Close Your Eyes

by Rachel Abbott

  ‘Then I’m guilty too,’ I said softly.

  Leah pushed herself up onto her knees, turning to face me. ‘No, India. You are not responsible. You’ve known no other life since you were ten, and you have no way of knowing what’s right and wrong. You’ve been indoctrinated by that man. I would do anything to get you out of here, to persuade you to leave with me.’

  I stared at her. ‘Leave?’

  I’d said the word out loud for the first time, and it echoed around me as if I’d shouted it. I spun round to check there was no one within earshot.

  ‘Leave?’ This time I whispered the word, but it made me shiver – not with horror, but with hope. ‘How?’

  I couldn’t ask permission. Aram would rip me to shreds and convince me that the minute I walked through the gates the world would hurl its worst at me. The only option was to escape in secret, but the gates were always locked.

  ‘You mustn’t tell a soul, you understand that, don’t you? You can’t trust anyone – not even your parents. Especially not your mother.’

  She was right. Mum – Nicola – had never forgiven me for being Aram’s favourite, a role she’d considered to be hers for years. I had never wanted to attract his attention, and yet the nights when he wanted me in his bed gave me feelings of dread and anticipation in equal measure. My body responded to him, even though my mind wanted to reject him. He was both repulsive to me and thrilling.

  ‘If you’re coming with me,’ Leah said, breaking into my thoughts, ‘then I won’t tell Aram I’m leaving. It will complicate things because he’ll want to see me off the premises. I can’t do that if you’re with me. I’m leaving tomorrow night, so it’s up to you. I’ve worked out a way of getting out, hoping you’d come. If you decide it’s what you want, meet me by the river at two in the morning. But, India, he mustn’t know any of this. Can you keep it from him?’

  I looked at her and nodded slowly, not knowing if I believed it.

  ‘Listen to me,’ she said, both my hands in hers. ‘Aram gets inside your head. I’ve seen it a hundred times, and there’s only one thing you can do to stop him. Close your eyes. Don’t look at him. Then he can’t reach you.’

  With that, Leah leaned towards me and kissed me on the cheek, stood up and walked away. I watched her go, excitement pulsing through my veins, going over and over her words in my head as they became more jumbled and confused.

  As it turned out, she was right about everything. I should have done what she said. I should have closed my eyes.

  52

  Tom had only been in the incident room for five minutes when he sensed Keith standing by his shoulder, hopping from foot to foot with impatience. He had told the man twenty times that he was allowed to speak, but he said he always assumed Tom was too busy to be interrupted.

  ‘Yes, Keith.’

  ‘News, sir. Good news, I think. A receptionist at a hotel in central Manchester saw the Child Rescue Alert online, with the photos of Martha and Alfie Porter. She says the woman was barely recognisable, but she’s sure about the child.’

  Tom slapped the desk with the palms of his hands. ‘That’s excellent news. What else do we know?’

  ‘She paid for two nights, but she’d gone by the first morning. They don’t know if she even stayed overnight. She used a debit card, but it was in another name entirely – India Kalu – and she said the child was called Jamie.’

  ‘It’s no surprise she’s using another name. Let’s hope she uses the card again. We’ll get her now. Track the card – I presume the hotel has supplied the details?’

  ‘Yes, sir. We’ll get the financials as soon as we can.’

  Tom looked at his watch. It was still early. Damn it, they were going to have to wait. He gave a grunt of frustration.

  ‘Morning, boss,’ Becky said as she flung her bag under her desk and sat down. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘The good news is we have a new identity for the elusive Ms Porter. Bad news – we’ve got to wait to track her debit card. She has a lovely name, actually – India Kalu! Keith’s on the case. Keith, try to find out everything we can on the assumption this might be her original name, Martha Porter being the assumed one.’

  ‘Fantastic,’ Becky said, ‘although I do wish it was obligatory for people to register the details if they change their name. It would make our job a lot easier.’

  Tom had to agree. Had they known Martha Porter was also India Kalu, they might have caught up with her sooner.

