by Amy Cross
“Diana...”
“We have to get out of here!” she continued, looking down at the sleeping baby in her arms. “Herbert, if I hadn't stopped them, they would have taken Rachel and we'd have ended up receiving a ransom note. They'll try again, you know! Just because they failed this time, they won't give up and target someone else. Our house is probably being watched! We have to pack up and leave immediately, and we need a security team to watch us and -”
“For God's sake...”
“I'm serious!”
“I know you are,” he said with a sigh, “and that's what worries me the most. Do you really think there are people lurking out there, getting ready to snatch Rachel? You're being paranoid, Diana. This is just an extension of all the trouble you caused during the pregnancy and -”
“Don't you dare say that!” she snapped, getting to her feet. Poised to add something else, she instead held back and looked down at the sleeping baby. “I don't want her to hear us arguing, Herbert. I just want you to recognize that we're in danger.” She looked at him again. “Please, just listen to me for once. Someone tried to snatch our daughter, and it's a miracle they didn't succeed. We can't count on there being another miracle. We're a sitting target here, we have to get out of this place!”
“And why would the kidnapper get all the way to the fence, only to leave Rachel behind?” he asked.
“I don't know. Maybe he got spooked!”
“By the sight of a hysterical woman running after him?” He smirked. “I hardly think so.”
“The coward bolted, Herbert, but he'll be back!”
“We're not going anywhere,” he continued. “Do you understand? This family is not going to be ruled by your rampant delusions. Our entire financial future is rooted in this house and this estate. My family has been here for generations, and we shall continue to be here for many generations to come. And Rachel will one day take over both the land and the business. She'll always be safe here. Now let me hold her.”
“But Herbert...”
“Let me hold her, Diana.”
Diana hesitated, before slowly starting to offer the sleeping baby up to him. Needing no further encouragement, Herbert took Rachel from her mother's arms and looked at her face, smiling as he saw that she was resting.
“You're the future of this family, Rachel,” he continued, ignoring the fact that his wife was quietly weeping on the sofa. “One day you're going to take control of everything. One day, you'll have everything I have, and our family's future will be assured. Just make sure that you're more like me, and less like your mother, and you'll be fine.”
***
“She's losing her bloody mind,” he muttered a while later, as he sat in his office with his phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “I'm starting to think I should have sent her to that hospital after all. Maybe they'd have fixed her by now.”
He paused for a moment, staring at his cigarette.
“Or maybe she's a hopeless case,” he added finally. “I rather fear there's nothing anyone can do. Her mind is just too weak.”
“You make her sound like a faulty appliance,” his brother Jack replied over the phone. “Are you sure it's not possible that she really -”
“No.”
“But if -”
“No, Jack! There was no kidnap attempt. The whole idea is preposterous.”
“But these things do happen from time to time,” Jack continued. “I know it's awful to think about, but there are some desperate people out there. If Diana hadn't stopped them, maybe you'd be getting slices of Rachel's ear in the mail by now.”
“Don't talk rot.”
“Diana's not crazy, you know. She's highly-strung, but anyone would be if they had to live at that place with you. No offense, Herb, but it's an awfully big house for the pair of you to be rattling about with only a baby for company. Maybe -”
“Margaret is not moving in,” Herbert said firmly.
“I didn't mention Margaret.”
“But you've been talking to her, haven't you?” He took a drag on his cigarette and paused to exhale, while looking out the window and watching the sun-dappled lawn. “Don't even bother to deny it. I know she wants to move in here, but that's the last bloody thing I can handle right now. She spends enough time here as it is. I actually value my -”
Stopping suddenly, he squinted as he peered out the window. In the distance, over by the trees a couple of hundred meters from the house, a figure could just about be made out lurking in the shadows. A moment later a brief flash of light glinted, then glinted again, like a crude attempt at a signal. Somebody was trying to get his attention.
“I'll call you back,” Herbert said sharply, already getting to his feet and lowering the phone.
“But -”
After cutting the call, he made his way through to the drawing room and then to the hallway, where he hesitated for a moment and listened until he was certain he could hear no hint that Diana had risen from her nap. Then, after pausing to light another cigarette, he hurried out onto the patio and began to walk briskly across the lawn, while repeatedly glancing over his shoulder as if he was worried about being spotted. Up ahead, the light occasionally glinted again, and Herbert quickened his pace while still looking back toward the house.
There was nobody at any of the windows.
By the time he reached the shade of the tree-line, he was starting to slow his pace again, and he came to a halt just as a scruffy-looking man stepped out from behind one of the trees, wearing a torn raincoat.
“Afternoon, Mr. Stone,” the man said with a faint smile. “You couldn't spare one of those fags, could you?”
“Get your own bloody cigarettes,” Herbert snapped, once again checking over his shoulder before turning back to the man. “What the hell are you up to, Mac? My wife's a blithering buffoon at the best of times, and right now she's still slowed down by the caesarian scar. How in the name of all that's holy did you not manage to outrun her?”
