Hands shaking, I shone my phone into the hole. I could just make out the concrete floor of the room below, a couple of metres down.
Jam leaned closer to the hole, peering down into the darkness, then straightened up again.
‘I can’t hear or see anything,’ he said quietly.
‘D’you think this is an old smuggler’s cave, like the one Mom was trying to take us to the other day?’ Shelby whispered.
‘Not with all that concrete,’ Jam said softly. ‘It’s not a natural cave . . . it’s more likely part of an old mine or an air raid shelter.’
I checked the time. ‘Holtwood will be calling soon,’ I whispered. ‘This is a chance to find Madison before she realises we don’t have anything apart from the money to give her.’
‘But we don’t know for sure if Madison’s down there,’ Shelby protested.
Jam frowned. ‘She’s right, Lauren. Maybe we should—’
‘We have to take a look,’ I insisted. ‘If Mo’s down here we can go back and get help.’
‘No way,’ Shelby said. ‘We should just tell Mom and Rick like we said. They’ll know what to do.’
‘Will they?’ I met Shelby’s gaze. ‘Even if they do there’s no time. We have to look down there before Holtwood rings me again.’
‘Well, I’m not going.’ Shelby backed away. ‘I’m gonna call Mom, tell her what’s going on.’
‘Fine,’ I whispered. I sat down at the edge of the hole and eased my legs through.
‘Wait, Lauren.’ Jam held out the backpack containing the money. ‘Here, Shelbs, you can look after that.’
I found the rope ladder with my feet, letting it take my weight. Jam was just giving Shelby something to do so she didn’t feel bad about being scared. Personally I didn’t much care about her feelings. Let’s face it . . . when had she ever cared about mine?
I climbed down the rope ladder. Keeping it steady was tricky, but it got easier as I neared the bottom of the hole. I reached the ground and stepped softly onto the concrete floor. Using my phone as a light, I could see I was standing in an empty room about the same size as the beach hut above. A dug-out tunnel led off on one side.
Shrieks from small children sounded outside, as the carousel music floated towards us.
‘If you go down to the woods today . . .’
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, as Jam slid silently down the rope ladder after me. ‘I thought you said this was a bad idea?’ I hissed.
‘It is.’ Jam landed beside me with a soft thud. ‘But I can’t let you do it on your own.’
‘I’m fine,’ I muttered.
But Jam wasn’t listening. ‘This must have been the room Holtwood called you from,’ he whispered.
I looked round. There were definitely signs that people had been here: burger wrappers and drink cans were scattered across the floor and a length of rope was loosely coiled in one corner. I tiptoed across the room to the tunnel opposite. It was low-ceilinged with rough, concrete walls and led away from us into pitch black. I stood, listening, at the entrance. Apart from the noises that filtered through from outside, the whole place was eerily silent.
‘Let’s try through here,’ I whispered.
We walked along a few metres. As we rounded a corner, a dim glow appeared in the distance, casting shadows across the concrete.
There. That had to be Holtwood and Madison. With trembling fingers, I pointed towards the light. Jam nodded to show he’d seen it too.
Silently we crept on.
Another few metres, and my phone vibrated in my pocket.
No. It was Sonia Holtwood calling. Had twenty minutes passed already?
Jam clutched my arm, horrified. I hesitated a second.
‘I have to bluff her,’ I whispered. ‘Buy some time.’
‘No—’ Jam started.
But I’d already brought the phone to my mouth. I shrank back against the cold, concrete wall, trying hard to minimise the sound of my voice as I spoke. The dim light we were following was still a long way in the distance, but I couldn’t tell how well sound would travel along the tunnel.
‘Hello?’ I whispered.
‘Did you find the things Sam hid?’ the filtered voice snarled.
‘Yes,’ I lied.
‘What was there?’
I thought of my grandmother – Sam’s mum. I’d always got on well with her and my Gramps. They were both living in a nursing home now in the States. Life there seemed a million miles away.
‘A diamond necklace and matching earrings,’ I lied. ‘For me and Shelby. They . . . they belonged to Sam’s mother. She wants us to have them. And they’re worth, like, over a million dollars.’
