We Can See You

by Simon Kernick

  She must have seen the look of shock on Brook’s face because she quickly continued. ‘But your dad made it clear that he would never leave the two of you. I was devastated. I thought he loved me, but unfortunately I found out the hard way that he didn’t.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Brook, detecting a change in her tone.

  Annie continued to cross and uncross her hands on her lap, clearly uncomfortable. ‘I’m ashamed of what happened,’ she said. ‘You have to know that.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Brook, although she wasn’t sure she did.

  ‘One time you and your mom were away somewhere, and Charles was away, too. I stayed the night at your house with your father. We hadn’t seen each other for some time, I remember that. I also remember thinking that our affair couldn’t continue like it was for much longer, because it was hurting me too much.’ She frowned at the memory. ‘Anyways, we were there drinking wine. It was evening. And there was a knock on the door. Naturally your father was concerned. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and obviously I was there. He told me to stay where I was and checked who it was through the window. Straight away he came back into the room, looking like he’d seen a ghost. I thought it must be your mom, but he told me to stay absolutely silent, and that the woman at the door was a crazy lady who was after him for something that he didn’t seem to want to talk about.

  ‘But this lady didn’t go away. She kept banging on the door. I could hear her shouting and yelling outside, saying that she knew your dad was in there. I kept asking him who she was, but he didn’t want to say, and I guess it dawned on me then that I wasn’t the only woman, apart from your mom, that he was seeing.

  ‘I was furious, but scared too, because this lady really wasn’t giving up. I remember she found a rock or something in the yard and threw it through one of the front windows. That was when your dad went out to confront her. He told me to stay where I was, but I wanted to make sure he was going to be okay, so I followed him over to the door. He left it open when he went outside, so I saw and heard it all. She was screaming at him, telling him that she couldn’t believe he’d left her, that he was going to pay for it – and all the while your dad was trying to calm her down. But then she just started hitting and kicking him, saying she thought he loved her, and that was when your father hit her.’

  ‘Dad hit a woman? I can’t believe he’d do that.’ Brook’s tone was defensive. ‘I never saw him raise a hand to anyone. Ever.’

  ‘Well, he hit her hard. Round the face. And she went down on her back like a sack of potatoes.’ Annie had been speaking fast as she recounted the story, but now she paused, as if she wasn’t sure how to continue.

  ‘What happened then?’ asked Brook.

  ‘You sure you want to hear?’

  ‘Tell me everything. I can’t feel any worse than I do right now.’ She took another sip of the coffee, wondering what coffee tasted like in jail.

  ‘I remember this as if it was yesterday, because it damned near floored me, too. She burst into tears and said, “How can you do this to the woman who’s carrying your baby?”’

  ‘She said that?’ Brook felt like throwing up.

  ‘Those were her exact words.’

  ‘What did Dad say?’

  ‘He accused her of lying, saying there was no way he could have made her pregnant, and that he hardly knew her. But he didn’t sound certain, so it was obvious to me that he had slept with her.

  ‘Anyways, this lady got to her feet, a lot calmer now, looked your father in the eye and said she’d make him pay for what he’d just done. Then she saw me in the doorway and gave this kind of dark look and said I’d pay for it, too. That we’d all pay. And then she turned tail and left. Your father saw that I’d seen everything and tried to gloss over it, making out she was this crazy lady stalking him for no reason.’ Annie slowly shook her head. ‘But that was it, for me. I felt such a fool. I told your father I never wanted to see him again, grabbed my things and left.’

  The room fell silent. Brook had been wrong about not being able to feel any worse than she did already. She was feeling far worse now. All she had left of her family were memories. If they were tarnished, she had nothing.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking, honey,’ said Annie quietly. ‘That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. It was a long, long time ago, and three months later you guys moved to England. I remember that Charles wanted to come and say goodbye to you all, but I couldn’t face seeing your father again, I was that devastated. And angry. I was very angry. So I said I didn’t want to go. Charles was shocked and demanded to know why. Eventually I told him.’ There was a long pause. ‘Charles never spoke to your father again. Neither did I. It took a long time, but Charles forgave me and I was never unfaithful to him again.’

