The Carlswick Affair

by SL Beaumont

  Chapter 27

  At seven-thirty pm, just as he was preparing to leave the manor and join Andy and Steph at the café, James received a text from Andy.

  Andy: Get ya hands off Steph and let her come to work.

  James: Sadly, she’s not with me. She was gonna visit Mikey on her way to the café.

  James scrolled through his mobile and found Stephanie’s number and called. It rang six times and then went to voicemail. He tried again and then sent her a text asking her to call him.

  Frowning, he telephoned the hospital and was put through to Mrs Morgan in Michael’s room. After enquiring about Michael, whose condition hadn’t changed, he asked if Stephanie was there.

  “No, James. I haven’t seen her today, although she was planning to visit,” she replied. “Is everything okay?”

  “I’m not sure,” James said. “Can you get Steph to call me if you see her?”

  He hung up, feeling a cold hand clutching his heart.

  He called Andy. She still hadn’t turned up at the café. It was now eight o’clock.

  Taking a deep breath, he made a decision and called Wakefield House. Vince answered formally.

  “Hello, it’s James Knox, is Stephanie there, please?”

  There was a brief pause.

  “No, James, we haven’t seen her since she left on the back of your bike this morning,” Vince said, every word dripping with disapproval.

  James ignored his tone and said, “I’m worried about her – she appears to be missing.”

  “What do you mean, missing?” Vince said.

  “Well, I dropped her home around five-thirty this afternoon to pick up her car. She was going to visit her friend Michael in hospital on her way to work at the café at seven pm. But she hasn’t been to either place and she isn’t answering her mobile,” James said.

  Vince cursed on the other end of the line. “Her car is not here,” he said.

  “Well, if she isn’t home, I’m going to start searching the road from the village to there in case she has had an accident,” James said.

  “We’ll take it from here,” Vince said and hung up.

  “Whatever,” James muttered down the disconnected phone line. He tapped another text to Andy.

  James: No one knows where she is. I’m going to look for her.

  Andy: What can I do?

  James: Stay there in case she turns up.

  Andy: Ok. Keep me updated.

  James grabbed his leather jacket and helmet and shoved a flashlight in his pocket. He bolted down the back staircase through the kitchen and out to the garages. The house was strangely quiet. Where was everyone?

  James drove his Vespa quickly to the village and turned left onto the road towards Wakefield House. He put his headlights on full and reaching into this pocket, pulled out the flashlight and switched it on. He drove slowly, weaving slightly so that his headlights covered the road and swinging the flashlight in a wide arc over the hedges that bordered the lane. After five minutes, he rounded a bend and saw flashlights ahead of him.

  He pulled to a stop in front of Vince, Max and four men whom he didn’t recognise. Max looked James up and down appraisingly. Remaining seated on his Vespa, James removed his helmet and held out his hand to Max.

  “James Knox, sir,” he said politely.

  Max didn’t move. He just glared at James, who lowered his hand.

  “No sign of her then?” Vince asked.

  James shook his head.

  “I didn’t know she was still seeing you.” Max finally spoke, disdainfully.

  “She is,” James replied simply. Keep your temper, he told himself.

  “You do know her boyfriend is back?” Max asked slyly.

  “Ex-boyfriend,” James corrected.

  “What have you got to do with her being missing? You are the last one to see her,” Max spoke accusingly.

  “I wouldn’t be wasting my time looking for her if I knew where she was. What do you know about her whereabouts? Are you hiding her at the house, so that she can’t see me?” James was done being polite.

  “It may surprise you to know, young man, that I have more important things to deal with than who my daughter is dating, regardless of how I feel about his pedigree,” Max answered condescendingly.

  “What? Important things like buying stolen art from my brother?” James said.

  “I beg your pardon,” Max said turning on him, his eyes blazing.

  “Let’s keep going towards the village,” Vince interrupted, putting his hand on Max’s shoulder. “Arguing out here isn’t going to find her.”

  James and Max grudgingly agreed.

  James swung the Vespa around and fell in beside the men, driving slowly. They all moved quietly, flashlights scanning the road and the countryside. From this direction the lane sloped gently down the valley towards the village and the fields were visible over the top of the hedgerows. As they rounded the corner, James’s headlights caught on a flash of purple through a hole in a hedge on their left.

  “Here,” he shouted, slowing to a stop and pointing his flashlight at the hedge. He jumped off the bike, pulling it onto its stand. He remembered passing a gateway a little further on towards the village and began running towards it.

  “James, wait,” Vince called catching up with him. “Let’s be careful here.”

  James looked wildly at him. Vince placed his hand on James’s arm, which had the surprising effect of calming him down. He nodded and deferred to the older man, letting him go in front.

  Vince signalled to the four strangers, some sort of universal military sign language. They all took up positions, scanning the road and surrounding hedges. It was then that James noticed the tell-tale bulges of weapons hidden under their jackets.

  God, Steph – you’d better be okay, he thought, his stomach clenching.

  Vince eased towards the gateway, quickly and quietly peeking around the edge of the hedge into the field. He turned and nodded to Max, who was at James’s shoulder. They exchanged concerned glances.

  Vince suddenly bent down, sweeping his flashlight along the entranceway to the farm gate. He beckoned to Max.

  “Look. Fresh tyre tracks and footprints. Three different sets of footprints,” he said indicating the different types of tread in the mud. He tracked his flashlight along the tyre tracks, which went through the closed gate and immediately turned left beside the hedge.

  Stephanie hadn’t run off the road. Her car had been purposely parked in the field behind the hedge and the gate closed again.

  James’s eyes widened. He couldn’t contain himself any longer. He pushed past Vince and vaulted the gate. The sheep sleeping under the hedge scattered, loudly announcing their annoyance at being disturbed.

  “Steph,” he called, his voice catching.

  “James,” Vince hissed.

  James ignored him and ran to her car. It was parked tightly up beside the hedge. He shone the flashlight through the driver’s window. It was empty. He pulled the door open. The internal light came on. The scent of Stephanie’s perfume hit him. He felt a tightening in his chest and had trouble swallowing. A half inflated airbag hung limply from the steering column.

  “You’re a bloody idiot,” Vince said, catching up with him. “This could have been a trap.”

  James didn’t seem to hear him. “She’s not here,” he said, distraught.

  Max caught up with them, along with one of the strangers. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s not here,” James repeated helplessly.

  Vince crouched down beside the open driver’s door and shone his flashlight around the interior of the car. He ran his fingers over the top of the steering wheel and held them up to the light.

  “Is that what I think it is?” James said, his voice coming out choked.

  “Blood,” Vince confirmed.