by E. R. FALLON
“The story gripped my emotions by the horns at the start and would not let go. Filled with mystery, magic, and the horror of a child gone missing, the words captivated me. I was unable to put it down until the final page.”
Sarah Davis, author of Inside Voices
“Chilling and mysterious.
A masterpiece of pace and suspense.”
Sue Barnard, author of Heathcliff: The Missing Years
The Tree Beasts
E.R. Fallon
Copyright © 2020 by E.R. Fallon
Artwork: Adobe Stock © Christos Georghiou, © kozyrevaelena and © tomertu
Design: soqoqo
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Crooked Cat/darkstroke except for brief quotations used for promotion or in reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are used fictitiously.
First Dark Edition, darkstroke. 2020
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To my family
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to Laurence and Stephanie Patterson at darkstroke, and special thanks to Sue Barnard and Sarah Davis for the endorsements and the late Da Chen for encouragement.
About the Author
Bestselling author E.R. Fallon studied criminology and was mentored by a leading advocate for the family members of homicide victims.
The Tree Beasts
Chapter One
For nine years Victoria Gold had considered herself lucky.
The day her son Paul went missing, cold air from the sea froze the tiny village on Blackthorn Island. The sun added little warmth to her skin as she sat on the bench in the public park that was bordered on three sides by a forest. Sparrows and finches flew from the bushes and chirped, dodging the wind, their feathers fluffy.
The playground was noisy with other mitten-clad children and their mothers or nannies, a few fathers pushing their kids on the swings. Snow remained in a few patches here and there from the last week. Winter had arrived, asserting its claim.
Her kids played freely. Paul was pushing his identical twin, Nat, on the swings. Nat had escaped being born with the epilepsy that Paul had. They were nine now, with Nat being older by a minute. Her daughter, Katherine, aged seven, laughed and waited for Nat to hop off and for Paul to push her. The boys loved Katie, and Victoria believed her daughter knew how much they did. Katie got on the swing, a flying blur between her brothers, laughing as they swung her higher and higher. What Victoria wouldn’t have done to suspend the hand of time and let the joy and shared love continue forever. But the sea wind stiffened, the sunlight weakened, and she got up to call them in.
Nat pointed to the seesaw in the center of the playground. “Can I go on that?”
“We’ll come back tomorrow,” she said.
All three of them frowned.
“But you always work late,” Nat said.
Victoria sighed. “All right, but just for a minute.”
Nat grinned and the three of them headed for the seesaw. Victoria ran to stop Paul.
“Why can’t I go on it?” he asked.
“It’s too dangerous,” she said.
Paul looked over at Nat. “How come Nat’s allowed?”
Nat, waiting for Paul, took off his red knitted hat with a bobble on top and kicked it in front of him on the ground.
“Nat!” Victoria scolded.
Without turning to her, he picked up the hat and tucked it in his pocket with the bobble sticking out. She pulled at Paul’s parka hood. “Keep it up so you stay warm.”
Katie tugged at Victoria’s sleeve. “I’m thirsty.”
“Just a second, Katie.” She turned back to Paul. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. You just can’t go on the seesaw.”
“What can I do then?” he asked.
She reached down and straightened his eyeglasses. “You can stand next to Nat. You can watch everything he does, but don’t go on anything.”
Paul walked away from her, his eyes fixed on the ground. Her heart cracked at the sight of him, with his thin shoulders slumped and his feet dragging clumsily behind him, her frail little Paul. He was becoming more aware of her protectiveness.
“Wait, Paul. Come here.” She reached out for him, held his shoulders and hurried back to the bench, with Katie following.
On their way to the park after Paul’s doctor appointment, Victoria had bought a bouquet of white roses at the florist’s to set in a vase on the dining table. There was one small rose among the group that was white like the others, but the tips of its petals were tipped in red. The shopkeeper had said it was a “beautiful flaw”, and Paul had pointed to the little black mark on Katie’s temple. “Like what’s on her face,” he’d said. Indeed the red mark on the rose was unusual, just as Katie’s mark – like a blot of ink that couldn’t be erased – was unusual but beautiful on her.
Unusual but beautiful. Strange incidents had happened in the past around Katie. Before Victoria had gone into labor with her in the summertime, grackles with bright-yellow eyes and glossy dark feathers had fallen from the sky and landed on their doorstep. Victoria had thought they were dead. But when her husband, Sam, had gone outside to check, they’d flown into the air and had perched on the branches of their walnut tree, watching over the house until mother and daughter had arrived safely home from the hospital. And three days after Katie came into the world, the skies rained hail for five minutes, but only on their rooftop, bringing a peculiar chilly break to a heatwave. Victoria didn’t like to think of the incidents often. She didn’t want to know what they might mean.
Victoria reached for the bouquet, which was wrapped carefully in paper, chose the peculiar rose, and handed it to Paul. “For you.”
“Why are you giving the cherry-vanilla rose to me?” he asked.
“Cherry-vanilla. I like that. Did you come up with that on your own?”
