‘We’ll need to speak to them both.’
‘Michael’s abroad at the moment; Julia stays at the farmhouse while he’s away.’
Julia was in her twenties, overweight, and wearing a long, patterned skirt, high boots, and a mustard-yellow fake-fur jacket. ‘What’s happening, Finn?’ she called to the man, as she headed towards him, her fair hair twisted into a long plait down her back. ‘I heard sirens.’
‘Two guests have gone missing,’ Finn called back.
Kate turned and eyed the guests once more. ‘I’ll need to speak to you all individually,’ she said. ‘Is there somewhere we could set up? We need to know more about Lark.’
Was she a happy teenager? Taking any medication? When did you last see her? How did she seem?
‘Oh God,’ Caroline said, turning to Robert, who wrapped his arms around her.
Two police cars appeared and pulled up next to Julia’s car.
‘Ah, good, uniform.’ Kate took a deep breath and addressed the gathered guests, ‘Even though the car’s gone, we can’t rule out that one of them could still be on site,’ she said. ‘I’ll organise an immediate search of the area.’
*
They were called into the conservatory one by one. They’d all seen Lark the night before at dinner, and Caroline told Kate that her daughter went straight to bed when they got back to their cottage.
Once the final guest had been questioned, Kate’s mind skittered over what they’d told her – breaking down the main points:
‘It was the man in the mask. I’ve seen him lots of times since I’ve been here. He took Lark.’ Elise Green
‘I’ve never really trusted Jackson. Not the kind of person I’d chum up with, if you know what I mean. He has a look about him, you know.’ Neil Green
‘Lark hasn’t been herself lately. She’s been taking Diazepam. It worries me. And she took off the day before when we were on the beach. She worried us all. I can’t believe Jackson would take her. But then why would she take off? She knows how ill I am.’ Caroline Taylor
‘She isn’t herself – that much is true. But I’ve never trusted him. I would catch him staring at my daughter. And then there was the night of the ghost walk. He led her off the path. She seemed upset.’ Robert Taylor
‘He’s a type, you know. Thought he could have any woman – or girl in this case – he wanted.’ Rosamund Green
‘I heard the scream first, about two in the morning. The squeaking was weird, but I can’t be sure it wasn’t a dream. It was later I heard the car roar away. Saw the tail-lights of Jackson’s car disappearing.’ Amelia Taylor
‘Such a pretty girl, but sullen – I put it down to her mother’s impending death – an awful thing for her to have to cope with.’ Ruth Kinnaird
‘Lark has an attitude, a stroppy teenager. But she has a lot on her plate with her mum dying.’ Finn Kinnaird
‘No, I never met either of them. I was in the farmhouse, working on my graphic novel.’ Julia Collis
‘I can’t believe my sister would go off with Jackson voluntarily.’ Thomas Taylor
‘He’s an extremely good-looking man. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tempted her away.’ Maddie Jenkins
*
It was mid-afternoon when Kate and Gavin were called into the forest. There were five in all – hanging from trees closest to the site – masks depicting the face of a young boy, swaying hauntingly in the light breeze.
Kate swallowed. ‘Christ. Who the fuck put these up?’
‘There’s blood on the bark of a tree, ma’am,’ said a young constable. ‘And wheel marks in soil nearby.’
But there was no sign of Lark or Jackson.
Later, Kate gathered everyone back in the conservatory.
‘You can leave Drummondale House,’ she said, dragging her fingers through her short hair. ‘But don’t leave the country. We may need to talk to some of you again, so leave contact details.’
‘Get the cases, Neil,’ Rosamund said, jumping up. ‘We need to get away from here, for Elise’s sake.’
The girl looked up from her Kindle. And within seconds she was on her feet and following Rosamund through the door.
‘Sorry,’ Neil said to the room, rising too. He leaned in, and kissed Caroline’s cheek. ‘Keep in touch, won’t you? And if there’s anything we can do, just shout. I hope to God you find them soon.’
Once the Green family had left, Kate drifted outside to take a call from traffic police.
