Chosen Child

by Linda Huber

  That was good, she could see their faces relax. DI Martin answered.

  ‘We’re investigating that. We’re still looking for Mr Baxter – he may have information that would help us. Mrs Baxter has already been interviewed.’

  Amanda flopped back into her chair. Think, think. She’d met ‘Rick’ after she came here… Holding her hands over her mouth, she looked from one man to the other.

  ‘Do you think that Rick – I always thought he was a bit odd… But why would he bury… Did he kill Gareth?’

  ‘We’re still investigating. What made you think Mr Baxter was odd?’

  ‘It was – he was so jumpy. He must have known Gareth was my husband because I told Ella about losing him before I even met Rick…’ She couldn’t remember if this was true or not, but they weren’t likely to check it, were they? The two men on the sofa were gazing at her benevolently, and Amanda burst into noisy tears. A little more drama wouldn’t hurt.

  ‘I don’t understand! Gareth disappeared miles from here!’

  Sergeant Jacobs put the pendant back into his pocket. ‘You last saw him at Lamorna, but we don’t actually know where he disappeared – or died. That’s what we need to find out. Is there anyone you can call to be with you?’

  Amanda wiped her eyes with her sleeve. ‘I’ll call my – my mum-in-law. She’s in Glasgow but she’ll come down straightaway.’

  The two men rose.

  ‘Your husband’s name won’t be made public yet. We’ll be in touch tomorrow,’ said Detective Inspector Martin.

  Amanda showed them to the door, then went back to the living room and burst into genuine tears. They didn’t suspect her, but oh, what had happened to her life? Fierce longing for the old days swept through Amanda, the simple days when she was a bored stay-at-home mum with a baby, and she grabbed a sofa cushion and squeezed it to her chest. She had turned into a monster.

  Gradually, the sobs subsided and she wiped her eyes. She had to make things work, for her children. All she needed to do was stick to the original plan made by her and ‘James’. Hopefully Rick wouldn’t drop her in it… but then she could deny everything. It would be her word against his. She’d need to get rid of her phone again, in case the police decided to investigate her. But now for Susie.

  Amanda picked up her mobile then dropped it again. It would be cruel to phone at this time of night when Suze couldn’t get a plane until the morning anyway. Had there been anything on the news? But if Suze had seen anything she’d have called straightaway.

  It was half an hour later when Amanda was lying in bed, eyes wide open and mind still racing, that she realised what her one mistake had been.

  She had told Soraya the St Christopher was Gareth’s.

  Chapter Eight

  Saturday 2nd August

  It was after eight when Ella awoke in Owen’s box room the following morning. His mother, of course, had the main guest bedroom. She reached for her phone on the chair beside the bed, and stared in disbelief. She had slept for ten hours. Had Owen spiked her drink? And what had Soraya been doing all that time? Panic surged through her at the thought of her child needing help, needing her mother – and in spite of everything Ella was still hoping to be Soraya’s mother – and having no one but her father to depend on. The father who had buried someone in his back garden. Ella pulled on clothes and ran downstairs. Please, let there be news, let this be the day her girl was returned safely, even if social services did whisk her away again.

  Caroline was at the kitchen table with her library book. ‘No new news,’ she said at once, getting up to put the kettle on. ‘No, let me do it, Ella. It’s good for me; I can’t be depending on Owen for the rest of my life. He’s gone to the police station to see what’s happening.’

  Ella dropped into a chair and accepted a mug of tea. No news was bad news, as far as she was concerned. ‘The police said yesterday they’d come and see me this morning. I should look out some photos for the appeal.’

  It wasn’t much, but it was all she could do to help find Soraya. She sat swiping through the images on her phone until she found two good ones – one of Soraya alone, her little face bright but not smiling, and the three of them in McDonald’s a couple of weeks ago. A family group. Ella blinked furiously. This was horrible – she couldn’t even call on her mother for help, and oh, poor Dad… But howling would help no one.