“Yeah. Katie might like it better.”
“But I’m giving it to you because it’s extraordinary, like you. Katie won’t mind. She’ll want you to have it. Ask her.”
Victoria glanced at Katie, who nodded. “It’s yours if you want it.”
Paul tucked the rose in his pocket, bending the stem, then dashed off to Nat.
“Mom, I’m thirsty,” Katie said.
Victoria took Katie’s hand and sat to dig through her overstuffed shoulder bag. The juice box was wedged in between paper-clipped sheets of her Advanced Literature students’ term papers, which she’d brought in the hope she might have time to mark them. But the foil covering the hole for the juice box straw had torn. The term papers were a sticky, purply mess.
“Stay here, sweetheart,” she said, and got up to go into the park restroom.
Her eyes met Nat’s. He was the most responsible.
“I have to go into the bathroom for a second. You’re in charge. Make sure everyone stays safe.”
She needed to grade the papers by that night. Now she’d have to tell her eager students their work was ruined by grape juice.
Nat gave up on the seesaw and Paul started to push him on the swings again. It comforted her to see them taking care of each other.
“Not too high,” Victoria shouted, sounding harsher than she’d meant.
Paul’s small face peered at her with worry. She should have stopped walking to tell him it was okay, she wasn’t mad at him, but the bathroom door was ten steps away – less – and she’d just grab a handfu
l of paper towels then be back to give him a hug.
Victoria took off her gloves, shoved them in her coat pocket and sprinted into the heated bathroom. The paper towel dispenser was empty. “I can’t believe this.” Her face got hot. She glanced at the mirror that ran the length of the rows of sinks and her cheeks were scarlet. The first two stalls she tried were out of paper too. She skidded on the tiled floor, mucky with the mud and softening snow people had tracked in, and steadied herself.
The third stall had a few sheets, so she grabbed them and went to the next stall for more. She blotted her students’ papers with the toilet tissue as best she could, but the tissue crumbled into bits and left little curls on the term papers. The trash bin was spilling over with used paper towels. There wasn’t enough time. She had to get back outside.
A teenage girl came in talking on a phone. “I really thought he was the one, you know?” She bumped into Victoria, knocking some of the papers out of her hand.
“Sorry,” the girl said and resumed her conversation. She stood in front of the mirror picking something out of her braces with her free hand then went in and locked a stall with a click, still chatting.
Victoria sighed as she gathered the papers then left. Outside, she tugged on her gloves and went to sit with Katie, who was swinging her feet on the bench. Nat gently propelled himself on the swings and looked around. She was about to get up to check on Paul, but saw him near the swings with his back to her, the hood of his blue coat still flipped up.
“There’s purple stuff on your jacket,” Katie said. “Can I have my juice?”
Victoria rubbed at the juice stain with her glove. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but I don’t have another.”
Katie frowned and turned away from her.
The term papers still needed grading, no matter how messy they might be. Victoria stuck her hand in the bag and searched for her red pen. She found it stuck inside an address book. She turned and glanced up. Nat had left the house in an unmistakable red coat and she spotted him right away, but she had lost sight of Paul.
Then he was there, about to sit on the seesaw. With the pen still in her hand, she ran to him. “Sweetheart, you can’t …” She pushed his blue hood down from behind and he turned around. Green eyes and red hair. Not Paul.
His eyes widened at Victoria. “Mom,” he called.
A young woman in a denim jacket ran up to them, pulled the boy away from Victoria and held him close to her legs. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked and hurried off with the boy.
“I’m sorry, I thought he was my son. I …” Victoria looked behind then in front of her.
She whirled and scanned her left then her right then back again. The pen fell to the snow-dusted asphalt.
Paul was gone.
Victoria tried to tell herself she was over-reacting. Paul had to be there.
Suddenly so many other boys looked like him, and for a second, again, she mistook one or two wearing blue coats for him. She felt her eyes darting to the base of the big yellow and red jungle gym, the circle of woodchips around the seesaw. What if he’d fallen? Or was having a seizure?
Victoria ran to Nat, helped him off the swings and knelt beside him. “Where’s Paul?” She tried not to clutch his hands and to keep her voice calm.
“He went with the other boy.” Nat squirmed out of her grasp.
“Nat, you were supposed to watch him. You let him go?” Paul knew it was not safe to go out of her sight. “Which way did they go?”
“That way.”
The woods were vast and thick with tall, leafy trees. If Paul had an attack in there, how would she find him?
“Which boy did he go with? Nat, which boy?” Her voice rose.
Katie sounded scared as she called, “Mom,” from the bench.
“You stay right there, sweetie,” Victoria said. “I need to find your brother.”
“There he is,” Nat said.
“Thank God.” Victoria whipped around. “Paul, I’m so glad—”
“That’s the boy Paul went with.” Nat was pointing to a handsome blond boy who wasn’t standing with the other kids.
