by M. A. Hunter
‘Put it on,’ her mum said, handing it over. ‘One day won’t make a difference.’
Emma wanted to outright refuse, but there was no point. Her mum had made up her mind, and it would only make things worse later if they had a full-on argument about Anna’s cagoule, which ultimately Emma would end up having to wear anyway.
It still smelled like Anna, Emma noticed, as the material passed her nose, and for a split second it was like Anna was there with them in the room. Sliding her jumper sleeves into the coat, and fastening the zip, it almost felt like Anna was hugging her, and suddenly Emma had no qualms about wearing the cagoule on today of all days.
‘Ready?’ her mum checked, as she opened the door, maybe expecting further dispute.
Emma nodded and the two of them stepped outside, which was the moment Bronwyn snatched up Emma’s hand, gripping it tightly and marching down the road towards the veterinary practice that had sprung up six months ago and past the playground where children squealed and cheered as they climbed the apparatus and glided through the air on the swings. Emma tried to pull her hand free, having to take two steps to every one of her mum’s, but Bronwyn’s grip remained firm and fixed.
‘Mum, you don’t need to hold my hand,’ Emma pleaded, certain there would probably be at least one child in the park who knew her.
She didn’t want to have to put up with the embarrassing chatter on Monday morning when it was announced to the playground that Emma’s mum didn’t trust her to walk unaided to the bus stop. She was nine now and understood the dangers of main roads, and how she had to stop and wait and look before crossing the road. She was a sensible young lady who knew what the rules were, and why they had to be followed.
Still, Bronwyn’s grip remained resolute. They arrived at the bus stop just after the blue Sureline bus to Dorchester had departed.
‘Damn!’ Bronwyn cursed. ‘You see what’s happened now? We’ve missed it because of that silly fuss you made over your jacket.’
Emma wasn’t disappointed that they’d missed the bus, but resisted the urge to point out that it was probably a sign that they shouldn’t be making today’s journey. She hoped her mum would realise this all on her own.
Bronwyn studied the timetable through the bashed plastic covering. ‘The next bus due will take us into Weymouth, which I was hoping to avoid because of all the weekend traffic. From there I suppose we can catch a bus to Dorchester, and then a third bus on to Swanage. That of course will make us late, but my mobile doesn’t have any credit, so I can’t let your dad know we’ll be late. I could try and buy some in Weymouth, if the next bus isn’t late, and message him, but I won’t have time if the bus is late. Of course, he’s sure to blame all of this on me, like I haven’t got enough on my plate already.’
She shushed as two new travellers arrived at the bus stop, knowing better than to air her dirty laundry in public. Emma’s cheeks reddened the moment she recognised the two girls from her class. They hadn’t been accompanied by their mother, and from the way they were dressed, Emma sensed they were probably going into Weymouth to peruse the shops, or go bowling. In that moment she wished the ground would open and swallow her whole. She tried to pull her hand free again, but that only seemed to tighten her mum’s grip. She saw the two girls whisper and snicker, occasionally glancing over, and for the first time she regretted that they hadn’t managed to catch the blue bus to Dorchester.
The bus to Weymouth eventually turned up, and Bronwyn didn’t release Emma’s hand as they clambered on and paid the man at the window. Bronwyn pushed Emma into one of the seats about midway along the bus, and Emma had to look on with envy as Cindy and Terri with an ‘i’ hurried past, giggling at her as they nonchalantly made their way to the back of the bus as if they owned it. There was no way Emma would live down the ignominy come Monday morning.
Cindy and Terri with an ‘i’ departed the bus as it arrived on St Mary Street. ‘See you on Monday, Emma,’ Cindy cooed as they passed – the modern equivalent of striking her around the face with a glove.
‘Friends of yours?’ Bronwyn asked, observing the two of them in their short denim skirts and thin anoraks.
‘Not exactly,’ Emma replied, knowing no matter how much she tried to distance herself, her mum would still tar her with the same judgemental brush.
