‘Sounds like a good plan.’
‘Morning, Amelia.’ It’s Dad heading down the stairs two at a time. He looks fresh, his damp hair combed back from his face. ‘How did you sleep?’
‘Not great,’ I say. ‘You?’
‘Same.’
‘Do you want some tea or coffee, Robert?’ Finn offers, half-rising.
Dad lowers himself down into an armchair. ‘I’m fine, son.’
There’s a noise at the top of the stairs and Rosamund appears. She’s dressed in a black polo-neck jumper and black jeans that show off her baby bump, her hair swept up in a high ponytail.
‘How are you this morning, Rosamund?’ Finn asks, as she stretches her arms above her head, before making her way down.
She shakes her head. ‘Awful,’ she says. ‘I’ve barely slept. Is there any news?’
We all shake our heads. ‘We’re planning to call the police as soon as it’s light,’ Finn says.
‘A few of us can head towards the gate,’ I add. ‘Hopefully we’ll get a signal.’
‘I’m coming this time,’ she says, her voice rising.
‘Is that a good idea?’
‘I don’t care if it’s a ruddy good idea or not, Amelia. My stepdaughter is missing, and I’ll go mad if I don’t do something.’ She covers her face with her hands, and I get up and put my arm around her. ‘This is torture,’ she cries. ‘I need to call Neil. He needs to know.’ She turns from my embrace, and heads into the kitchen.
I glance at my watch, and up at my dad. ‘What time is sunrise?’
‘About seven.’
‘Well I need to pop back to our cottage and grab a change of clothes.’
‘You really shouldn’t go wandering off alone.’
I know he’s right. ‘But I need clean underwear,’ I say, and when Finn’s cheeks flush, I instantly wish I hadn’t shared my intentions with the room.
Dad looks deep into my eyes. ‘Don’t go alone, Amelia,’ he says. ‘I mean it. We have to be sensible – there’s a killer out there. I’ll come with you.’
*
It’s just after 7 a.m., and the sun rises in the pale sky. The wind has dropped, and it doesn’t feel as cold out as yesterday. The snow is keeping off.
Maddie and Rosamund still have power on their phones, and Dad’s and mine are being charged. We’ve agreed to divide into groups of three, without actually admitting we don’t trust each other. Dad and Maddie will stay at the cottage with Thomas. Rosamund, Finn and I will head off towards the main gate.
We exchange phone numbers, just in case we lose each other, and make our way across the snow. I’m glad not to be freezing to death. Dad and I picked up my holdall from our cottage earlier, and I’m now wearing an extra pair of socks and three pairs of leggings. I don’t want repeats of the last time I ventured out with Maddie.
Finn takes the lead, and is several yards in front of Rosamund and me.
‘Christ,’ he yells, as he reaches the ruins.
We hurry to catch up. A mask of a boy covers the face of one of the crumbling angel statues. I grab my chest. It looks so creepy, and is just like one of the masks the police found hanging in the woods the day after Lark disappeared.
Rosamund bursts into tears, and I freeze, unable to move.
‘Who? Who would put …?’ I stutter, looking at Rosamund. ‘Elise said someone looked in her window with a mask on, didn’t she?’
‘I know,’ she says through tears. ‘I was sure she was making it up – like last time – or it was her imagination.’
Finn lifts his hand to touch the mask.
‘Don’t touch it,’ I say. ‘It could have fingerprints.’
‘Seriously?’ Finn narrows his eyes. ‘You think someone is going gloveless in this weather?’ He lowers his hand all the same, and turns on the spot, his eyes flitting across the area.
I do the same. It’s far too quiet. Not even the rustle of trees.
‘There’s someone else here,’ he says, snow absorbing his words. ‘Can you feel it?’
My eyes are back on the mask. ‘We should turn back,’ I say, a tremble in my voice. ‘All stay together.’
‘We can’t,’ Rosamund says. ‘We must call the police, and Neil. We have to find Elise.’
*
We trudge onwards, silent but on high alert, Rosamund and Finn checking their phones every few minutes, in the hope of getting a signal.
The gate to the estate is now in view. Surely if Dad got a signal when he was this far out, one of our phones should soon spring into life.