Victoria hadn’t noticed the boy earlier but vaguely recognized his face from the village. He was not much older than her sons and wore a baseball cap. He stood at the other end of the park with a small, dark woman in an old brown overcoat.
“Have you seen my son Paul?” Victoria ran up to them with Nat right behind her. “He looks like his brother.” She patted Nat’s arm. “They’re twins, except Paul’s hair is cut a little shorter, and he’s wearing a blue coat.”
“He’s lost?” The woman had a soft foreign accent.
“See, my other son, Nat,” Victoria said, glancing at him, now hiding behind her, “said this boy with your … your son?” The woman seemed a little old to have been the boy’s mother.
Victoria was sure it was all a misunderstanding and that Paul would walk up to her any minute now, or he’d gotten lost in the forest while playing with this boy, who would come with her to get him. They would just find him and bring him back.
“I’m Julian’s nanny,” the woman said quietly.
Victoria’s patience waned. “My name’s Victoria, and yours is …?”
“Agostina.”
“My son told me his brother Paul went into the woods with Julian, but he hasn’t come back yet. I’m worried because Paul has epilepsy.”
“I don’t think Julian was playing with your son.”
Victoria raised her voice. “You don’t understand. My son could be hurt.”
Agostina knelt down and talked gently to Julian, who acted like he was thinking then shook his head. She rose and faced Victoria. “He doesn’t know where your son is. I can call the police for you if you want.”
Victoria noticed Julian had a scratch on his face and a fleck of dried blood on his hand. “Is that scratch new?”
Agostina glanced at Julian but didn’t encourage him to answer Victoria’s question.
“Did you and Paul have a fight?” Victoria asked him.
Julian kept staring at the ground, stuck his lower lip out and shook his head at Agostina. Moving past her, Victoria grabbed his arm and pushed his baseball cap up.
“Where did you take my son? Tell me,” she said. He started to cry softly. The other children and adults in the playground were staring at her, but she needed an answer.
“The woods,” he finally choked out.
“Stop that now. You’re hurting him.” Agostina put herself between Victoria and the trembling boy. She took a phone out of her handbag and pressed the number keys. “I’m calling the police for you.” Agostina sheltered Julian under her arms. She spoke into her phone. “A child’s missing from the park. I’m here with his mother.” Victoria’s eyes met Agostina’s. “They said to stay right where we are.”
“No. It doesn’t make any sense to wait. The forest is huge,” Victoria said.
“We’ll stay until the police get here. They should be here very soon.” There was a small blemish on her temple similar to Katie’s mark.
Two skinny, puffy-coat-clad arms wrapped around Victoria’s waist, and Nat and Katie’s small warm hands felt for hers. She held one of their hands in each of hers. They squeezed her back.
Nat pulled on Victoria’s jacket. “Let’s go get Paul.”
Julian smiled at Katie and reached his hand out for hers. Nat frowned at him and Julian backed off.
A tall, flushed man in a green sweatshirt and running pants stopped his jog and asked if everything was all right. Victoria briefly explained to him what was going on and he offered to help search for Paul.
The man took out a phone and called the police.
“Might get them to show up faster,” he said.
“But we haven’t even searched,” Victoria cried. “I don’t understand why she won’t get him to help me.” She shot a look at Agostina.
The man in the jogging suit patted her hand. “I’ll help you.”
“He’s wearing a b
lue coat.”
The snow crunched under his sneakers as he entered the woods. The sounds of police sirens grew closer. Victoria held her breath, as if suffocating under swamp water, awaiting their arrival.
She scanned the front of the woods. “Paul!” She stumbled toward the forest. Her head throbbed as her feet struck the frozen ground.
“Mum,” Nat called.
“Wait with your sister,” Victoria shouted over her shoulder. She slapped her hair out of her face. As she turned to Nat, her gaze landed on the red pen she’d dropped in the melting snow and the bouquet of roses left on the bench.
***
The jogger in the green sweatshirt emerged from the woods long after Victoria had. She was hopeful that Paul was right behind him, but he made eye contact with her and shook his head. The police had arrived at the park and gently pushed the other children and parents away from the scene. Some of them were asked to stay behind for interviews.
A tall, blue-uniformed policeman straightened his cap and introduced himself to Victoria as Officer Adams. He was older than the other officers. Nat served as a stand-in when he asked if she had a recent photo of Paul. She told Officer Adams that Paul had epilepsy then eyed Agostina while he asked Julian where he had seen Paul last. She would have liked for him to question Julian alone.
“Tell me what you two little guys were doing in the woods in the first place,” Officer Adams said to Julian.
“I didn’t go all the way into the woods. He took off without me. He ran ahead.”
Paul could never even keep up with Nat. How was Victoria supposed to believe he’d outpaced a boy who was bigger than Nat?
“Why did you want to go in there anyway?” Adams asked.
“To see the weird trees,” Julian said.
Officer Adams patted him on the head like he was just being silly. Victoria suddenly recognised Julian, the son of one of the island’s wealthiest families, the Bloomfields. She didn’t like the deference she suspected the police were showing him.