Jam shook my arm, his hand open in a gesture of dismay.
Why are you telling her that? he mouthed.
I turned away.
‘Right.’ A pause on the other end of the line. ‘You’ve got two hours to get back here. I’ll text the place for the next exchange.’
She rang off.
‘What the hell, Lauren?’ Jam hissed.
I pointed in the direction of the glimmering light. ‘We just needed a bit of time,’ I whispered. ‘We’ve got two more hours.’
‘Then let’s go back and get help,’ Jam whispered.
‘But Holtwood and Madison are right here.’ I started walking, but Jam grabbed my arm and pulled me back.
‘Wait,’ he hissed into my ear. ‘I came down here with you because Holtwood hadn’t called yet and there was a bit of time to see if Madison was down here, without doing anything stupid – but now you’ve made things worse by inventing jewellery that doesn’t even exist and—’
‘I had to.’
‘If we go any further Holtwood will see us,’ Jam said. ‘That guy, Frank, is probably here too, and—’
‘It’s a chance to rescue Mo.’
‘Rescue her?’ Jam hissed. ‘From people with guns? Anyway, what are you going to say when Holtwood realises you don’t have any diamonds?’
‘Go back then.’ I crept off, my heart pounding. Couldn’t Jam see we had to find Madison? This might be her last chance.
I could feel Jam still behind me, but I didn’t look round. We rounded another curve in the tunnel. Now the low mumble of voices drifted towards us. I squinted into the gloom as the source of both the light and the voices became clear. A dim glow was shining out through a door, halfway along the tunnel ahead.
Trembling, I tiptoed closer.
Closer.
Sweat beaded on my forehead. The back of my neck prickled as we reached the door.
Low voices drifted towards us again. The door was open a fraction. A man and a woman were talking inside, but so quietly I couldn’t make out what they were saying or even if they were, as I suspected, Frank and Sonia.
Footsteps sounded inside the room. Jam and I exchanged a terrified look. They were coming towards the door.
We sprang back, against the wall behind the door. It opened, slamming back against us. Jam caught the handle, holding it steady so it didn’t fly shut again.
More footsteps.
‘Come on.’ That was definitely Frank.
I heard a sniff and a stumble. I peered round the edge of the door. Frank had Madison by the arm. He hauled her along the tunnel away from us . . . in the opposite direction from the room that led up to the beach hut.
Madison was bound at the wrists with rope. Strips of cloth had been wound round her eyes and her mouth.
Anger like I’d never known filled me. How could anyone do that to a little girl? It was inhuman.
Jam yanked me back, behind the cover of the door, as a woman appeared. I froze, my anger transforming into terror. Was that Sonia Holtwood? I could only see her from behind and she was wearing a long jacket that concealed her body shape, but it had to be her.
Out of nowhere my legs started shaking. Panic gripped me. I couldn’t move. Everything that had happened to me nearly two years ago flooded back. Being left for dead in the freezing wood
. . . nearly drowning on that boat . . .
‘We can’t help Madison like this.’ Jam was shaking my arm, hissing in my ear. ‘We should go back.’
‘No.’ I couldn’t leave my baby sister. I couldn’t.
I darted out from Jam’s hold, creeping after Holtwood along the tunnel. She disappeared into the shadows ahead.
Jam caught up with me. He grabbed my arm again. ‘Come on,’ he whispered.
I wrenched my arm away and with that sudden movement, my mobile clattered to the floor.
‘What was that?’ Frank’s voice echoed out of the shadows along the tunnel ahead.
A second later footsteps sounded, heading towards us.
Oh no. I froze. Jam snatched up my phone, shoved it into my hands. We turned and tore back along the tunnel towards the room below the beach hut.
I glanced over my shoulder. Frank was chasing after us.
‘Hey!’ His shout echoed off the concrete.
Jam sped up. I ran faster too, my breath now coming in gasps. On we ran. Through the tunnel. Into the room where the rope ladder still dangled in the corner.
Shouts echoed behind us.