We take another twenty or so steps, before Finn calls over his shoulder that he’s got a few bars. ‘It’s not much, but I’ll give it a go.’
He taps his screen, and presses his phone to his ear. ‘Hello … hello … sorry, this is a terrible line. Police please.’
We wait and watch.
‘Finn Kinnaird,’ he goes on. ‘We’re stranded at Drummondale House in Dunlaig. My mother—’ his voice cracks ‘—my mother has been murdered.’ He pauses. ‘Ruth Kinnaird … yes, that’s right.’ Another pause. ‘And a young girl has disappeared – Elise Green – we don’t know where she is.’ He takes a deep breath, holding his chest. ‘And the weather conditions are awful. We need help. Fast.’ He looks at us, and pulls the phone from his ear, whispering, ‘I’m not even sure they can hear me properly.’
‘Shall we try walking a bit further?’ I suggest. ‘Maybe Rosamund will get a better signal.’
‘Yes, I’m still here.’ Finn presses the phone back against his ear, and then he’s silent. Listening. ‘OK. Yes. There are … six of us, but we think someone else is here.’ He screws up his face. ‘Right.’
‘Tell them to contact Neil,’ Rosamund calls. ‘Neil Green, he needs to know what’s happened to Elise.’
‘There’s one more thing,’ Finn says into the phone. ‘Can you contact the girl’s father, Neil Green …’ He looks at Rosamund, as she reels off a mobile number, and repeats it into the phone, before finally ending the call.
‘What did they say?’ My words are weak; my teeth chatter.
‘They said they can’t get to us by road at the moment, and for all of us to stay together, until they can get us help.’
‘When will that be?’
‘How long is a piece of string?’ He shrugs. ‘As soon as possible, they said.’
‘Maybe they’ll send a helicopter,’ Rosamund says.
‘Maybe,’ he agrees. ‘But for now we should head back, don’t you think? Stay in one cottage, like before.’
‘I’m not going back without Elise,’ Rosamund says, her cheeks red raw from the cold. ‘There’s one place we haven’t checked yet, and I’m going there, even if I have to go alone.’
Chapter 34
Present Day
Amelia
By the time we reach the bottom of Vine Hill we are exhausted, and drop down like skittles hit by a bowling ball onto the bench dedicated to Kyla.
‘Are you OK?’ I ask Rosamund, who is holding her stomach, and looking down at her baby bump. ‘You’re not in pain, are you?’
‘I’m fine,’ she says through deep breaths, cold air clouding her lips as words leave her mouth. ‘The baby’s kicking, that’s all. Exercising his little limbs.’
‘You’re having a boy?’ I feel a twist in my belly. I found out my baby was a girl early on. Not that I minded what I had – I just felt by knowing I may bond even more with my unborn child. But, as things turned out, knowing seemed to make it even harder when I lost her.
‘Yes, a little boy,’ Rosamund says, tears filling her eyes. ‘Neil so wants a boy.’
I place my gloved hand on hers, and swallow my sadness. ‘We will find Elise, Rosamund.’
My neck tingles. It’s as though someone else is here, sharing our airspace. Trees move behind us. A clump of snow thuds to the ground.
‘Good God!’ I hold my chest, as I look over my shoulder to see Dad appearing through the bushes, cheeks flushed.
‘I
saw you heading down here, from the cottage window,’ he says. ‘There’s not much I can do back there. Maddie is reading in her room, and Thomas is asleep on the sofa.’
‘But we’re meant to stay in groups of three,’ Finn says.
‘Maddie and Thomas aren’t killers, mate.’ Dad rests his hand on Finn’s shoulder and squeezes. ‘Try to relax.’
‘Relax!’ He shrugs away from Dad, his eyed firing. ‘My mum is dead, mate, and Elise is missing, and you tell me to fucking relax.’
‘Enough!’ I yell. ‘Jesus! Fighting among ourselves isn’t going to solve anything.’ I glare at Finn then fix my eyes on Dad. ‘We’re heading to the farmhouse to check Elise isn’t there. You coming?’
He gives Finn a long cold look, before heading away towards the farmhouse, his coat flapping around his calves, his scarf waving in the breeze.