  The sound of cars outside interrupted her thoughts, and Ella saw Owen’s Ford and a police car pull up in the driveway. DI Martin went to speak to two reporters who were lingering outside, and whatever he said made them walk off towards their own vehicle. Ella sat straighter. Was there news? Hope flared painfully in her chest.

  ‘You can go back into your house in an hour,’ said DI Martin. ‘They’re finishing up now. We’re still looking at your husband’s laptop and we’ve taken some paperwork too. Here’s your receipt for that.’

  He slid a piece of paper across the table and Ella took it automatically. It wasn’t important. ‘Are you any closer to finding them?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. Your husband’s mobile signals end after Newquay. We’re putting out an appeal this morning. Do you have any images we can use?’

  Ella sent the pictures to his phone. She didn’t want to sound as if she was telling him how to do his job, but... ‘Um – I’m worried Rick might have concussion. Will you say something in the appeal about him maybe needing medical attention?’

  He checked the images, nodding. ‘That’s the plan. Your car is also being checked. There are several finds – hairs and the like – being investigated. We have to rule everything out.’

  Ella clenched her fists. Had Rick transported a dead body in their car? What a sick thought – and how had he managed to live with himself, knowing what he’d done? When exactly had he buried this poor person – and was it a man? Or a woman – the girlfriend? And when had it happened?

  Ella blinked despair away as another thought struck her. This could be the reason for Rick’s time off work. She should tell them about that. The police would have to talk to his colleagues, find out when Rick had been absent. She only knew what he’d told her and that was a pack of lies. Over the course of what should have been the happiest summer of their lives, her husband had turned into a lying stranger. A murderer? Why else would he have hidden a dead body?

  Chapter Nine

  Saturday 2nd August

  Rick stood in the dimness of the reception corner, the guesthouse phone jammed to his ear. It was an old-fashioned model with the receiver attached to the base station, probably to stop people walking off with it. The girl at the desk was clicking around on the computer and obviously had no intention of leaving him alone to make his call. But complaining about the lack of privacy would make him conspicuous and after all, they were letting him use their phone. Rick peered at the paper where he’d listed his contacts and keyed in Amanda’s number, imagining her at home in her flat with Jaden. And his baby. Please answer, please take this, Amanda.

  And she did, because of course she didn’t know it was him. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Amanda, it’s me, I’m - ’

  He could hear her breath hiss as she inhaled and then she was – not shouting, exactly, because thank God her voice was low – but he could hear the fury all the time she was speaking.

  ‘Listen very carefully, Rick. You and I are over. Finito. I had two policemen here last night breaking the news to me that Gareth’s been found under your bloody shed. I can’t even begin to tell you how I feel about that. But it’s nothing to do with me. I last saw Gareth when I waved goodbye to him at Lamorna and you can’t prove otherwise. Now bugger off and hand yourself in.’

  The line buzzed in his ear, and Rick gripped the edge of the desk with his free hand. She’d hung up on him – he needed her help and she’d told him to bugger off. What a cow. But quick, he should say something to convince the receptionist the call had ended normally.

  ‘Perfect. See you soon, then.’ He replaced the receiver on its base and ma
naged a grin for the girl. ‘Thanks for that. I must have left my mobile on the train yesterday.’

  She smiled vaguely, and Rick turned away. Least said, soonest forgotten.

  Upstairs, Soraya was spooning her way through a tub of strawberry yoghurt, a little frown on her face. ‘I like it better at home when it’s cold from the fridge,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘Is Mummy coming very soon today?’

  ‘Very soon,’ said Rick. ‘That’s why we’re not having a proper breakfast. We’ll go for a lovely walk, and then it’ll be time to meet Mummy.’

  She accepted this, but her expression was bleak and Rick felt his temper rise. He should have taken her home days ago, dumped her at the end of the road and disappeared. Alone, he could have left the area – he could have left the country, started a new life somewhere else. He reached for the bottle of paracetamol. The background pain in his head had gone on so long now he was almost used to it, but Soraya whining every time she opened her mouth made him see stars.