  ‘It is what it is – and finally we’re on to her. Keith, as we’ve got a name now, let’s see if she has a driving licence, a passport – the usual checks.’

  Becky switched on her computer monitor. ‘While we’re waiting, I’ll take a look at the list of missing women they were working on overnight, but no one’s called me, so I can only assume nothing stood out.’

  As Becky finished speaking, her eyes flicked to something going on behind Tom, and he turned to follow her gaze.

  ‘Seems we’re getting a bit of excitement over there,’ she said, and both she and Tom got to their feet and hurried over to where Cass was pointing to something on her screen.

  ‘What have we got?’ Tom called as he strode across the office.

  ‘I’ve found something online,’ Cass said. ‘I did a search on India Kalu and came across a thread on social media – a group of people from a school in London who are getting together for some form of reunion.’

  ‘What does it say?’ Becky asked.

  ‘It seems these women – all late twenties now – went to primary school together. They’ve kept in touch. One of them posted a school photo from when they were about nine challenging anyone to name everybody in the picture. India Kalu is one of the names. Someone remembered her mum talking about the Kalus, saying there was something shady going on. India didn’t turn up to school one day, and the teacher told the other kids that the family had moved away. But there were all kinds of rumours flying around.’

  Tom leaned his hands on the desk beside Cass. ‘Where was the school?’

  ‘East London, sir.’

  ‘Cass, can you make a list of every scrap of info that you can glean from this, then we need to run a check on her parents. Good work.’ Tom could feel they were getting closer. ‘Becky, did you see Eddie Carlson and his wife?’

  ‘I did. It’s a sad story, actually. Turns out that Kirsten has leukaemia. Eddie says he meant to say something when I was there, but he knew she’d be uncomfortable about that and he wanted me to leave so he could be with her.’

  ‘And the bruises?’

  ‘She had a dizzy spell, and he caught her. He says she bruises at the slightest touch. I know it could all be lies, but Kirsten wasn’t there so I couldn’t check. He said she’s in a clinic getting treatment and I wasn’t about to go and interrogate her. Apparently after I left last time, Kirsten told Eddie she’d met up with Genevieve. She didn’t tell him sooner because she knew he’d be mad.’

  ‘And did Genevieve explain what she was up to?’

  ‘Kirsten asked what kind of game she thought she was playing, and although Eddie asked what she’d said, Kirsten told him he really didn’t want to know and assured him they wouldn’t be bothered again. He said he wasn’t interested enough to pursue it, but if it’s important he’ll ask her as soon as she’s feeling up to it.’

  Tom raised his eyebrows at Becky. ‘And you believed all of this?’

  ‘I believe she’s ill – it’s easy enough to check – and I’m certain she couldn’t attack anyone. She wouldn’t have the strength.’

  ‘No, but Eddie would. Have someone check it out, Becky. He may seem like an okay bloke now, but he used to be a troublemaker. Let’s not take him at face value.’

  53

  The incident room was buzzing. Keith had the financial details for India Kalu, and there was one crucial piece of information. The debit card had been registered nearly six years ago and pre-loaded with cash up to its limit. Apparently it had never been used until she paid for th
e hotel in Manchester. But then she’d used it again – this time to hire a car from Manchester Airport on Tuesday evening.

  ‘Should I inform DCI Douglas?’ Keith said to Becky, his voice impassive. He wasn’t a man to whoop for joy.

  ‘Let’s not disturb him yet. See if we can find her – work out where she’s gone. Have you spoken to the car hire company?’

  ‘Yes, to the office at the airport. They’ve got a system glitch at the moment, but the bloke I spoke to gave me the registration number. They’ll be able to track her on GPS once they’ve sorted out their tech problems.’

  ‘Bloody typical,’ Becky muttered. ‘In the meantime, let’s check for any other cards in her name and use the car’s registration number to check CCTV close to the airport, and then ANPR when we get an idea where she’s heading. And tell the car hire company we need to know the minute their problem’s fixed. While we’re at it, how are we doing with the birth records?’