*
As we get closer, the splendour of the farmhouse hits me. I count seven windows across the second floor, and three bay windows at ground level. In the middle of the building is a stunning double-fronted door, with a pitched porch.
I pick up speed, aware my toes and fingertips are growing numb despite my extra layers. Once there, I peer through one of the windows, my hand making a bridge over my eyes to block out the brightness of the day.
I take in the lounge with its three sofas, expensive units lining the walls, and open fireplace. I never came to the farmhouse last time I was here, only ever saw the place from a distance, was comforted in the knowledge that the police had searched the house at the time.
‘I’ll ring the bell,’ Rosamund says. She’s on the doorstep, glancing my way.
‘I don’t think anyone’s here, but it’s worth a try.’ I step away from the window and join her on the doorstep. Dad and Finn are a few yards back, as though worried the house might blow up.
Rosamund rings the bell several times, before trying the handle. ‘It’s locked,’ she says.
‘Let’s look round the back.’ I take the initiative, and head across the snow and through a gate leading to the back of the house. I stand for a long moment. A five-foot wall surrounds the garden, behind which snow-covered public land seems to go on forever. I glance over my shoulder. Only Rosamund is with me. ‘Where are Dad and Finn?’
‘They said they’ll go the other way, try to cover more area.’ She heads towards a Victorian-style conservatory that stretches along half of the house, but I’ve spotted a stunning summerhouse halfway down the garden. It’s green, and hexagonal in shape. Not the kind you find in a DIY store. In fact, it’s big enough to live in.
‘It’s open,’ Rosamund calls, and I glance over my shoulder once more to see her stepping into the conservatory.
I look back at the summerhouse and make my way towards it. The door is locked, so I step towards one of the windows and peer through the grubby glass. It’s difficult to see inside, but I make out the shape of wicker furniture stacked up ready for sunnier days. I circle the building, but blinds are pulled down at most of the windows.
I head back to the house. I’m not keen on being alone out here, and I’m so cold. I step into the conservatory, knowing I shouldn’t be here, invading someone’s home, but I have no choice – we need to find Elise.
Embroidered pictures of flowers line the main wall of the conservatory. At the far end, a circular table with a lace tablecloth, and four chairs around it, looks as though it’s never used. A shelf laden with books, jigsaw puzzles, and board games is closer to me, next to a sofa that would seat six, with expensive throws covering worn upholstery. My eyes fall on a grey cat curled up on an armchair, silently sleeping. Someone must be here. Michael? His daughter Julia, perhaps?
Flashes of memory of Julia arriving in her yellow sports car at the same time as the police the day after Lark and Jackson disappeared invade my mind as I continue through the door into the main house.
‘Rosamund,’ I call. ‘Rosamund?’
The hallway has several doors leading from it, and there’s a staircase to the first floor. I pull off my woolly hat and scarf. It’s warm in here – the central heating pumping out dry heat. ‘Hello!’
I make my way into a dual-aspect room. It’s the room I saw through the window at the front of the house.
I’m drawn to a heavy oak unit where framed photographs are on display.
There are pictures of Julia in her graduation gown, and several of Michael Collis. I know it’s him. I looked him up online after Lark disappeared – though I never met him. He’d inherited the Drummondale House estate from his parents when he was in his thirties, almost thirty years ago. He’s an attractive man with grey hair and ice-blue eyes, and there’s a confidence about the way he stands, shoulders back, a crystal glass in his hand in almost every photo.
My eyes skitter over the faces in the pictures, landing on a large photo of a young girl of around fifteen. I pick it up. I’ve seen this girl before.
I go to place the photo back on the dresser, but something distracts me. There’s movement outside, and I step towards the back window.
I gasp, and the photo slips through my fingers and lands with a thud on the patterned carpet. Someone, wearing the mask we saw earlier, is peering over the high garden wall. A chill runs down my spine as I step backwards, my heart racing. My stomach tight with fear, I spin round and race towards the door and fling it open. But before I leave I take a deep breath and turn back towards the window. Whoever it was out there in the snow has gone.
‘Rosamund,’ I cry, once I’m back in the hallway. ‘Rosamund, where are you?’