‘You know it’s beyond me how blasé some parents can be about the whereabouts of their children. They’re what, nine, ten at most? How quickly people forget the dangerous world we live in.’
They exited the bus near the Community Hospital, but didn’t have to wait long for the bus to Dorchester. By the time it reached its stop in much sunnier Swanage, more than an hour had passed since they’d debated the cagoule situation by the front door. Emma felt exhausted, even though they’d largely been sitting down for the whole commute.
‘There she is,’ Emma’s dad cheered as they disembarked, holding his arms out wide, and scooping Emma up as she ran to greet him.
Despite her earlier reservations, she was now pleased that her mum had insisted they make the trip here.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he whispered into her ear.
‘I’m sorry we were late,’ she whispered back. ‘It wasn’t Mum’s fault, so don’t blame her.’
‘Understood,’ he said conspiratorially, kissing the top of her head.
He straightened and took in his wife’s appearance. ‘How are you, Winnie?’
She offered no smile. ‘Fine. And you?’
‘Mustn’t grumble, you know. You’re looking well.’
Any hopes Emma had held that the two of them would forget the last months of disruption and share a loving embrace were quickly dampened.
Bronwyn brushed and flattened her overcoat. ‘I’ll be back here to collect her at 5 p.m. sharp. I appreciate we’re half an hour late arriving here, but if you could be prompt, it will mean we can catch the necessary connections to get home swiftly.’
‘Sure. I understand. These things can’t be helped.’ He winked at Emma, before looking back to his estranged wife. ‘And you? Do you have plans for the day?’
She adjusted the lining of the headscarf. ‘I have an appointment with the manager of the bank in town, and a few other errands to take care of. Nothing that need concern you.’
‘Could I give you a call later? There’s something we need to discuss, but away from prying ears.’
They both looked at Emma as if to make a point, even though she’d already determined that hers were the ears to which they were referring.
‘Of course,’ Bronwyn replied, not dropping her guard. ‘Shall we say after eight?’
‘It’s a date,’ he smiled, though she made no attempt to reflect his warmth.
‘I will see you both back here at five. Emma, be a good girl for your father.’
With that, she straightened her overcoat again, turned and made her way towards the centre of town. Emma’s dad remained where he was, watching her leave, and allowing her the distance she clearly craved.
‘And what shall we do today?’ he asked, stooping to meet Emma’s eye line. ‘I’d say we could go crabbing, but you can do that sort of thing at home. There is a cinema in town, but I’m not sure what they’re showing. My place isn’t very big, so although I’ll show you what it looks like, it’s not very practical for us to spend the day in.’ He straightened again, and took in the shops ahead. ‘I tell you what, why don’t we have a burger and some fries for lunch? And if you’re lucky, maybe I’ll even let you have a milkshake; just don’t tell your mother I took you to Wimpy, or she’ll have my guts for garters!’
She squeezed his arm and nodded excitedly. At least he seemed pleased to see her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Now
Weymouth, Dorset
When DI Oakley appeared on my doorstep and first informed me that Anna had taken Daisy, she told me I had a small window to find my sister and bring her in. From what Rachel and I witnessed in the televised press conference moments earlier, I sense
that window is rapidly closing. For them to publicly announce that Anna is armed and dangerous serves two purposes: firstly, it will make the public think twice about helping her, and secondly, it will help explain should Anna not survive this endeavour. If the ring is trying to tie up loose ends, then today’s incident just put them a giant step closer to achieving that end.
I don’t know why Anna decided that abducting a fourteen-year-old child was a good idea, and I can’t yet see what her endgame is. Instinct tells me that Daisy was targeted for a reason, even if I can’t see it. Jack said her great-uncle’s name came up in the investigation, which sets off a major alarm bell in my head. The fact that he was cleared of any wrongdoing would ease my alarm, but for the fact that Jack also said it was someone else in his team who made the decision to clear Beauchamp. Maybe I’m just being cynical, but I’d feel less sceptical if it had been Jack himself who had cleared him. Is it really that difficult to believe that the ring could have infiltrated our investigation at ground level? How else did they manage to hack our phones and computers?