“The pram's wheels got caught on a -”
“I don't want to hear excuses! You were supposed to get the baby out of sight! Then again, maybe it's my fault for assuming you could carry out the most basic of instructions.”
He paused to take another drag on his cigarette, before blowing the smoke out. A moment later, Mac stepped closer and took a deep breath, trying to get a good lungful.
“You're pathetic,” Herbert added.
“I was worried she might see me!”
“She wouldn't have recognized you.”
“She's seen me before, back when I used to work on the estate.”
“She might have seen you, but she still wouldn't remember you. You were just one of the dogsbodies.”
“Cheers.” Mac rolled his eyes. “It might've been a complication. Relax, I'll just try again another time, okay? It's not like you needed the kid gone today, is it?”
“My wife wants to leave and go somewhere safer.”
“You're not gonna let her, are you?”
“Of course not!” he spat back with contempt. “Now listen to me, you little runt. I've laid the groundwork for this, and I've paid you handsomely for your part in it. All you have to do is take the baby and run. Get out of sight and keep your head down until you receive the all-clear from me. I just need the baby to be gone for a few weeks, while I work on getting Diana to...” He hesitated for a moment. “Well, like I said before, you don't need to know any of that. Your part has been explained to you more than adequately. Do you think you might manage to do what you're told this time?”
“I'll do it tomorrow.”
“My wife will likely be extra-protective now. She won't let the baby out of her sight.”
“So I'll come up with another way.”
“Such as?”
“Such as, never you mind. You're paying me to get this done, but that doesn't mean you need to know exactly how I do it.” He paused. “How would you feel if your wife... Well, this is a delicate subject, but would you be to
tally opposed to the idea that she might get a whack on the head? Not a big one, mind. Just enough to knock her out or stun her.”
“Whatever. I don't care. As long as you get the baby away from her, and then wait for my call. The cabin's ready, isn't it?”
“The cabin's fine. I'll have the kid up there tomorrow evening. Just don't wait too long to let me know I can bring her back, okay? I'm not a big fan of kids. They always cry too much. And I'm not changing nappies, either. If she pees or poos herself, she can just sit in it 'til I get her back to you. Got it?”
“I won't need long,” he replied, glancing back toward the house. “Everything's ready. Once Rachel is gone, I can start putting this whole mess right.”
Chapter Five
Today
“This is dumb,” Jo muttered as she climbed out of her car and slammed the door shut. “This might just be the dumbest thing I've ever done in my life.”
It was almost 10pm, and she'd parked at the side of a remote country lane that ran from the nearby town of Landsley and meandered through the countryside for a couple of miles before passing the Stone estate. She'd chosen a parking spot just a couple of hundred meters from the main gate, hoping to avoid getting spotted, and she knew that there were cameras all over the gate itself. The air was cold and the forecast had suggested rain might come, but she figured she should at least check the place out.
Still, a plan that had made sense in her noisy, cramped room at the pub suddenly seemed far less smart now she was squelching through mud at the side of the road, and by the time she reached a spot opposite the main gate she was starting to seriously regret her decision.
In the distance, far beyond the gate, the lights of the manor house could just about be seen. One of those lights, she figured, was in a room where Rachel Stone was living. Or rather, the girl who claimed to be Rachel Stone. So far, Jo hadn't seen any evidence to either prove or disprove the idea that the long-lost child had returned, although deep down she had some serious doubts. If Rachel had returned, her story would be something of a miracle, and in Jo's experience miracles were all too rare.
“I need to get in there,” she whispered to herself, although she couldn't think of any way she might talk her way through the gate. “I need -”
Stopping suddenly, she looked along the dark road and listened to a very faint, very distant crying sound that seemed to be rising above the rustling tree-tops. She stayed completely still, telling herself that there was no way she was hearing a crying baby, but after a moment she realized that this was, in fact, exactly what the noise sounded like. In fact, the more she listened, the more certain she felt that she was definitely hearing a child's cries, and she immediately thought back to the outlandish claims made earlier by the man in the pub.
“Good job I don't believe in ghosts, then,” she reminded herself, before stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets and starting to walk along the road, heading in the direction of the cries.
The closer she got, however, the more certain she felt that she was indeed hearing a crying child. She knew from her conversation with Bradley Botham that the Stones had never had any other children, and that there was no way a baby should be in the house, let alone in the grounds. At the same time, as she slowed her pace and focused on picking out the cries above the sound of windswept trees, she realized there could be no mistake.
A baby really was crying somewhere on the other side of the white wall.
“That's not creepy at all,” she muttered, before taking a moment to remind herself that she really didn't believe in ghosts. In fact, the whole story she'd heard in the pub earlier had seemed absurdly melodramatic. She couldn't shake a feeling of being slightly spooked, however, as she made her way across the road and stopped next to the tall, battered white wall that ran all the way around the perimeter of the Stone estate.
And still the cry continued.
