Chosen Child

by Linda Huber

  Ella’s involving the police. Owen’s going to look at the shed. Call me.

  Rick slumped on the bed, head hanging. That was it, then. Gareth would be found – he might even have been found already. That text was sent over an hour ago. The police would be looking for him and Soraya… He had to get away from here, find somewhere to think. Penzance. He would go back to Penzance, they wouldn’t think to look for him there. He lurched across the room and grabbed his case.

  ‘Get your stuff, Soraya. We’ll go in the train, it’s quicker.’

  ‘It’s not quicker. I want to go in the car. You said - ’

  ‘And now I’m saying we’re going in the goddamn train and I don’t want to hear another word from you! Understand?’

  She flinched, and he rummaged through his belongings. He needed some kind of disguise, something that would make it harder for people to identify him. Sunglasses, yes, and his cap. That would do. And something to hide as much of Soraya’s face as possible. Her sunhat presented itself, and he grabbed the little girl’s hairbrush.

  ‘We’ll make you a nice hairdo for Mummy. Come here.’

  She retreated towards the table, her lips trembling.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Soraya, you can’t go out like that!’ Two strides and he was beside her, holding her bony shoulder with one hand and manipulating the hairbrush with the other. She wriggled and sobbed as he pulled the brush through her damp hair and twisted it into one of the elastics round the handle, but she looked different with her hair under the hat. He nodded, satisfied. A quick goodbye here and off to the station, where they could merge into a crowd and be safe. And on the way he would chuck his phone into the sea.

  Luck was with him downstairs. The owner’s teenager checked him out, more interested in his iPad than in the departing guests. Rick didn’t even need to make a detour to the sea to get rid of his phone, because they passed a section of roadworks shortly after leaving the B&B, and he dropped it into a deep muddy hole in the road.

  ‘What was that?’ Soraya was shivering. ‘Are we going to Mummy?’

  ‘Just a stone. Yes, the station’s along here. See the red and white sign?’

  In the train he tried to relax – he should plan now. This was surreal. He was running away from his wife, who, if Amanda was to be believed, had involved the police to search for him – and oh, what was going on with the shed? Until he knew that he’d have to be very careful. Soraya was staring out of the window in a way that made him hope she would fall asleep soon. He wasn’t looking forward to the moment when she realised they weren’t going home to Mummy. And what would they do when they reached Penzance? Find another B&B was the obvious answer, but it wouldn’t be easy to do that and remain safely anonymous. But he couldn’t sleep rough with a child under his arm. How in the name of all that was holy had he ended up like this?

  Soraya slept for a good hour but was irritable when she awoke. Fortunately for Rick she didn’t realise they weren’t in St Ives until they were leaving the station building in Penzance.

  ‘Where are we? This isn’t home!’

  Rick had decided to jolly her along as far as possible. ‘Clever girl. This is Penzance. It’s not far from St Ives and Mummy’s joining us here tomorrow. She phoned while you were asleep.’

  Soraya shot him a look he could only describe as malevolent. ‘You said - ’

  Rick bent and hugged her, not allowing her to squirm away. ‘I know, sweetie, but your Grandma’s still upset about Grandpa, and Mummy needs to help her. She said to give you lots of love. You’ll see her tomorrow.’

  The little girl blinked, her lips trembling. Rick took her hand. ‘Come on. We’ll find a nice B&B, will we?’

  They wandered along Chyandour Cliff until they came to a small guesthouse whose sign was announcing vacancies, and Rick booked them in as quickly as he could. It was nothing much, but it was cheap, which was just as well, because the wad of cash he’d drawn from the ATM at Newquay would have to last him for a while. He couldn’t risk using his card again if the police were looking for them. Once in their bedroom he sank down on one of the twin beds, massaging his thumping head – when had he last had a headache this bad? It was the stress, it had to be. Maybe he’d feel better if he ate something.

  He forced a smile for Soraya. ‘You’re a big girl, aren’t you? Why don’t I leave you to unpack for us both while I go and fetch something to eat?’