  He stared at the girl, scraping the sides of her yoghurt carton. She looked like – like a child nobody cared about. Her hair was a mess and her clothes were rumpled, and this, combined with her natural thinness, had turned her into a poor little wretch. Topping them both was drastic, but the thought of spending the next however many years in prison was horrendous. His life was ruined, and all because they’d started to adopt a child. Ella had changed, then the dream changed too because the child he had wasn’t the child he’d have chosen. In a way you could say that Ella and Soraya between them had killed Gareth. A fresh wave of tension surged through Rick’s head and he groaned. What had happened to him that he was even thinking like this?

  ‘Can we go now?’ Soraya’s face was pale.

  Rick nodded, then stopped because it hurt. Stupid girl. She only wanted to go because then they’d have started on the journey to Mummy. He shook three paracetamol into his hand and grimaced as he swallowed them with a slug of room temperature orange juice.

  ‘You brush your teeth while I finish packing. We’ll leave the cases at reception.’

  Her face brightened and she ran towards the bathroom.

  The bus dropped them at the top end of Lamorna Cove, and Rick grasped Soraya’s hand as they started the trek downhill.

  ‘Why did we come here?’ Soraya gazed unenthusiastically down the lane stretching in front of them.

  Rick groaned inwardly. Why indeed? He didn’t know, but part of the reason was to somehow touch base with the man he’d buried under the shed. Which was stupid, as Gareth had never made it as far as Lamorna this summer. But the buzzing in his head was so loud he couldn’t think straight, and anyway, a walk was something to do while he was deciding whether to jump off the cliff or go to the police. Could he really face prison?

  ‘I told you. We’ll have a lovely walk first, and then we’re meeting Mummy in the café further down here.’

  He gripped her hand and she allowed him to lead her down the narrow lane. For the first few yards they were in full sunlight and his head shrieked in protest, but shady trees and bushes soon appeared on the verge, and Rick crept along on their shadow. When they reached the cove he realised that telling Soraya about the café had been a mistake. All she wanted now was to have an ice cream and wait for Mummy, and Rick felt his temper desert him. He gripped the child’s shoulder and hissed into her face.

  ‘This not all about what you want! Come on!’

  She flinched, then nodded stiffly, her eyes huge. Rick looked round. The last time he’d been here he’d been Gareth. The coastal path from Lamorna to Mousehole was a tricky one, not necessarily something you’d want to do with your six-year-old daughter. But he couldn’t stop now. They would repeat Gareth’s walk and he would decide whether or not to end it all. But deep inside he knew he wasn’t brave enough for that. It would be prison for him.

  Pulling Soraya behind him, Rick started along the path, feeling lighter in spite of his headache. It was so lovely; the ever-changing blue of the ocean as it surged and swelled, stretching on and on to be replaced by the lighter blue of the sky – the best view in the world. And this might be his last walk in freedom for – well, that would depend what they convicted him of, wouldn’t it? He should memorise this scene, build it up layer by layer in his memory – something to picture during his imprisonment.

  ‘I’m thirsty. I want my juice.’ Soraya wrenched her hand free and sat down on a rock to open her rucksack.

  Rick plumped down on the turf beside her. They were in full sunlight here and it was blinding. His head shrieked and he lay flat, pulling his cap across his eyes as some slight protection, and listening as Soraya grunted in her efforts to open the carton of juice. A slurping sound told him she’d succeeded, and Rick felt the world drifting away. The odd seagull cry… the sound of the waves as they crashed into the rocks… the wind rustling through the long grass beside him. Such a peaceful place, a beautiful place, sun and sea and the elements.

  When the juice was finished Rick tottered to his feet and they went on. The path was almost deserted; a lot of people missed this section out because it was challenging. But the views were stunning, and even in his weakened state Rick was able to appreciate the seascape in front of him.

  ‘I want to go back now. I want to go to Mummy.’

  The same old whine, and something snapped inside Rick. He lowered his face to Soraya’s. ‘Just do as you’re damn well told. If you don’t we won’t ever go back. Got that?’

