The Disappearance of Katie Wren

by Cross,Amy

  She chuckles at the idea.

  “I'm serious,” I tell her. “Maybe someone like me can actually get to the bottom of this mess. You say you've been trying to get to the truth about Knott's Court for a decade. Well, it doesn't seem as if you've managed to achieve very much. Perhaps you've simply been going about it all wrong.”

  She stares at me for a moment.

  “No,” she says finally, before starting to make more notes.

  “No?”

  “No. It's out of the question.”

  “But -”

  “What's out of the question?” Tim asks, arriving from the kitchen with a huge breakfast loaded onto a plate. “Now, I was out of sausages I'm afraid, but I'll get some later and have them all ready tomorrow morning. Or... I mean, I don't know whether you'll be here again tomorrow or...”

  His voice trails off, and then he sets the plate in front of her.

  “Do you really think Katie is mixed up in all of this?” I ask, keeping my eyes fixed on Annabelle. “My daughter is missing, and I can't afford any more distractions. If you honestly believe that Knott's Court has any relation to her disappearance, then I'm ready to march back in there and start asking questions, but if you're just trying to co-opt me into your own private obsession with that house, then I really don't think it's fair.”

  She pauses for a moment, before getting to her feet.

  “I'll prove it to you,” she tells me.

  “And how are you going to do that?”

  “How else?” She grabs her coat and heads to the door. “By taking you to church.”

  “Don't forget about your breakfast!” Tim calls after her. “You need fuel if you're going to spend all day working!”

  A moment later, we hear the front door swinging open and then shutting again.

  “I expect she'll grab a burger while she's out,” I tell him, before feeling my phone buzzing in my pocket. Slipping out out, I see a message from Annabelle, telling me to hurry and join her in the car before we end up running late.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Body

  “See, that's my favorite piece of stained glass in the whole world,” Annabelle says as we stop halfway along the aisle. “It depicts the procession of Saint Barnabus as he made his way up from the banks of the river Elbz.”

  “Saint who?” I ask, staring up at the brightly-lit window as sunlight streams through into the church. “The river what?”

  “I might have got a few parts of that wrong,” she continues. “It might have been a different saint, and a different river. I'm not good with the details of all that stuff, but I like the colors and I think the guy has kind of a goofy expression. See what I mean?”

  “I'm really not sure whether -”

  “Harry Plume used to bring me here,” she adds. “Back when I started on the papers, we worked out of an office just down the road. Did you see that abandoned place on the corner?”

  “The one with all the tarpaulin?”

  She nods. “It's just an empty shell now. Kinda symbolic, huh? But in the old days, it was this thriving office filled with people who still gave a damn about turning out a proper newspaper. Real journalists, people who felt they had a duty to hold powerful people to account. That's what I signed up for, that's the kind of work I wanted to do. We'd work our asses off all day every day, but I noticed that Harry kept disappearing at lunchtimes, so eventually I asked him where he went. Turns out, he used to wander over to this old place and admire the windows. He brought sandwiches from home and everything. Anyway, he said it was fine for me to tag along, so I ended up admiring the windows too.”

  I turn to her, and for a moment I can't help but feel slightly surprised by the hint of awe in her eyes. She's staring up at the windows as if they actually mean something to her.

  “You're freaking me out,” she says suddenly.

  “Why?”

  “You're staring at me.”

  “I'm just surprised, that's all.”

  “By the fact that I give a damn about stuff?”

  “This Harry fellow was important to you, wasn't he?”

  “He was the best person I ever met,” she replies, turning to me for a moment before heading off along the aisle, leading me toward the altar. “This might surprise you, but when I first arrived in London I was kind of a mess. I didn't really have my shit together, and I was kinda this loud-mouthed, slightly annoying asshole.”

  “You don't say,” I mutter.

  “But Harry pulled me up on it,” she adds as we reach the end of the aisle and stop in front of the altar. She checks her watch, almost as if she's waiting for something specific. “He said he saw something in me, something good, but that I was in danger of wasting it. Now, for the record, I'm still not convinced he was right about all of it. I'm not sure I'm good. But his words struck a chord, and I started to clean myself up a little. And Harry took me under his wing. He taught me a whole lotta stuff that they never mention at school, and he introduced me to contacts, and he trained me to basically be like him. He made me believe that our work was important. That we had a duty to go face-to-face with powerful people and ask questions.”

  She pauses, staring straight ahead for a moment.

  “And then they killed him for asking the wrong questions.”

  “You mean Knott's Court?”

  “Knott's Court and the whole festering system that keeps that place propped up.”

  I look at the altar and see a rather beautiful gold crucifix.

  “I hate gold,” Annabelle says after a moment. “Who the fuck wants a gold cross? Give me good old-fashioned wood any day.”

  “Why are we -”

  “Is there someone behind us?”

  “I beg your -”

  “It's not a trick question,” she continues, checking her watch again. “There's someone behind us, isn't there?”

  I pause, before turning and looking back along the aisle. At first I don't see anyone, but finally I spot a figure in the process of settling on one of the farthest pews, in the shadows right at the very back.