  ‘Is that why you didn’t come to the funeral?’ said Brook, as it dawned on her that all this made perfect sense.

  She nodded. ‘I’m sorry. I should have done. But even after all that time it still hurt, and Charles didn’t want me to attend it.’

  ‘You don’t think Charles had anything to do with what happened to my parents, do you? I mean there was no sign of forced entry when they were killed. I think that’s why I was suspected.’

  ‘No,’ she said emphatically. ‘Charles would never have done that. He didn’t want anything to do with your father, but he wouldn’t have killed him. Not all those years after everything had happened.’

  Brook thought back to the pregnant woman. ‘And do you have any idea who this crazy lady was? And how my father met her?’

  Annie shook her head. ‘I haven’t a clue. I can’t really remember anything about her, except that she wasn’t pretty or your father’s type. She was in her twenties, I think, very skinny with long, dark hair. She kind of reminded me of a bird. That’s all I can tell you.’

  Brook knew from experience that memories can play all kinds of tricks on people, and this was probably the best description she was going to get of this mysterious woman. She wondered if the woman had indeed been pregnant or was just trying to scare her father. Brook had been five years old when they’d moved to England, so if there had indeed been a child, he or she would be around thirty now, and the mother would be somewhere in her fifties.

  But in the end she knew she was clutching at straws, hoping that a crazy lady from more than thirty years ago could provide clues as to what had happened to her parents seven years earlier, and indeed, what was happening to her now. And even if she could, there was no way of finding her before the police closed in on Brook herself.

  She finished the coffee. It was over.

  The two women stood up together and Brook surprised herself by stepping forward and hugging Annie. Annie hugged her back, and Brook had to stop herself from crying. She’d always preached that you should never suppress your emotions – that was unnatural – but right now she had to stay strong. There were things she had to organize before she gave herself up. She didn’t trust the police to find Paige, especially as it seemed they thought she was dead, but someone else could continue to search.

  ‘Thank you for talking to me,’ she said as Annie led her back to the front door, not carrying the gun with her this time.

  ‘Stay safe,’ said Annie, moving aside as Brook stepped into the bright sunlight.

  The street was still empty as she reversed the Rav4 out of the driveway and drove away. She still had close to six thousand dollars in cash. Her plan was to deliver that money to Chris Cervantes, tell him what she knew, ask him to do whatever he could to find Paige, then call 911 and let the cops know she was ready to come in.

  In many ways, it was a relief that journey’s end was near. The stress of the last four days had been so much that it had only been a matter of time before she hit burnout, and she knew she was hitting it now.

  But fate, it seems, has a way of delivering the most left-field blows, because she’d only been driving for about twenty minutes when she heard an unfamiliar ringing sound.

  And the
n she realized it wasn’t unfamiliar. It was the ringtone of the cellphone that the kidnappers had left for them four days earlier.

  Brook was on a quiet stretch of road surrounded by fields and she pulled over and hurriedly took the cell from her purse. The words ‘No caller ID’ appeared on the screen.

  She fumbled in the purse for the tape-recorder she’d borrowed from Angie, trying to remember where the hell it was. She had to record this call, so people would know she wasn’t making up the whole thing.

  The cell rang a third time, then a fourth as she rifled through the purse. She couldn’t let it go to message. They might never call back.

  And then she saw the tape-recorder in an inside pocket. As the cell rang for a fifth time, she powered it up and switched the cell to loudspeaker.

  ‘We can see you,’ said the man on the other end of the line.

  38

  ‘Where’s my daughter?’ demanded Brook.

  ‘She’s safe,’ said the man. He had a Californian accent and sounded white. Twenties or thirties. Very likely the man Logan had been speaking to before he was killed.

