“That’s what Jen said.”
Elly was sure that wasn’t what Jen had actually said at all but was, in fact, what her mother thought.
“She said they’ve sent you there to look for a serial killer who doesn’t exist,” her mum continued. “It all sounds very odd to me.”
“It isn’t odd, Mum, it’s a job.” Elly opened the case and took out the folder Glenister had given her as well as a large-scale map of the area with Edge House, the house where Michael Walker had lived, circled in black pen.
“Elly, are you sure you’re doing the right thing? Now that Paul’s left you, you shouldn’t be gallivanting around the country. You need to stay close to home, find someone else, someone who might put a ring on your finger.”
Now that Paul has left you. Wow, her mum really wasn’t pulling her punches today. Never mind being tactful and saying something like, “Now that you and Paul have split up.” Nope, Mum just jumped in there with both feet. She probably thought Paul was a hero for putting up with Elly for so long.
“I need to work, Mum. Now that Paul has gone, I only have my own income to live on.” She got her camera out of the case and placed it on the table next to the map. Digging under a pile of jumpers, she found her notebooks and pens and dumped them on the table too.
“Well, that’s exactly what I mean,” her mum said. “You find the right man and he’ll look after you for the rest of your life. You won’t need to go chasing imaginary serial killers. Somewhere out there, there’s a right man for every woman. There’s even one for you.”
“He’s probably as imaginary as the serial killer,” Elly said.
There was an exasperated sigh on the other end of the line. “Your father and I are worried about you. What if this serial killer isn’t imaginary? What if he goes after you because you’re looking for him? It happens, you know. I’ve seen Luther and Midsomer Murders, I know how these things work.”
Now it was Elly’s turn to sigh. “This isn’t a television show and the man I’m investigating is dead, so I think I’m quite safe.”
“Dead? Why are you investigating a dead man?”
“It’s a long story. I’ve got to go, Mum. I got soaked by the rain and I need to take a bath. I’ll call you sometime in the week. Give my love to Dad.”
“Well, just make sure you do call. And remember, men don’t like women who are too adventurous. Perhaps when you get back home you’ll settle down a bit.”
Elly ended the call and put the phone on the table. The calm she’d felt outside in the rain was shattered. Now, she felt as if her nerves might snap. Taking a deep breath, she told herself that her mum meant well. There was no point stewing over it. And she really did need to take a bath. Her clothes were sticking to her skin, making her feel cold and clammy.
She closed the suitcase and took it upstairs, where she chose a bedroom for herself. It was smaller than the master bedroom but where the master was at the front of the cottage and looked out over the road, the one Elly chose was at the rear and overlooked the moors and the hills. She put the case on the bed and took out her pyjamas, which consisted of plain white cotton bottoms and a top that had a red heart on the left breast.
She took them into the bathroom where a large corner tub waited. “Just what the doctor ordered,” Elly murmured to herself as she turned on the hot tap. There was a bottle of lemonade-scented bubble bath on the windowsill so she added some to the water and undressed while the bubbles frothed up, filling the bathroom with a sweet citrus scent.
When the tub was full, Elly got in and sank into the hot water, closing her eyes and letting her mind drift.
Ten years ago, she’d taken meditation classes at the local community centre, thinking they would help her control her emotions. She knew she had a tendency to fly off the handle at times and it was something she wanted to work on. The classes had done nothing for her and she’d spent the hour during which she was supposed to be “watching her breath” thinking about problems at work, worrying about problems in her personal life, opening her eyes and checking the clock on the wall, wondering if the other students in the class were really just pretending to be peaceful of if their minds were whirling too, and contemplating whether she should stop at the chip shop on the way home or order pizza.
The calm that she’d longed to experience (and that was something that the teacher would have frowned at because they weren’t supposed to long for anything during that hour and were supposed to “leave desire at the door”) had eluded her. But at this moment, lying in a bath in a cottage in the middle of nowhere with a storm raging outside and rain cascading against the windows, she felt calmer than she’d ever felt in her life.
Maybe reaching rock bottom made her appreciate the beauty in simple things. Declining book sales, Paul’s departure, and an uncertain future had pushed her life into a downward spiral and it was only now that she understood the allure of a stormy landscape that she wouldn’t normally have noticed and appreciated being isolated from the rest of the world in a way that was not lonely and sad but energising and peaceful.
Despite everything, she felt suddenly optimistic about the task ahead of her. If Michael Walker was a murderer, then she would prove it. If it turned out he wasn’t, she would investigate further until she found the truth.
What if Michael Walker was innocent and the real killer was still out there somewhere? She might be on the brink of something huge here. She could actually bring a murderer to justice.
Her phone rang downstairs, bringing Elly out of her reverie. She waited for the ringing to stop, for the call to go to voicemail, so she could relax again.
But the moment was gone. And the calmness she’d experienced was gone too, replaced by a burning enthusiasm to pore over the articles in the folder Glenister had given her. She reached for the plug in the tub and pulled it. While the water was draining away, she got out and dried herself quickly before slipping into the pyjamas.
She padded downstairs and opened the folder.