  ‘Her father is Joel Kalu, her mother Nicola. We’re getting bank records for them too, and the debit card is registered to an address in Lincolnshire.’

  ‘Okay. We may need to get the local force to pay the parents a visit.’

  ‘Whoa!’ The shout came from Rob, who was sitting at the next desk. Becky and Keith swivelled towards him. ‘Come and look at this! I put the father’s address into Google Maps. The house is called Lakeside, and I expected a modern house on an estate – near a lake, to state the obvious. But this place is an estate. It’s bloody massive!’

  Becky peered over his shoulder. ‘The social media stuff that Cass found suggested that when she was a kid India lived in a fairly poor area of London, so what’s this? Did he rob a bank?’

  ‘Inheritance?’ Rob said. ‘It seems the move was fairly sudden.’

  ‘But they might not own the house. Perhaps they’re staff and they just live there. Keith,’ Becky said, ‘you know what to do.’

  She returned to her desk, where her email was pinging constantly as fresh information arrived. A driving licence, also in the name of India Kalu, was nine years old and close to expiry. It too was registered to the address in Lincolnshire.

  Then came the Land Registry information. Joel and Nicola Kalu had bought Lakeside without a mortgage, and several years later put the property into a trust, the trustees being themselves and Aram Forakis. Who the hell was he?

  She didn’t have long to wait for an answer. Rob sent her a link, then bounded over to her desk and pulled up a chair.

  ‘Click the link.’

  Becky did as he asked, and up came a photo of a man with white skin, a long thin nose and eyes that sloped down at the outer corners. There was something magnetic about his face, but more than anything it was the pale grey eyes that drew Becky’s attention.

  ‘I can’t decide if he’s the best-looking man I’ve seen in a while, or the most creepy,’ she said. ‘His features are powerful, but there’s something about his expression that terrifies me. It’s intense.’

  Rob pointed at the text below his name.

  Are you lost, feeling that the world has turned against you, that your life holds nothing of value?

  Aram Forakis has spent years helping people like you to find their way to a more fulfilled future in a tough world, giving them the strength to understand their emotions together with the tools to deal with negativity. Spend time in his care, and he promises to build up your resilience by giving you insight into the reasons for your unhappiness.

  ‘Selfishness, greed, envy, pride – these are the keys to misery. We should learn to embrace simplicity, accept our vulnerabilities and strengthen our souls. I can show you the way.’

  His words are truth.

  If you have an opportunity to listen to Aram speak – do it! You won’t regret it.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Becky said. ‘That’s not for me. I don’t like people messing with my head – it’s messed up enough as it is. And this guy is now a trustee of the Kalus’ house?’

  ‘He is indeed,’ Rob responded. ‘And…’ Rob looked away from the screen.

  Keith was standing by the desk, his face solemn. ‘I know something about Mr Forakis, if it’s the same man, and I think maybe DCI Douglas should hear it too.’

  54

  MARTHA

  As I drive along the unfamiliar roads from our bed and breakfast, I cling to the steering wheel as if my life depends on it. I’m excited and terrified in equal measure. I’m eager to see Dad, but the thought of what’s ahead, if he agrees to help me, fills me with dread.

  I don’t want Alfie to realise how unsettled I am so I’ve switched on the radio, the volume turned high, and it’s playing the kind of pop songs that he loves to sing along to, even though he can’t possibly understand the words.

  Memories of Leah have left me feeling sickened by my own weakness, and I wonder if I’m right to believe that I can withstand the strength of Aram’s control over me. I thought I could once before, but I was wrong, and the outcome was catastrophic.

  LAKESIDE

  After Leah told me of her plans to leave Lakeside, I had a day and a half to get through before it was time to meet her and make our escape. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

  What would I do, out in that strange world that I knew so little about? Where would I go? How would I live? I had no money; I didn’t even have shoes! Leah had told me not to worry – she had everything in hand and she would take care of me, help me find a job. I could live with her – in Manchester!