  Brook took a deep breath, concentrating on remaining focused. She was certain he couldn’t see her. He was bluffing to throw her off guard. ‘You were given the ransom you asked for. So why haven’t you given her back?’

  ‘We wanted to make sure you hadn’t involved the police.’

  In spite of herself, Brook was filled with hope. Nothing else mattered, if she could just get Paige back. There were a hundred questions she needed to ask, but in the end she settled for the most important one. ‘When can I see her?’

  ‘Tonight. How much money do you have in cash?’

  ‘Six thousand dollars. That’s it.’

  ‘It’s not enough, if you want to see your daughter again.’

  ‘You must have seen the news. I’m on the run, for Christ’s sakes. I can’t get hold of any more money. Look, I’ll give you six thousand cash, plus I’ve got a diamond wedding ring and a diamond necklace, which are worth at least ten thousand together. You can have them, too. But you’ve got to let me have Paige back.’

  There was a pause. ‘All right. Six thousand dollars, with the ring and the necklace. Come to the place where you and your husband came before. The nursery. Be there at midnight. I’ll be there with Paige.’

  Brook swallowed. ‘Why should I trust you? The last time I came to the nursery you took the ransom money and murdered my husband.’

  ‘Your husband was a fool. He tried to rip us off.’

  Brook remembered the way Logan had punched her. If she’d fallen on her head, the blow could have killed her. Had he really been trying to double-cross the kidnappers?

  ‘My husband might have been a fool, but I’m not. I need proof that Paige is still alive. I want a photo of her that you can prove was taken today. And don’t try to doctor it.’

  ‘I’m offering you your kid back,’ the man snapped. ‘Don’t start setting conditions.’

  Brook couldn’t be seen to be weak. ‘You want me there tonight with the money and the jewellery, then you need to send me a photo. Otherwise there’s no deal.’

  ‘This is what happens when you threaten me,’ he said and abruptly ended the call.

  Brook sat staring at the phone, willing him to call back.

  Five minutes passed. Then ten. No one called. She wondered if he was trying to get hold of a photo.

  But as the minutes passed, it slowly dawned on her that she’d probably nixed the best chance she had of getting Paige back. She’d overplayed her hand.

  She was suddenly filled with a terrible impotent rage. She screamed out loud, filling the car with noise, and threw the phone across the car. And as the stress of the past four days finally overwhelmed her, she put her head in her hands and let the tears come, no longer caring how she looked to anyone who might be driving past. It was over. All of it.

  The buzz of the cellphone receiving a text brought her back to reality.

  She took a handkerchief from her bag and used it to wipe the tears away, before reaching down to pick the cell off the floor. The screen was filled with an image of a little girl in a pretty white dress, standing on a patch of lawn with pine trees in the background, looking down at a bright-pink soccer ball on the grass. It had obviously been taken from a distance and the girl was unaware of the cameraman’s presence. As Brook zoomed in, she saw that the girl was indeed Paige, and that the dress, like the pink sandals she was wearing, was unfamiliar. As she zoomed back out, she saw a date and time stamp in the top right-hand corner: 05/06/18 14.26. The photo had been taken barely an hour ago.

  A wave of relief washed over her, and she smiled for the first time in what felt like months. Paige was alive and well. She looked reasonably happy and well cared for. Clothes had been bought for her. So had toys. They all looked new. It meant that whoever had abducted her didn’t mean her any harm. But it suggested something else, too.

  That the people who had her might not want to give her back.

  The cellphone rang again, interrupting Brook’s thoughts. She picked it up straight away, almost dropping it in the process.

  ‘That’s the best photo you’re going to get,’ said the man. ‘Now the instructions remain: be at the nursery at midnight. Come alone or the whole thing’s off. Understand?’

  ‘Okay, but answer me this. If you’re serious about giving Paige back to me, why did you set fire to my house? Because it looked like you were doing it to frame me.’

  ‘Well, that’s the thing,’ the man said. ‘I didn’t set it.’