A loud pounding shook the front door and Elly nearly jumped out of her skin. She shrank back, her heart in her mouth. Then the windows rattled in their frames and she realised the cottage was being rocked by a clap of thunder.
She looked out at the rain-swept road in front of Windrider Cottage. Her Mini looked small and insignificant parked out there.
The thought she’d had in the bath returned. What if the amateur sleuth at Wollstonecraft Publishing was wrong and Michael Walker was innocent? That meant there was a killer on the loose in this area. He could be anywhere, maybe even out in this storm, looking for his next victim.
Shivering, she returned to the table and spread the newspaper articles out. The names of the lost girls stared up at her. Josie Wagner. Sarah Walker. Lindsey Grofield.
Elly touched each name in turn. Three girls separated by time but possibly connected by fate.
“I promise I’ll find out what happened to you,” she whispered.
8
The Vault
On Saturday morning, after eating a fried breakfast at the Premier Inn they’d spent the night in, Mitch and Leigh walked across the car park to the Jeep. They were dressed in hiking gear and Mitch had a rucksack slung over his shoulder. The storm had blown itself out during the night and now the sky was bright blue with a few white clouds dotted here and there. Mitch had packed their waterproof jackets into the rucksack but he was hoping they wouldn’t need them.
“Listen,” he said as he opened the boot and slung the rucksack and his walking boots inside, “before we go walking, we need to go to Matlock again and pop into the bank. I need to close the account for the safe deposit box.”
He felt a little guilty that this weekend, which was supposed to be about spending time with Leigh, was becoming more about wrapping up his father’s business.
“You know what?” he said, getting into the Jeep. “Forget I just said that. Let’s go hiking. I’ll deal with the bank next week.” He could come back on his own on Monday an
d sort the account out, after Leigh had gone home.
“Oh, okay,” Leigh said, looking disappointed.
“What’s the matter? I thought you wanted to go hiking?”
“I do but I want to know what’s in the box too. Maybe it’s full of diamonds or something.”
“Maybe it is,” he said. He couldn’t discount the possibility. “Shall we go and have a look then?”
Leigh nodded. “We can go walking after. Maybe we’ll have a rucksack full of diamonds.”
“That sounds like it’d be heavy,” Mitch said.
“I’d carry it,” she offered.
He laughed. “Yeah, I bet you would. Okay, let’s go and see what’s in the box. I need to get a new tyre anyway if we’re going to be driving into the wilder parts of the Peak District.”
They arrived in Matlock half an hour later and Mitch managed to find a garage that specialised in tyres and exhausts. He left the Jeep there so the mechanics could fit a new tyre to replace the one that had been slashed and put the spare back in the boot where it belonged.
Taking the rucksack, in case the safe deposit box really did contain something that was heavy, he and Leigh walked into town. They found the main street easily and entered the bank. It was busy with customers, which Mitch expected was the usual for a Saturday morning. When he explained to a teller who he was, she went to fetch the manager.
Less than a minute later, a blonde woman in a dark blue jacket and skirt appeared from a back room and walked over to Mitch. “Hi, Mitch” she said, smiling. “It’s great to see you again. How are you?” She spotted Leigh and crouched down to face her. “And who is this young lady?”
“I’m Leigh.”
“That’s a nice name. I’m Tilly. I’m your dad’s cousin.”
“Are you?” Leigh asked, wide-eyed and surprised.
“Yes,” Mitch said, recognising Tilly as she stood up again. “Yes, she is.” He hadn’t seen her since they were both nine years old but her features hadn’t changed all that much. The years had been kind to her. He remembered Sarah once joking that he was in love with Tilly but the truth was, he had respected her because she was tough and adventurous. He wondered if she still had that streak of daring within her or if it was something the years had changed.
“Come through to my office,” Tilly said. “We can catch up while we deal with your dad’s account.” She led them through a door that revealed a number of glass-walled offices where advisors spoke to customers. Tilly walked past these offices to a door at the end of the corridor that bore her name: Tilly Walker. Mitch wondered why she’d never married. Or maybe was divorced and using her maiden name.
“So how are things?” Tilly asked as she ushered them into the office. “What have you been up to?”
“I’ve been running a landscape gardening business,” Mitch said. “It looks like you’ve done all right for yourself. Bank manager. Impressive.”
She grinned. “Remember when we were young, though? I always said I wanted to be an explorer and travel to uncharted lands. Things didn’t exactly turn out that way.”
Mitch had a sudden flash of life before Sarah’s disappearance. He and Tilly had spent a lot of time together, along with their younger siblings Jack and Sarah, exploring the woods and fields around Edge House and the house where Tilly and Jack lived. That house’s name eluded him for a moment then sprang into his mind. Blackmoor House.
“How is Jack?” he asked.
Tilly’s face darkened. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t exactly been in touch with my family for a while. I saw them at your dad’s funeral, of course, but we didn’t speak.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” The truth was, he hadn’t meant to pry. He remembered Jack as a little shit and had only asked about him out of politeness.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Tilly said, her face brightening again. “Look, we should get together sometime and have a good chat. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” She took a business card from a clear plastic holder on the desk and scribbled something on it in pen. She handed it to Mitch. “That’s my personal number. Give me a ring and we’ll get together sometime.”