  The terrified expression was back, and she nodded. Rick wheeled round. On, on.

  He staggered, feeling the heat on the back of his neck, oh, that sun. It was high in the sky, beating down without mercy. His head was pounding in spite of the sun cap and dark glasses, and when they came to a bend where the track crept round a rock, sickeningly close to the edge, the vague nausea in Rick’s middle became acute.

  ‘Sit down and wait,’ he told Soraya. He dived behind a spur of rock and vomited violently. For a few seconds he felt better, but as soon as he straightened up the sickness returned. Rick leaned on the rock, vomiting and retching and spitting, and then gradually began to feel more normal. Apart from his head – that was still pounding. He turned back to the track and Soraya.

  She was gone. And apart from this rock, there was nowhere she could be hiding. Panicking, Rick stared round, pain stabbing through his eyes as his head moved left and right. Where the hell was she? But of course she’d gone back, back to the café where Mummy was supposedly coming to meet them. He stumbled a few steps in that direction, then voices behind him made him flop down on the scrubby grass by the track and pull his cap well over his eyes.

  It was a middle-aged couple and two teenage boys. Lucky parents, going hiking with their sons. Rick raised his hand in reply when they greeted him in passing, then rolled onto his front, smelling the sweetness of the warm grass and shading his eyes from that terrible sun. It was over. His legs were trembling and there was something wrong with one eye – he couldn’t hurry after Soraya. She would reach the café before him and everyone there would witness whatever scene played out then. He wouldn’t get away as lightly as he’d done in the snack bar yesterday, when they’d met the bikers.

  He stood up, then turned left and continued along the track. He’d go on to Mousehole and contact the police there. They might even be waiting for him, if Soraya told her story at Lamorna. They might catch him up before he ever got there.

  On and on he blundered, stopping every so often to look out over the blueness of the Atlantic. He should have been happy here. A family man… For long minutes he followed the path through merciless sunlight, then a blessedly shady part with bushes and trees appeared before him. Rick dropped to his knees in cool dimness and rolled into a ball. He would have a little sleep here and then he’d go on.

  Darkness swirled around his head, and he sank into it.

  Chapter Ten

  Saturday 2nd August

  ‘They’ve found a body, Suze.’

  Aman
da waited, fingers sliding on the phone as Susie sobbed down the line. This was worse than telling her mother-in-law that Gareth had disappeared in the first place; then at least the poor soul had been able to hope her son would turn up again. Susie ranted on about Gareth having done nothing to deserve any of this, Amanda murmuring, ‘I know, I know,’ and fighting to keep hold of her composure. Eventually Susie’s diatribe came to a halt and Amanda made her suggestion.

  ‘I’d like to come to Glasgow if you’ll have us for a bit. It isn’t good for Jaden, being in the middle of this. I never know when we might meet someone and they’ll say something that’d frighten him. He understands a lot now.’

  Susie was silent for a moment before she spoke again. ‘You can come and welcome, hen, but I’ll come down to you for a few days first. I need to hear what the police have to say. Are they sure it’s him?’

  Jaden cried out from his cot in the middle of Amanda’s explanation, and she was glad of the excuse to end the call.

  ‘They expect to confirm it soon. I have to see to Jaden – you book your flight and we’ll talk in half an hour or so.’

  Maybe it would be better to have Suze here to help with the police, she mused as she dressed Jaden then sat him down with a piece of toast. Suze wouldn’t make a mistake about what she knew, so having her here to do most of the talking would be an advantage. Then later they could go back to Glasgow together – they could arrange the funeral in Glasgow.

  The thought of what was left of Gareth being buried or cremated made her stomach churn, although the morning sickness was more or less over. She was seventeen weeks pregnant tomorrow, realised Amanda, looking at the kitchen calendar. If – no, when they went to Glasgow she’d need to get antenatal care organised there. But that shouldn’t be a problem and a big city hospital would have the added benefit of anonymity. When Susie called back to say she’d be arriving in Newquay late that afternoon Amanda was able to sound suitably grateful.