  She stared at him dumbly, her eyes huge. He tossed her the key to his suitcase but instead of catching it she allowed it to fall to the floor. Rick glared at her and left.

  There was a mini-market further along the road and he stocked up with a supply of goodies – anything to keep Soraya distracted. He bought a couple of colouring-in books for her, and half a bottle of wine for him, though his head might not thank him for it.

  Back in the B&B, Soraya’s tearstained face brightened slightly when he went into the room. Had she been afraid he’d abandoned her forever? He gave her a tub of chocolate muesli and a banana, and she sat at the tiny desk in the corner while he switched on the equally tiny TV, turning it to prevent Soraya seeing the screen. He would watch the news – if Gareth had been found it would definitely make the bulletin at the top of the hour.

  To his utter dismay that was exactly what had happened. The first item was a bomb scare in London, but then a familiar scene replaced the image of the Houses of Parliament and Rick sat frozen on his bed as he saw his own street – his own house – fill the screen. They had cordoned off the driveway. He didn’t dare put the sound on in case Soraya noticed what was going on, but at least there was no picture of him or Soraya. Yet. He would catch the late news while Soraya was asleep. A sob rose in Rick’s throat and he swallowed it down, painfully, before the little girl noticed anything.

  He didn’t need to wonder any more what was going to happen to him. Stone-cold certainty filled his head and he switched the television off. He would go to prison. He had buried a man in the garden, and he couldn’t prove that Gareth’s death had been an accident. Rick moaned aloud then turned it into a fit of coughing as Soraya looked round, her face full of apprehension.

  ‘I swallowed the wrong way.’ Now he was making excuses to a six-year-old.

  ‘You aren’t eating anything.’

  ‘I was sucking a sweet. Look, I brought you some too.’

  The diversion tactic worked, and Rick returned to his pondering. Would Amanda help him? He should have called her before abandoning his phone. It wouldn’t be long until Gareth was identified, and… Rick began to feel sick. Amanda could deny everything. She would save her own skin first, for Jaden and the baby, and there was nothing to connect her to Gareth’s death. She had driven ‘Gareth’ to Lamorna to start his walk, and the people in the café had confirmed that. He, in contrast, had taken the day off work and disappeared off the face of the earth from early morning until late afternoon. Burying Gareth in his own garden was a complete admission of guilt. The police would deduce he had met Gareth that day and killed him.

  A picture swam before Rick’s eyes. Him and Ella, this time last year, looking forward to having a little boy to love. Where had it all gone so wrong? He strode into the en suite where he sat on the toilet seat, his face buried in a bath towel, sobs shaking his shoulders.

  His head was buzzing more than ever, and he swallowed a couple of paracetamol. Ella had done this to him. But he had his revenge; he had Soraya here and no one knew. He could jump off a cliff with Ella’s daughter tomorrow. And – what choice did he have? They would find him eventually.

  Returning to the bedroom, he gave Soraya the carton of blackcurrant juice he’d bought, and opened the bottle of wine. If this was going to be his last evening on the planet, he might as well make it a good one.

  Chapter Six

  Friday 1st August

  ‘Was it okay?’ Owen clicked the indicator up and pulled away from the police station in the centre of St Ives.

  Ella leaned back in the passenger seat, her eyes closed
, more thankful than she could say that Owen’s job was based in Newquay so he hadn’t been interviewing her. He was a – a friend who was also a police officer. The interview had lasted over an hour, and never in all her life had she felt so utterly bone-weary. Everything had changed; she wasn’t in control of her life any more, and Soraya was gone. The pain was both dull and sharp; the constant ache of long-term fear alongside piercing shafts of an agony she’d only imagined before she had a child to love – and lose.

  ‘I suppose so. They asked about the shed and Rick, and how much he’d changed and what he’d been doing and – I felt so stupid. If I’d talked to him more, made him tell me what was going on in his head...’