“Sure.” Mitch tucked the card into his wallet. He didn’t mention that after this weekend, he didn’t plan to ever be in this area again.
“These are the documents you need to sign and then I can release the contents of your dad’s safe deposit box to you,” Tilly said, sliding papers across the desk to Mitch. “His is the last box we’ve got at this branch. We only let him keep it because he was one of our best customers.” Sadness showed in her eyes and she cleared her throat, clearly holding back tears.
“I’m sorry,” Mitch said, “it must have been a shock when he died.” It seemed strange that his cousin was more affected by his father’s death than he was but she’d known Michael for the past thirty years while Mitch had been gradually forgetting all about him.
“I saw him just two days before,” she said. “He came in to put something in the box, actually. He sat right where you’re sitting now, holding a manila envelope he was going to take to the box, and he chatted about the weather as if it was any other day, you know? He had no idea that in two days’ time, he would be gone forever.” She opened the desk drawer and took out a box of tissues. Dabbing her eyes, she said, “I’m sorry, Mitch.”
“No need to apologise,” he said as he signed the papers. He looked over at Leigh, who was staring at Tilly with a look of sadness in her own eyes. Mitch touched her arm, drawing her attention. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said.
Leigh smiled thinly, making Mitch again wish he’d left all of this business regarding his father until next week, when Leigh could be left out of it. He’d planned to visit Mercer and Robinson to drop off the keys after picking up the Jeep but now he decided to come back on Monday to do that. Even though it meant driving back to Leamington Spa tomorrow and then back to Matlock the day after, he’d gladly do that to spare Leigh getting involved in any more of this mess.
The sooner Edge House was sold and he could put all this behind him, the better.
“Right,” Tilly said, getting up and smoothing her skirt with her hands. “I’ll take you to the box.”
They followed her out of the office and through a door protected with a digital combination, then down a flight of stairs to another door, this one made of steel and also locked with a combination lock as well as a key. Tilly opened the door and turned on the lights in the room beyond. The room was small, with a table at its centre and numbered, locked steel doors lining the walls. Each door had two locks. The overhead light was too bright for such a small room and cast everything in a stark whiteness. The fluorescent tube buzzed and flickered.
“We have one key and the customer has the other,” Tilly explained, lifting a set of keys and selecting one. She went to box 208 and inserted the key into one of the locks, unlocking it before saying, “I’ll leave you to it,” and leaving the room. She closed the door behind her.
“Open it, Dad,” Leigh prompted.
Mitch unlocked the steel door and removed the metal box inside, placing it on the table in the middle of the room. He opened the lid and looked inside.
“Is that it?’ Leigh asked, disappointed.
Inside the box was a single, fat, manila envelope. Mitch reached in and took it out. At first, he thought the envelope contained cash, a stack of notes maybe, but the longer he held it, the more it felt as if there was a book inside.
“Maybe we were a bit optimistic when we said it might be a box full of diamonds,” he told Leigh.
She shrugged. “Maybe it’s a treasure map.”
“I don’t think so,” Mitch said, opening the envelope and looking inside. “It looks like some sort of journal.” He slid the book out onto the table. It was thick, bound in black leather, and wrapped with a long, black leather cord.
He unwrapped the cord and flicked through the pages. They were filled with handwriting in black pen and pencil sketches of places and people. “Loo
ks like some sort of journal,” he said.
”What does it say?”
He held it up so she could see the thickness of it. “I don’t know. There must be hundreds of pages here. It’d take a long time to read it.”
She held out her hand. “Let me have a look at it.”
“No, we’re going hiking. We don’t need to concern ourselves with this, okay? We’re supposed to be trudging over those hills, not reading old diaries in bank vaults. Come on.” He slipped the journal into the rucksack beneath his waterproof jacket and knocked on the door.
Tilly opened it. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” Mitch told her. “Leigh and I are going hiking now.”
“Great,” she said, leading them back up the stairs. “Have a nice time. And be sure to give me a ring so we can catch up.”
“Of course,” Mitch said. Tilly seemed to genuinely want to hear from him so he decided that he’d call her when he came back on Monday. He couldn’t see any harm in having a drink with her and reminiscing about their childhoods. Maybe such a conversation would shake loose some of the memories that seemed to be stuck in an uncharted part of his brain where his recall was forbidden to travel.
When he and Leigh got outside, she turned to him and said, “Dad, is Tilly really your cousin?”
“Yes, she is.”
“Does that mean she’s my aunt?”
“No, not exactly.”
“Oh,” Leigh said as they walked back along the main street towards the garage. “Well, anyway, I like her. She’s nice.”
“I’m sure she is.”
They arrived at the garage. The Jeep was sitting in one of the parking bays, sporting a brand-new tyre.
“Okay,” Mitch said, “let’s go inside and pay and then we can get onto those hills.” He made a mental note to himself to keep the focus of the rest of the weekend on Leigh. There was no need to waste any more time talking about ancient history.
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