‘Stop!’ Frank yelled.
Jam grabbed the rope ladder, holding it steady. ‘Climb!’ he ordered.
There was no time to argue with him, to make him go first. I scrambled up, up. I reached the hole in the beach hut above. I hauled myself through. Jam was climbing up behind me. Frank skidded to a halt at his feet. Grabbed Jam’s leg.
‘Come on,’ I urged.
Jam kicked Frank away. Climbed up another step.
Come on. Come on.
Jam was almost at the top of the rope ladder. I reached out my hand to help him out. But Frank grabbed his leg and yanked him down to the floor.
No.
I froze, unable to reach Jam. He was clinging to the bottom of the ladder. Frank was trying to pull him off.
And then the woman came running over. She stood beside them, her gaze fixed on Jam’s face.
She wasn’t Sonia Holtwood. She was much younger with a narrower, longer face.
The good news was that she hadn’t seen me.
The bad news was that she had Frank’s gun and was pointing it at Jam.
15
Help
Jam looked up at me. Go, he mouthed silently.
‘Get him off the ladder!’ the woman who was not Sonia Holtwood screamed. ‘Get after the girl.’
I backed away from the hole, then turned and raced out of the beach hut. Shelby came running up, backpack flapping on her back. ‘I didn’t call Mom yet. What happ—’
‘Run!’ I gasped at her.
She stood, gawping at me. ‘Where’s Jam?’ She frowned. ‘Where’s Madison?’
I shoved her in the shoulder. ‘Come on!’ I urged again. ‘Go!’
I tore past the row of beach huts, not bothering to check if she was following me. The noise and bustle of the promenade filled the air. I raced to the square, past the carousel, still playing ‘The Teddy Bear’s Picnic’, and on up the street, away from the sea.
Shelby caught up with me and we ran on. After a few minutes, we reached the holiday home. We stopped just outside the front garden, both of us gasping . . . trying to get our breath back.
I looked back down the road. There was no sign of anyone following us.
What did that mean? Had we lost them? Or had the kidnappers given up the chase?
‘What the hell happened?’ Shelby panted. ‘Where’s Jam?’
I stood shaking in the sunlight as the full reality of the situation sank in.
They had Jam . . . Frank and this woman. I had no idea who she was. I had no idea about anything. All I knew was that in trying to save Madison I’d only managed to lose Jam as well.
I glanced over at the holiday home. Annie was inside, walking past the living-room window. She was speaking to someone – Rick presumably – twisting her hands together.
What on earth was I going to say to her? In that instant it hit me how stupid and selfish I had been earlier. I hadn’t thought through what Jam and I would do down in the tunnel, even though I knew we were up against two ruthless adults with a gun. I’d been so obsessed with finding Madison – and so convinced I was dealing with Sonia Holtwood – that I thought I’d be able to handle whatever situation I came up against.
Instead of which I’d only made mistakes. I’d lied to the female kidnapper, promising her diamond jewellery I didn’t have on top of the two million pounds cash. And I’d lost Jam. A terrible raw pain swelled inside me. Whether or not he was helping because he wanted to or because he felt he should, Jam had been with me every step of the way. He had warned me we didn’t have a plan for rescuing Madison and now he was the one who was paying the price for it.
I fingered the wooden oval round my neck. Please be OK, Jam. Please.
Beside me, Shelby swore. ‘Will you talk to me, Lauren?’ she said. ‘Where’s Jam? Did you find Madison? What happened?’
I gritted my teeth. The last thing I wanted to do was explain what had gone on under that beach hut.
‘We saw Madison . . .’ I hesitated, hating having to say the words out loud. ‘But they stopped us. They . . . they caught Jam.’
Shelby blinked, shocked. ‘Sonia Holtwood has Jam now?’ she said. ‘As well as Madison?’
‘She’s not Sonia Holtwood,’ I said savagely, realising as I spoke that this meant I knew less than ever about who we were dealing with – and what they were capable of. ‘The man is Frank – Holtwood used him two years ago. But the woman is someone else altogether. Not Sonia Holtwood.’