  He said nothing, and she opened her eyes, squinting in the evening sunlight. They were driving along the coast road, and how macabre it was to see the tourists – families, young couples, teenagers, all happy and sun-browned, living the day, milling around on their way home from the beach. While she was in the middle of the biggest nightmare imaginable. Owen’s face was grim and Ella sat straighter.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Ella, Rick’s a grown man. You aren’t responsible for his actions.’

  She twisted in the seat to see his face. ‘You know something, don’t you? I thought Detective Inspector Martin knew more than he was telling me. Please tell me it’s about the body and not Soraya.’

  Her voice was shaking as much as her hands were. Because terrible as it sounded, the body was of secondary importance. A skeleton was beyond help. Soraya was vulnerable and needy, and the important thing was to find her.

  Owen turned up the hill towards home. ‘I don’t have much more info than you do. They’ve identified the body, but the information won’t be made public until the next of kin are informed. I don’t know who it is either.’

  Ella’s world swirled before her eyes and she clenched both fists. The police knew who had been buried in her garden all those weeks. ‘I thought DNA tests or whatever took days.’

  ‘There was an SOS pendant round the person’s neck,’ said Owen quietly. ‘So it’s odds-on the identification according to that is correct.’

  Ella shuddered, then stared across Cedar Road where a little crowd had gathered. Owen swung the car into his driveway to a series of flashes. ‘I’m afraid we’ll have the press here for a day or two. Get inside as quickly as you can, Ella. I’ll have a word with them.’

  Eight or nine men and women were standing around the street with cameras and microphones, and a TV van was parked further down the road. Ella stumbled towards Owen’s front door, conscious that cameras were clicking, immortalising her every move.

  The front door opened as Ella approached and Caroline stood back to let her in. ‘Oh Ella, this is a dreadful ordeal for you. I’m glad we can help.’

  Ella sank down at the kitchen table and buried her face in her hands. How completely hopeless everything seemed, and all she wanted was her girl. But Soraya wasn’t her girl, was she?

  Owen came in and poured them all a drink. Ella forced back her tears and sipped the wine, feeling the liquid warm its way through her gut. Thank goodness Owen was here to field the press. A missing child in combination with a skeleton under a garden shed was news, she understood that – but understanding made it no easier to cope.

  Owen rummaged in fridge and cupboards, and laid cheese and a tin of crackers on the table. Ella clutched her middle. Food was the last thing she felt like.

  ‘What happens now?’ she asked.

  ‘We eat,’ he said, slicing Brie and pushing the biscuits towards her. ‘You need to stay strong. The local DI is confident the body will be formally identified tomorrow. What else did they tell you?’

  Ella sat making crumbs with a biscuit. Did he really not know, or was he just making her talk it through? ‘They’re searching in Newquay hotels, stations etc for Rick and Soraya, and in St Ives and a few other places too. Airports have been alerted though they don’t think Rick’ll try to get her out of the country. And they’re trying to track his phone. An appeal with photos will be put out tomorrow unless he’s found.’

  He nodded, and Ella forced down a piece of Brie. Soraya was conspicuous, with her long dark hair. A man with a little girl, surely someone would notice and remember? But this was the holiday season, the resorts were packed with tourists, and a lot of them were men and little girls with long dark hair. Ella twirled her wine glass. Was Soraya all right? Not knowing was killing her. All those years she had waited for her child, but Rick snatched the happiness away almost before it began. And how bloody dare he.

  Gradually, anger replaced the helpless feeling, and Ella sat planning. She should be active here. Her husband had as good as abducted their child and this was no time to throw a wobbly. She was depending on Owen far too much. Ella pulled out her mobile and keyed in Liz’s number.

  ‘Liz, sorry to disturb you. Do you know yet what’s going to happen with the adoption authorities?’

  ‘It depends a lot on whether Rick has committed a crime, Ella. But Soraya’ll go back to Mel, short term at least. I’m sorry.’

  Sick at heart, Ella ended the call. Rick was not going to win here. She would fight with every bone in her body, she would divorce him as soon as she could and she would re-apply to adopt Soraya. She had found her child and she wasn’t going to lose her again.