Rachel drives us back to the town centre, and it pains me leaving my mum’s corpse there alone, but I don’t have a choice. I can only hope she’ll forgive me. I feel like she would want me to find Anna before the knot tightens, but how do I find someone who doesn’t want to be found? It’s not like I haven’t been searching for the last eight years without success. Searching for my missing sister has been my reason for living for so long, but what’s going to make this time different? I suppose at least I know for certain she is alive. It’s all the additional impetus I need.
‘Can you park up here?’ I ask Rachel, as we near the former church hall.
It’s not yet midday, but there’s already a small queue at the door to the homeless kitchen and shelter. There’s no sign of Barbara or Judith, but they’re not who I’m looking for. I haven’t seen Freddie Mitchell for weeks, ever since I demanded he confront a part of his life he’d buried deep. He’d looked at me with such hurt in his eyes, but I needed him to go back to that place to help us learn more about the ring. If anyone can shed light on where one of their victims might run to in a panic, then surely it’s Freddie. He understands the pain I’ve been through in my desperate hunt, and although he claims never to have met Anna, he has probably experienced some of the same atrocities as her. I’m working on the hypothesis that the abduction of Daisy Beauchamp was anything but random, and that Anna is searching for a way to get revenge on her abusers. It’s the only theory that makes sense in my head. Why else kill Tomlinson? What I’m hoping is for Freddie to tell me some of the places they might have taken her on the off chance she would return to them to continue her plan.
Rachel kills the engine. ‘He wasn’t here last night; what makes you think today will be different?’
I shrug as I pull on the door handle. ‘It’s where I first interviewed him. He feels safe here, and it allows him to make a difference. I have to try.’
Rachel climbs out, but I stop her with a shake of my head. ‘I need to do this, but Freddie isn’t great with an audience. I know the two of you have met, but if I’m going to get him to open up, it might be best if I’m alone.’
Rachel opens her mouth to tell me she doesn’t want to leave me alone in my grief, but she thinks better of it. ‘I’ll go back to your place and check on the latest news. Keep in touch with me, please? And I’ll let you know if there’s any progress from my end.’
My irises burn, but I strain a smile. I don’t know what I’d do without her. ‘Thank you.’
She pulls away, and I head past the small queue and around to the back as Jack and I did last night. Barbara is surprised to see me as she opens the door.
‘Back so soon? I have two volunteers already, but you’re welcome to stay if you—’
‘I need to find Freddie,’ I interrupt, rubbing my hands together against the cold wind blowing down the narrow enclosure.
‘He isn’t here, I’m sorry,’ she offers.
‘Where would he go? Please, Barbara, I need to find him urgently.’
‘I-I don’t know, my sweet, I’m sorry. It’s been weeks since he made an appearance here, and he doesn’t carry a phone, as you know.’
I look back along the narrow pathway. ‘Will you call me if you do see him? I can’t stress how important this is, Barbara.’
She nods apologetically. ‘Of course I will. Good luck!’
I head back towards the queue, but stop as I near the front. ‘Good morning. How are you all doing?’
There are nods of acknowledgement, as the small group of men huddle close to the door.
‘I’m trying to find Freddie,’ I say. ‘Have any of you seen him about recently?’
Freddie is a well-known figure in the homeless community in Weymouth, such is his energy and hard work. A couple of them exchange glances, but nobody comes forward.
‘It’s really important I find him,’ I say. ‘Please, have any of you seen him today?’
‘Try the top end of town,’ a voice says from behind the group.
I look through the gathered group and spot a woman wrapped in a tight rose-coloured sleeping bag. Her once blonde hair is straggled and poking out from beneath the hood of the sleeping bag.
‘Have you seen him there?’ I ask, hope surging into my chest.