‘What do you mean?’ Shelby’s face expressed confusion.
For goodness’ sake. All my frustration and anxiety seemed to roll into a ball at the sight of her blank incomprehension. I took a deep breath then I hurled everything I felt into Shelby’s face.
‘I wish it was y—’ I stopped and dug my fingers into my palms to stop myself saying it . . .
‘What?’ Shelby’s frown deepened. ‘Wish what?’
‘Nothing.’ I couldn’t say it. I didn’t mean it. It was too cruel.
Shelby drew in her breath. ‘You were going to say you wished it was me. That you wished the kidnappers had taken me instead of Madison and Jam?’
‘No, of course not.’ But I couldn’t meet Shelby’s gaze.
She took a step away from me. I looked up. Hurt flashed through her eyes and for a moment, I thought she was going to burst into tears or hit me or scream. But she didn’t do any of those things. She just stared at me for a few seconds as her expression hardened, like a mask.
Guilt spread through me like a poison.
‘I’m sorry, Shelb—’
‘Don’t.’ Shelby held up her hand, cutting me off. Her voice was hard and cold. ‘So what do we do now?’
I bit my lip. ‘Well, we have less than two hours before the next exchange. The kidnappers think we’re bringing them a diamond necklace and earrings that don’t exist so unless we rob a jewellery store in the next ninety minutes, we’re basically screwed.’
Shelby stared at me. She said nothing.
I swallowed, shuffling from foot to foot. I knew she was thinking about how she had wanted to involve the police in the first place. Jeez, it hit me like a thunderbolt. She’d been totally right. I mean, OK, so involving the cops put Madison at risk.
But Madison was at terrible risk already.
Shelby glanced over towards the holiday home. I followed her gaze to the brightly painted blue gate and the front garden, overgrown with flowers. Annie was still visible through the window, her back to the pavement where we were standing.
I took a deep breath. ‘I think we should tell Annie and Rick everything,’ I said. ‘I think we should tell them it’s time to call the police and tell them everything.’ I wanted to add: like you said we should. But the words somehow stuck in my throat.
Shelby gave a curt nod. ‘Right.’
And together we walked up the road to
the house.
‘But what are we going to do if the police mess up?’ Annie wailed for the fifth time. ‘I can just imagine them going in heavy and . . . and my baby getting hurt . . .’ She dissolved into tears again.
We were in the kitchen of the holiday home. Annie was pacing in front of the door to the garden. Shelby was sitting at the table. Like me, she was watching Annie but saying nothing.
I don’t think she knew what to say to calm Annie down.
I certainly didn’t.
I’d imagined – more a hope than a reasoned thought – that once we’d told Annie everything she would pull herself together and, at the very least, agree that we need to phone the police and hand over responsibility for rescuing Madison to the authorities.
But Annie, once again, had fallen into a panicky mess of terror and indecision.
I’d briefly wondered if she would question me more closely about my search for valuables in the London flat. But she’d just looked amazed that Jam and I had thought we’d find anything there. She didn’t seem at all concerned that I might have stumbled across Sam’s letters. I was more sure than ever that she didn’t know about them.
This made it easier not to deal with the discovery myself. Shelby’s letter was in Jam’s pocket, of course, but I’d shoved mine away in my bedroom. I still felt numb about Sam not being my biological dad, like the whole thing wasn’t real.
Madison and Jam being taken, on the other hand, was urgent and overwhelming.
I glanced over at Rick. He was gazing thoughtfully at Annie. He exuded calm. The only indication that he was in any way stressed was the way his little finger tapped against the counter.
Surely he would know what to do about the kidnappers?
‘Rick?’ I said. ‘What do you think?’
He glanced from Annie to me. ‘It’s going to be all right,’ he said firmly.
‘You don’t know that, Rick, honey.’ Annie wrung her hands together.
‘Mom, please.’ Shelby sounded close to tears.
‘Yes, Annie,’ Rick repeated slowly. ‘I do know. We’re going to make this work.’
The three of us stared at him.
‘What do you think we should do?’ I asked.
Sister, Missing Page 9