, Ian?’
He frowned, trying to remember. It began coming back. ‘I remember driving, following your van. It was dark. You turned off into Coleshaw Woods and parked. Jesus! You haven’t got dogs. You’re trafficking children!’ He struggled up and stared around. ‘Where are they? What’s going on? Where are those poor kids now?’
‘Calm down, Ian,’ Anne said, touching his arm. ‘They’re upstairs, asleep. I’m not trafficking children, far from it. You have to trust me.’
‘Trust you! You lied about knowing Carstan Moller and then you lock children in the back of a van and take them to the woods at night pretending they’re dogs. You’re evil. Sick. I’m going to call the police.’ He jabbed his hand into his trouser pocket for his phone, but it had gone. ‘Where’s my phone?’
‘In your jacket pocket, over there.’ Anne nodded to where his jacket hung on a chair back. ‘You can have it, Ian, but it’s not in your interests to call the police.’
‘Whatever do you mean?’
She looked at him carefully. ‘Ian, things have gone on that you have no idea about. Things you couldn’t begin to guess at in your wildest imagination, and it’s better for you if it stays that way. As soon as you feel well enough, you need to return to Emma, forget everything you have seen this evening and continue your lives.’