  With no television and no Internet except in Aram’s office – a part of the house banned to most – I didn’t know what to expect. I hadn’t been off the premises for more than two years, and I couldn’t decide whether euphoria or fear of the unknown was the cause of my racing heart.

  I kept well away from Aram and prayed he didn’t want me that night. I rarely stayed with him until the morning; it wasn’t an act of love with a gentle awakening in each other’s arms. It was sex – nothing more. I needed Mum’s help to avoid Aram on the night before Leah and I were due to escape. I couldn’t tell her what I was planning; I had no idea how she would react. We were so far apart that I struggled to understand anything she did. She was distant, hostile almost, and in Aram’s thrall. She was still my mother, but she wanted Aram far more than I did, and I thought I might be able to use that to my advantage.

  I walked into the kitchen where she was standing, as always, at the Aga. A man and two women were chopping vegetables for the meal, and they turned and nodded a greeting before getting back to the mammoth task of feeding our community.

  I dropped my head and let my shoulders hunch, then pulled out a chair and sat down.

  Mum glanced over her shoulder. ‘Get the plates out for supper, India.’

  I rested my elbows on the table and put my head in my hands.

  She looked at me again. ‘Plates, India.’

  With a deep sigh I pushed my chair back and trudged across to stand next to her.

  I kept my voice low. There was no sympathy for weakness in this house. ‘I don’t know what’s up with me. I’m weary; aching all over. I hope Aram isn’t expecting me tonight. I don’t want to give him a bug, if that’s what this is.’

  Mum’s back straightened slightly as if she’d had a thought. And I knew what it would be. With any luck, she would tell Aram that I was ill. He needed to keep his distance or he might catch it. She would offer her own services instead.

  ‘I’ll get the plates, but then I’m going to bed. Sorry, Nicola.’ I was used to calling her by her name, even though I still thought of her as Mum, and knowing I was about to leave made me long for one last connection with her. I rested a hand on her shoulder.

  She froze. We didn’t go in for displays of affection, and I pulled away before she did, got the plates, put them on the table and left the room.

  I passed the night in peace, and the next morning I didn’t go down for breakfast. I wasn’t entirely surprised when just before lunch my door was thrust open.

&nb
sp; ‘Aram wants to see you.’

  It was Mum, and there was no enquiry about my health. I couldn’t refuse, but by then I was genuinely feeling sick. Was I doing the right thing? Living at Lakeside was safe. It was all I had known since I was ten years old, and it wasn’t all bad.

  It wasn’t enough, though. I wanted more, although at that moment what I wanted most was to hide what I was feeling from Aram, because in a little over twelve hours I would be meeting Leah by the river.

  I walked into his room, my head lowered.

  ‘Look at me, India,’ he commanded. I raised my eyes slowly and looked beyond him, through the window at the gloomy clouds hovering over the house. ‘Look at me!’ he repeated, and I knew he wanted me to look into his eyes. ‘Sit.’

  In front of him was a cushion, and as I sank to the floor, my eyes locked on to his. I felt as if my pupils were being pierced by white light, so strong was his stare, but I didn’t drop my gaze. I couldn’t. I remembered Leah’s words. ‘Close your eyes,’ she’d said. But it was too late.

  ‘I understand you’re not well. Is that true?’

  ‘I’ve been feeling light-headed, weak. I’m sure it will pass if I can stay in my room for a day or two.’

  ‘You know I don’t encourage frailty.’ He reached towards the table by his side, where a glass was sitting. ‘Drink this,’ he said. ‘When you wake you will feel better.’

  I felt a flash of alarm. How long would it make me sleep for? Would I miss Leah? Would she be gone before I woke?

  ‘No, Aram. I’ll be fine. I just need to rest.’

  He leaned towards me and took my hand. His voice was soft, little more than a whisper. ‘You’re lying to me, India, and it hurts me deeply. You are so important to me, to our community. You are special, the beauty in our lives, and we need you. We love you. I love you! If something is troubling you, you must tell me.’