  Chapter Seven

  Friday 1st August

  ‘Book. Book!’ For the third time Jaden sat up in his cot, and Amanda fought to keep her patience. But if she spent the next few minutes being anything other than calm and pleasant it would be the end of getting him to sleep quickly.

  ‘Let’s have a song. You lie down and Mummy’ll sing all the songs your Grandma used to sing to me.’

  Jaden lay down again, his bear under one arm and the other hand clutching Amanda’s. She took a deep breath. No way would she have managed yet another reading of Dear Zoo, Jaden’s book of the moment, without losing it completely. He always had a hard time finding sleep after an afternoon away from her. Poor baby. He needed his mum, but his mum needed him to go to sleep and give her some peace to think in.

  Climb Every Mountain followed by Feed the Birds – her mother was still a big fan of musicals – and Jaden was slumbering, a sweet, happy little smile on his face. Amanda crept from the room and went to make tea. What she needed was a stiff V&T, but the baby wouldn’t enjoy that. Back on the sofa, mug balanced on the beginning of her bump, she glared at her phone on the coffee table. What was happening, out there in the world? Maybe she should call Ella, but if Rick had hidden Gareth at home and the police found evidence of this… it might look odd if she was continually calling and visiting Ella. As next of kin she’d be the first to be told if the police found a body. Oh, please let Gareth be in a nice woodland grave somewhere, a place of beauty and tranquillity.

  It still might be all right.

  The sound of teenage voices from the street had her rushing to close the kitchen window. Heaven help her if Jaden woke up. Amanda massaged her tummy, feeling the answering kick from within. She wasn’t alone, she had her babies. The doorbell shrilled out and she jumped.

  It was the police. Amanda stood aside to let them in, motioning towards Jaden’s room and murmuring, ‘My son’s asleep.’

  Sergeant Jacobs and a tall man who introduced himself as Detective Inspector Martin followed her through to the living room. Amanda’s brain was whirring; this was going to be important. Should her first thought be that the visit had something to do with Gareth, or should she be more worried about Rick and Soraya? It might be better to let them speak first.

  She motioned the two men towards the sofa and perched on the edge of an armchair. Tense. She should look tense and nervous, that would be right no matter what, and heaven knows it wasn’t difficult. Be careful, Amanda. You have two children who need you.

  Sergeant Jacobs cleared his throat. ‘Mrs Waters – Amanda – I’m very sorry but we have to inform you a body has been found and we have reason to belie
ve it’s your husband’s.’

  Amanda swallowed. ‘Oh no. Where – when?’

  ‘It was found earlier today under a shed in the area. Along with the body we found this.’

  Amanda felt her eyes widen. For a moment it was difficult to breathe. Rick had buried Gareth under the garden shed… That was just – sordid. She could have accepted Rick leaving Gareth in the shed for a little while… but not this.

  Sergeant Jacobs put a clear plastic bag containing a stainless steel SOS pendant on the coffee table. Amanda’s breath caught and her hands were shaking as she reached to touch the plastic with one finger. She’d forgotten all about the pendant. But it wouldn’t make any difference, would it?

  ‘The information inside has your husband’s name and your old address. Can you identify this?’

  ‘Yes. Gareth’s – he was allergic to penicillin. I told you. I didn’t think… he didn’t always wear it…. Are you sure it’s him?’

  ‘A DNA test’s being done to confirm the identification.’

  ‘And this shed…?’ Amanda sat with her hands clenched under her chin. This was tricky. Ella’s neighbour was a policeman, and he knew she was aware that Ella was worried about her shed. Did these men know too? Should she be suspicious – or should it be a complete surprise – shock – that Gareth was under Ella’s shed? Shock would be best. And there was no need to act here, she was genuinely distraught. Poor Gareth, what had he done to deserve being buried under a shed? Damn Rick to hell.

  ‘It’s at 43 Cedar Road.’

  She could see they were watching her, waiting to see what her response was. She leapt to her feet. ‘That’s Ella’s address – she was talking about the shed earlier – why was Gareth under Ella’s shed?’