She shrugs, bearing the weight of the glares of the rest of the group. ‘If I was looking for him, I’d start there.’
I reach into my pocket. I don’t have much by way of cash, but pull out the only note I have and hand it to her. ‘Thank you. Thank you, so much.’
Hurrying away from the queue, I can’t ignore the glares that the others gave the woman. Has Freddie specifically told people not to speak to me? Did I hurt him so much that he’s built a wall of silence to keep me away?
With this thought pricking at my conscience, I hurry through the town, head down, not wanting to think about the kid with the knife who confronted me only hours earlier. Surely he wouldn’t be stupid enough to strike twice? Crossing the road, I find the sheltered gap between the buildings where I first found Freddie, but as far as I can see, there’s nobody in there now. I suppose it’s possible the woman in the sleeping bag was just telling me what I wanted to hear, but I’m certain in my head that Freddie would never turn his back on this community.
I continue up the road and over the water, looking left and right as I go. The shops here are few and far between, but there are a couple of bars for those mooring in the marina. Heading further forwards, I feel like I’m wasting my time, but unless I can find him…
I stop still as I see a hooded figure ahead. He’s leaning over a person in a doorway, and seems to be handing something over. I can’t see the face of the hooded figure, but the height and build are right. I duck out of the way, sheltering behind a column of one of the bars. The hooded figure straightens and moves away from the doorway. I wait until he has walked past me, before I approach.
‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to walk away totally.’
The figure freezes and his head bows slightly.
‘How have you been?’
I move around him and force my gaze beneath the hood, recognising his blue eyes, even if they’re almost hidden by greying hair. I can see now he’s carrying a lined box on his back, and in his hand is a stack of paper cups.
‘Soup,’ he explains, as he catches me looking at the contraption. ‘I distribute to those who can’t make it to the canteen.’
I’m not surprised that Freddie has taken on a delivery service in order to keep away from the shelter to avoid me, but I don’t have to guess who’s been supplying the soup. It’s so great to see him, even if he doesn’t look as well as I had hoped.
I take a deep breath. ‘Freddie, I owe you—’
‘I’m sorry, Emma,’ he interrupts, staring down at the ground. ‘I should have said it a long time ago. You were nothing but kind to me, and I… I betrayed that trust. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I want you to at le
ast know how sorry I am.’
‘It’s me who owes you the apology, Freddie. I never should have pushed you to dig up the past for my own gains.’
His head snaps up and meets my gaze. ‘You don’t owe me anything, Emma. I knew you were desperately searching for your sister, and I should have told you there was far more to Turgood’s abuse than what I did.’ He looks out to the marina. ‘I can’t explain it, but in my head it was like, if I don’t acknowledge it, then it’s like it didn’t happen. I realise how immature that sounds, but I spent a long time repressing those memories with booze and drugs.’
I step forward and embrace him. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper.
I feel his head press into the crook between my neck and shoulder. ‘I’m sorry too.’
The smell of tomato and basil wafts around us, and my stomach grumbles, but it only reminds me that time is slipping away through the egg timer.
I pull us apart. ‘Anna is alive,’ I tell him. ‘It’s a long story, but I’ve found her.’
His mouth drops as he studies my face for any hint of a smile. ‘She’s… Oh gosh, Emma, you have no idea how happy that makes me.’
‘She’s in trouble, Freddie. I need to know where she might go if she was panicking. I’m certain she’d go somewhere familiar to her, but I don’t know where.’
He stares blankly back at me. ‘I-I don’t know, Emma.’
‘I need you to access those memories again, Freddie,’ I say assertively. ‘And I’m sorry to ask, but I need to understand what she’s been through, where she’s been, and how she’s survived. You’ve been close to the people who had her. Can you think of anywhere that she’d be familiar with? The police believe she’s somewhere in Dorset, Wiltshire, or Hampshire, but I don’t know where she’d go, and it’s too large an area for me to search alone.’