  “Just one person,” I whisper, turning back to her. “A man, I think. It looks like he just arrived.”

  “They're following us.”

  “Who are?”

  I sigh as I realize what she means.

  “I'm sure a man can come to church one morning for other reasons,” I tell her. “You can't just assume that he's some paid detective who's been sent to keep tabs on us. I'm afraid we're simply not that important.”

  “This is why I brought you here,” she continues. “To show you that these assholes, as friendly as they might have been to you this morning when you knocked on their door, are now following you. Well, following us. Believe me, the fact that you're hanging out with me is going to set a few alarm bells ringing. They already know about my connections to Harry, and that'll be all they need. They might have treated you like a doddery old fool when you visited, but now they'll be a lot more concerned. If that scares you, then it should. If it doesn't, then you need to wake the fuck up and smell the coffee.”

  I can't help sighing. “Annabelle -”

  “I've been waiting for this moment,” she adds, her voice stiff with tension. “Like I told you before, I've always been very careful in the past, to make sure they don't get too worried about me. I've been on their radar for years, ever since they murdered Harry, but they weren't concerned enough to actually do anything about it. But I always knew that one day I'd have to step into the light and let them see that I'm after them. That's the other reason I brought you here this morning, Winnie. I want them to see that I'm onto them. I want them to know that I'm picking up where Harry left off. By coming here with you, I'm sending them a powerful message.”

  “This is ridiculous,” I tell her. “There's no -”

  Before I can finish, I spot movement at the far end of the aisle. Turning, I see two more men stepping into the church. One of them takes a seat ,while the other remains standing. I tell myself th
at there's no reason to be concerned, that it's perfectly normal for a church to receive visitors, but deep in my chest I can't shake a flicker of concern.

  “Three now, right?” Annabelle whispers.

  “Yes, but -”

  “They're not being very subtle,” she continues. “That's a bad sign. It means they're more worried than I expected. Maybe it means they've decided to nip this thing in the bud.”

  “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

  She glances at me. “What's wrong? Do you think they wouldn't kill someone in a church?”

  I open my mouth to ask if she's serious, but somehow I can already see the answer in her eyes.

  “I'm joking,” she continues. “Maybe. Kinda. They might just be sending a message in return, to let me know that they know that I know something's up. Or they might have been told to stage a little tragedy. It's hard to tell for sure.”

  “Do you really believe this?” I ask, starting to fear that Annabelle might be seriously mentally ill.

  “Listen to me very carefully,” she continues, “because I suspected this might happen, so I made arrangements. These guys are smart, but they're not omnipotent, and there's one thing they hopefully haven't counted on.”

  “What's that?”

  “They have guns,” she adds. “I promise you, they have guns hidden beneath their coats, with silencers. And they didn't bring them for protection.”

  “This is ludicrous,” I stammer. “You're imagining all of this! Just because three people came into the church after us, that's no -”

  “Four.”

  “I'm sorry?”

  “There's a fourth. I guarantee it. He'll be at the other exit, just in case we try to make a run for it. He'll probably have made sure the priest is otherwise occupied, too.”

  “You can't be serious...”

  She checks her watch.

  “I'm getting out of here,” I tell her. “I'm going to go to a different police station, and I'm going to force them to take Katie's disappearance more seriously.”

  “Wait!”

  I can't help sighing.

  “If you try to walk out now,” she continues, keeping her voice low as she places a hand on my arm, “they'll make their move.”

  “According to you, they're going to do that anyway.”

  She looks at her watch again. “Where the hell are those nuns?” she whispers.

  “I beg your -”

  Before I can finish, I spot movement in the corner of my eye. Turning, I see that two of the men are now walking calmly toward us along the aisle.

  “Shit!” Annabelle whispers. “The timing's a little screwy.”

  “They probably just -”

  “They'll be here,” she adds under her breath. “Don't sweat it. They haven't missed a session yet.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Come on!”

  I turn and look past the altar, but I quickly spot someone moving far off at the far end of the church. I feel a flutter of panic in my chest as I realize that, just as Annabelle promised, there seems to be a fourth man blocking the only other way out. Still, I tell myself to stay calm. There's nothing here to threaten us. It's just -

  Suddenly hearing the voices of children, I turn and look back along the aisle, just in time to see several little boys being ushered into the church. I watch as they're followed by some girls, then by more boys until there must be close to thirty children here, guided by two nuns. The sight is quite surreal.

  The two men, meanwhile, have stopped halfway alone the aisle. Slowly, they both turn and look over their shoulders.

  “The local school,” Annabelle says with a grin. “Once a week, they bring the kids here for extra-curricular activities. They're like clockwork. I guess punctuality is next to godliness, huh? And while the four bastards with guns might have hearts of steel, even they know it'd be unwise to start shooting people in a church full of kids. You didn't think I'd bring us here without some kind of back-up plan, did you? Please, I hope you don't take me for a complete fool.”

  I open my mouth to ask what she means, but the children are already hurrying this way.

  “I think I delivered my message,” Annabelle continues, turning and starting to make her way along the aisle. “This way, Winnie. We don't have any time to lose.”