  And with that, he ended the call, leaving Brook staring at the phone.

  39

  Lou McPherson leaned back in the driver’s seat of his pickup and smiled. Brook Connor had fallen for the ruse, like he knew she would. It had taken a long time to get that photo. Three hours in all, sitting in undergrowth, watching the house where he knew they were keeping the kid, waiting for them to appear outside, knowing that this photo would be his meal ticket. And then, just as he’d been beginning to think he might have to think of something else, the back door had opened and out they’d come.

  He’d already got the photo when he’d first called Connor, but he knew enough about women not to give them what they want immediately. Treat them rough. Get them begging. Then cut them a little slack, so they think you care. It was like fishing: you throw out your line, tantalize them with the bait. And then reel them in, ready to devour.

  The fact that his actions had ruined Brook Connor’s life didn’t overly bother McPherson. Connor had never given a shit about people like him. She’d profited from her parents’ death, peddling a load of New Age shit to gullible rich people and housewives on antidepressants, made a heap of money and lived her perfect little life in her big house with her perfect family, like nothing else in the world mattered. She’d got what was coming to her, although he had to admire the way she’d turned up at the house of Tony Reyes and shot his wife in front of him. That took some cajones. And Connor was pretty hot, too. Under different circumstances, he’d have enjoyed fucking her. But this was business.

  The number of the police hotline was on the seat next to him and he punched the digits into the burner phone he’d just used to call Connor. It rang for a while before it was answered, but that didn’t surprise McPherson. He imagined there were plenty of people calling today.

  ‘US Marshals Service, how can I help?’ said the guy on the other end.

  McPherson suddenly felt nervous. ‘The hundred-thousand-dollar reward for information leading to the arrest of Brook Connor, how long would I have to wait for it?’

  ‘Do you have information, sir?’

  ‘I do. But I need to know I’m going to get that money. And I need it in cash. Is that possible?’

  ‘Yes, it’s possible to give you the reward in cash, if your information’s correct. It would take several days, though.’

  McPherson needed it sooner than that. But he also knew not to push things. ‘And
can it be paid anonymously, so only you guys – the Marshals Service – know about it?’

  ‘Yes, it can. So do you know where she is, sir?’

  ‘Not right now. But I can tell you exactly where she’ll be at midnight tonight.’

  40

  It had been another day of doing all the low-profile legwork that the marshals weren’t interested in for Giant and the rest of his small team of detectives.

  And now, at 6.30 p.m., things suddenly got interesting again. He and Jenna were sitting across the desk from Dr Gary Wallace, the county pathologist, who had just completed the autopsy on Maria Reyes. Wallace gave them one of his cheery smiles, knitted his unfeasibly thick eyebrows and stroked his chin, as he looked at the blown-up autopsy photos of Maria Reyes.

  ‘If I was a betting man, I’d say the victim here – Maria Reyes – shot herself. Everything points to that. The gun was probably a nine-millimetre pistol or revolver.’

  ‘There were nine-millimetre shells found at the scene,’ Giant told him. ‘They matched a shell found at Brook Connor’s house, so it was probably Connor’s gun that was used.’

  ‘Interesting. The shot went into the temple at point-blank range – you can see that from the burn mark there,’ and he tapped his finger on one of the photos and passed it over to them. Jenna had a good look. Giant gave it a cursory glance. ‘And the angle of the bullet was slightly upwards, which almost always suggests suicide. What really gives it away, though, is the fact that the victim has traces of powder residue from unburned carbon on her left hand, which means that hand was holding the gun when it was fired; and that would tally with the fact that the bullet entered her left temple.’

  Giant and Jenna exchanged looks. Neither of them had been expecting this. ‘And is there are no other explanation for how that residue ended up there?’ Jenna asked him.

  The doc shook his head. ‘None that I can think of.’

  Jenna raised her eyebrows. ‘That doesn’t tally with Mrs Reyes’s husband’s account of what happened.’