Seconds later, the door to another downstairs room opens and Julia Collis appears, removing ear buds from her ears. She’s dressed in a beige leotard and thick black tights. Looks slimmer than the last time I saw her.
‘What the hell are you doing in my father’s house? You totally messed up my meditation.’
‘Julia, let me explain,’ I say, taking in that her plaited hair is a shade lighter than the last time I saw her. Not that I’d got to know her when she appeared that day, telling Detective Inspector Beynon that she’d been staying at the farmhouse looking after the cat and working on her graphic novel, while her father was away. I hadn’t had the headspace to properly take her in at the time.
She narrows her eyes. ‘I remember you,’ she says. ‘Amelia Taylor, isn’t it?’ Her words are clipped. Sharp.
‘We’re looking for a teenage girl,’ I say. As though it’s perfectly OK to have entered the house uninvited. God it’s hot in here. ‘She’s missing from the holiday site.’
She widens her eyes. ‘Are you sure? It was only a year ago that your sister went missing wasn’t it?’
‘It was, yes.’ I’m miffed by her flippancy.
‘Have you any idea how much damage that did to my father’s business? People stopped coming here for months.’
I’m fuming. ‘Well, have you any idea how devastating it is to lose a sister? To have no idea where she is? To walk down a street and imagine you see her everywhere?’ I’m close to tears – cold, scared, desperate.
Julia stares at me for a long moment. ‘You know nothing about me,’ she says, and drags her plait over her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry for your loss, really I am, but it’s unlikely another girl has disappeared. She’s probably just gone walkabout. And didn’t the police decide they’d taken off together – Lark and that good-looking chap dating the woman with cancer?’
Anger bubbles. ‘My mother you mean—’
‘Oh yes, that’s right. Sorry. Totally forgot.’
‘The police left the case open,’ I spit. ‘And it’s not only Elise who’s missing, Ruth is dead – murdered.’
‘Christ! Ruth? Murdered?’ She covers her mouth, and her flippancy drains away, as her eyes fill with tears. ‘Oh God, are you sure?’
‘Yes, there’s no doubt,’ I say, my voice calmer. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that.’
Julia shakes her head. ‘The poor woman – and Finn, how is Finn?’
‘Not good, as you can imagine.’ A beat. ‘He’s about somewhere. Is your father here?’
‘He’s away.’ She flicks a tear from the corner of her eye. ‘As you probably recall, I stay here when he’s abroad. Funny, I hated living here as a child. It was so lonely, but now I crave peace.’ She seems lost in her words, her voice low. ‘Although I love living in Eyemouth, it’s good—’
‘You live in Eyemouth? My father lives near there.’
She nods. ‘Quite a trek up here,’ she says, turning, and I follow her into what appears to be another lounge. As well as two more sofas, there’s a computer on a desk laden with graphic drawings, a piano by the window, and a huge TV paused on an episode of Fleabag. There’s a cushion in the middle of the floor, which I guess is for Julia’s meditation. But there’s no sign of Elise having been here.
I walk towards the window and look out. ‘Did you see the man in the mask?’ I ask.
‘Is it on Netflix?’
I turn and stare at her, wondering if she’s joking, though knowing she can’t be. ‘Someone wearing a mask looked over the wall about five minutes ago.’
‘Good God, that is creepy. Are you sure?’
I nod, catching sight of Dad through the window, coming out of the summerhouse. He looks about him before pulling the door closed and heading for the house. He must have found a key.
‘Did you walk to the bench yesterday, Julia?’ I say, spinning round.
‘Kyla’s bench?’
I nod. ‘It’s just there were footprints leading from the farmhouse?’
She shakes her head. ‘That would have been Finn. He—’
‘Amelia!’ I look behind me to see Rosamund heading into the room. ‘I’ve been all over the house. There’s no sign of Elise.’
‘Do you remember Julia, Rosamund? She was here when Lark and Jackson disappeared.’
‘Not really,’ she says, barely looking at Julia. ‘Where are the others?’
‘I’ve looked around the summerhouse and garden.’ It’s Dad appearing in the doorway, his cheeks red from the cold.
‘Did you find a key?’ I say.
I Lie in Wait: A gripping new psychological crime thriller perfect for fans of Ruth Ware! Page 14