  I hesitate for a moment, before hurrying after her. As we pass the two men, I glance at their faces and see that they're staring at me with calm, stony expressions. Each of them has one hand reaching into a coat pocket, and I have to admit that it looks as if they're holding concealed guns. Still, as I pass the nuns and the last of the children, I try to tell myself that I shouldn't buy into Annabelle's paranoid conspiracy theories just yet.

  “Keep moving!” she hisses at me. “They know we know!”

  I keep pace with her until we reach the door, and finally we step back out into the sun-drenched square at the front of the church.

  “This way,” she continues, grabbing my hand and leading me away from her car. “I don't trust that thing, not anymore. We're gonna go on foot to our next appointment.”

  “What next appointment?”

  “You remember the guy with the goat's head, right? Well, Bob managed to get hold of the body for a second autopsy, and he's very kindly invited us along. We need to get there and see what he's discovered while we still can. By the end of the day, those assholes are gonna be scouring the streets for us. I've made sure they know to be worried.”

  “This makes no sense,” I tell her. “If those people are really as dangerous as you claim, then why in the name of all that's holy would you want to antagonize them like this?”

  “To flush them out. To make them realize that we know.”

  “But -”

  “If I hadn't brought you to the church,” she continues, “they'd have found us someplace else, and they'd have killed us. It's better to know that they're after us than to merely suspect it. We need to stay on our toes.”

  “That's a load of rot!”

  “You shouldn't have gone to Knott's Court his morning, Winnie. You should have told me you were thinking of doing something so utterly stupid. You're the one who escalated this. I'm just reacting. But I needed to see them first. I needed to see with my own eyes that I wasn't imagining the whole thing. And I wasn't.”

  “You're blaming me?” I ask incredulously.

  “You knocked on their door, didn't you?”

  “Well, perhaps if you hadn't been hungover, I wouldn't have had to!”

  “Oh, blame the whiskey.”

  “I'm quite serious!”

  “It's fine,” she adds, stopping once we get to the next corner. She pulls me out of sight, and then she peers back the way we came. “They're out of the church,” she continues, before turning to me. “This is our chance. They don't usually fail when they go to cause trouble for someone, so they won't have had a back-up plan. That means they weren't prepared to track us today, and that in turn means we have a slight head-start.”

  “We must go to the police!” I tell her. “If any of this is even remotely true, we -”

  “The police won't do a thing. They can't. Knott's Court is too powerful.”

  She takes a phone from her pocket.

  “Can't they track you with that thing?” I ask.

  “This is a burner. It's not linked to me in any way, although that won't be the case forever. It should be good for twenty-four hours, though. The only people I've given the number to are Bob, Tim and a few other trusted sources.”

  She starts tapping at the screen.

  “I need to check something with Bob,” she continues. “It might not be so safe for us to go and observe the second autopsy after all. Maybe I should just get him to tell me the results over the phone. Then again, they might -”

  Before she can finish, the phone starts ringing, which seems to startle her for a moment.

  “Who is it?” I ask.

  She stares at the screen, before swiping to answ
er.

  “What do you want?” she says, clearly annoyed. “I told you to only call me on this number if -”

  She stops suddenly.

  “What?”

  I can hear a voice on the other end of the line, but I'm unable to make out any of the words.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” she stammers. “No, don't do that. You have to get her out of there right now. I'll text you details of where to meet us, and you have to go straight there. Don't ask any questions, but for God's sake don't let her out of your sight. Just do it, okay?”

  She cuts the call and starts writing a message.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “A trap,” she replies. “Either that, or the luckiest break two idiots like us ever got in their lives. Either way, we can't ignore it.”

  “But -”

  “Wait a moment!” she hisses. “I need to think! This really might be a trap, but it might also be a chance.”

  “What might be?” I ask. “Will you please tell me what's going on?”

  “Something might just have dropped into our lap,” she replies, her eyes wide with shock. “But... I don't think you're gonna like it...”

  Chapter Twenty

  The Break

  “She showed up about an hour ago,” Tim says as we follow him across the crowded pub. “I really don't see why I had to bring her here, though. We could have just waited in my flat and -”

  “We need to be in public,” Annabelle replies, marching ahead of us both and forcing her way past the people at the bar. “Crowds are our safety net right now. Crowds keep us safe.”

  “This all seems rather strange to me,” he continues, glancing at me as if he expects me to explain the entire situation to him. “I'm have to admit, I was looking forward to a relaxing morning with the crosswords and the sudoku. I had a pot of tea brewed and everything, and then all of a sudden there was a knock at the door. Naturally I assumed it was someone looking to rent one of my flats, but then I found...”

  He hesitates for a moment.

  “Then I found her on the step,” he adds, “and I honestly wasn't sure what to do.”

  Before I can reply, I spot a familiar face up ahead. A shiver runs through my chest as I see that Agnes Bresson is sitting in a booth in the pub's far corner, and I feel not one iota of sympathy for her despite the tears in her eyes or the bruises on her cheek. She looks like an utter mess, but none of that matters to me right now. As I reach the booth and look down at her, all that matters is that she tells me everything she knows. And then I can find Katie, while Agnes and her disgusting boyfriend rot in jail.