It was almost as if there was a ghost just on the wall's other side, just beyond the white bricks.
For a moment, she considered trying to climb over the wall, before realizing that she really needed to play by the rules. Besides, she could just about see moonlight glinting against glass shards that had been stuck to the top of the wall, so she figured her efforts would be in vain and that she'd simply be left with torn hands. Wandering a little further along the side of the road, she continued to look up at the top of the wall, still listening to the sound of the child's cries, still trying to come up with a more likely explanation. Somehow, 'ghost baby' didn't seem to fit.
Suddenly she bumped hard against something, and she turned to see that a black car had been parked at the side of the road. There was no sign of anyone in the driver's seat, but the car had been left under a large tree, as if the driver had taken extra precautions to ensure that he wouldn't be spotted.
“I guess I'm not the only one who's interested in this house,” she whispered, making a note of the car's registration number before continuing her walk. She glanced around to make sure no-one was watching, but there was no sign of anyone until she finally reached the corner of the wall and looked around, at which point she spotted the ungainly sight of a silhouetted figure struggling and failing to climb up the wall.
Furrowing her brow, she watched the figure for a couple of minutes, and now she could hear a series of muttered curses as the man – she thought it was a man, anyway – tried again and again to climb up and find a way over the wall.
Finally, figuring that she needed to know who else was interested in the Stone family, she cleared her throat.
Immediately, the man stopped what he was doing and turned to her.
“Hi,” she said, trying to stay calm, “my name's -”
Before she could finish, the man turned and bolted, racing away into the darkness. She set off after him, but he was far too fast and by the time she reached the tree-line she had to admit defeat. She stopped, feeling breathless, but the man was long gone now and she knew there was no point trying to pursue him through a pitch-black forest.
Besides, she'd already figured out a better way to catch him.
***
It took a couple of hours, but finally her plan worked.
Sitting at the side of the road, near the house's main gate, she heard footsteps in the distance, as if someone was trampling through the dark forest. She stayed still and quiet, to make sure she wouldn't scare him off, and a few minutes later she spotted a dark shape struggling to clamber past a set of gorse bushes. A moment later the black car's headlights flashed and Jo heard the doors unlocking, and she got to her feet just as the silhouetted figure reached the other side and grabbed the handle.
“I got your registration number,” she said.
The figure gasped and turned to her, but at least this time he didn't run.
Holding her phone up, Jo used the light to pick out the man's face, and she saw that he was a younger guy, maybe only in his late twenties or – at most – his early thirties.
“You're not a cop,” she pointed out, “and I don't think you're a member of the Stone family, so...”
“What it to you?” he asked, with a noticeable Kentish accent.
She tilted the phone down and saw that he had several cuts on his hands.
“Did you get over?” she asked.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“You're a reporter, aren't you?” She tilted the phone back up, although she lowered it again when he covered his eyes. “Sorry. I didn't mean to blind you. I just happened to see you trying to climb over the wall earlier and, well, that kind of caught my interest. Did you make it?”
He hesitated for a moment. “No,” he said finally. “As it happens, I didn't. They've got that anti-slip paint.”
“Someone mentioned that a reporter was nosing around,” she continued. “I know the Stone family gets back into the news every few years, but this seems a little desperate.”
“Are you one of the Stones?”
She shook her head.
“Then what are you doing out here?”
“I asked first.”
“Yeah, but...” His voice trailed off for a few seconds. “Who do you work for?”
“What do you mean?”
“Which paper?” He sighed, before turning and kicking the side of his car. “Damn it, I should've known someone else'd get onto this. All I wanted was one exclusive. Just one. I could've really made my name and forced the others to sit up and notice me, it might even have been my ticket to London. Instead I get all the way down here and find some woman's onto the same scoop.” He sighed again, before glancing at her with a hint of suspicion. “Who told you?”
“Who told me what?”
“Don't play dumb with me. Who leaked it to you?”
“I don't -”
“Who told you Rachel was back?”
Jo hesitated for a moment, as she began to realize that the guy seemed to know something that might be useful. She tried to figure out what to say next, before holding her hand out.
“Jo Mason.”
“Nick Cotterall,” he replied cautiously, shaking her hand. “So come on, then. Which paper do you work for? Or is it a website? Please, don't tell me you're a blogger.”
“Actually, I'm a private detective. I've been hired to look into a case involving the Stone family.”
“The Stones hired you?”
“Not exactly.” She paused. “You mentioned Rachel Stone just now. How did you hear the news?”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” he replied unconvincingly. “I'm just out for a late-night walk, just clearing my head after a long day. That's not a crime, is it?” Turning, he opened the car door. “I've never heard of the -”
“You know about Rachel, don't you?” she continued.
He froze for a moment, before turning to her again.
“You know she's back,” she added, “or at least that someone claiming to be her has shown up. Relax, I know too. But I was told by a friend of the family, and as far as I know the news has been kept from everyone else. So why don't you start by telling me how you heard? And then we can go from there.”