‘Jackson’s car has appeared twice on CCTV,’ the officer told her. ‘Once on the A9 at Aviemore, and later on the M90 heading south, and there’s something else.’
‘Go on.’
‘There was nobody in the passenger seat.’ A beat. ‘And the driver had shoulder-length brown hair and was wearing a mask.’
*
‘We’ll do a wider search at first light,’ Kate said; now back in the conservatory, beating down thoughts that the lass may already be dead. She took a deep breath. ‘We’ll grab the locals to help, and get the dogs up here, plus coastal rescue.’
‘I’d like to stay and help,’ Amelia said.
‘Me too,’ Robert said with a sad nod. It was clear the man had been crying.
‘Good.’ Kate rose, and doing her best to sound positive, she added, ‘We’ll do everything in our power to find her.’
Chapter 41
A Year Ago
Amelia
The blood on the bark of the tree was human, but untraceable. The masks had no fingerprints. Neither Ruth’s trolley nor Thomas’s wheelchair had matched the wheel imprints. The wider search had revealed nothing either, and a TV appeal several days later only attracted a few dead ends. Things weren’t looking hopeful.
Amelia returned to London a week later, unable to cope with seeing her parents and Thomas fall apart.
But the irony was, being in London was no easier. The months that followed dragged her down. Pulled her so far under, she could barely breathe.
*
‘She only has a few more weeks,’ her dad said down the phone. ‘That’s what the nurses have said. If you want to visit, now would be a good time.’
Amelia had packed an overnight bag and headed straight there.
Her heart had constricted as she stepped into her mum’s bedroom. Seeing her so washed out, her eyes so heavy, broke her heart.
‘I’m so glad you’re here, Amelia,’ her mum said. Whether it was the cancer or Lark’s disappearance that had caused her mum’s light to fade so fast, Amelia couldn’t be sure.
After kissing her mum’s cheek, Amelia looked about her. This room was where Caroline had worked on flower arrangements after Rosamund’s florist closed. She’d set up a small business, all those years ago – not that it had been particularly successful – and there were still boxes of ribbons, silk flowers and rolls of cellophane piled high on a pine table.
A pale-blue journal and gold pen lay on the bedside cabinet, and rows of photo albums she’d made over the years lined a pine shelf. Watercolours of flowers – bluebells, daffodils and roses – hung on the walls. Her dad had left everything as it was when she moved out with Jackson.
The single bed, where Caroline had spent most of the time over the last few weeks, was new. Robert bought it when she moved back in. ‘Stay,’ he’d said to her. ‘Stay, until Lark and Jackson are found.’
It was a sunny bedroom – cheery, the open window letting in a warm breeze that gently moved the pretty lilac curtains. It was a nice place to spend her final days.
Amelia gripped her mother’s hand, the feel of her skin against hers comforting, yet at the same time tearing her apart to see her mother so ill.
They talked about anything and everything, but avoided any mention of how little time they had left to share those precious words.
‘Could you look in my bag? There’s a letter inside.’
Amelia leaned over and picked up the bag. Handed it over.
‘I need you to post it for me,’ her mum said, pulling o
ut a sealed envelope and handing it over.
Amelia turned the envelope over in her hands. It was addressed to Neil Green. ‘What’s it about, Mum?’
‘Just do this one thing for me, Amelia. Neil needs to get this letter. Don’t ask me why, please. Just post it.’
Amelia knew her mum was getting a little confused due to the morphine, but today, although she was growing tired now, she felt sure her mum knew what she was doing.
‘It’s important.’ Her mum closed her eyes, sighed, and with a voice barely audible, added, ‘That’s all you need to know.’
Amelia had fought down tears in all the time they’d been talking, but now they burned against her eyes.
‘I’m not afraid of death.’ It was as though her mum sensed her daughter’s tears hiding there. ‘I’m so, so tired,’ she said.
*
Rosamund didn’t come to the funeral, but Neil was there, sitting at the back of the crematorium, as Amelia, Thomas and their dad took turns reading poems.
Amelia sat at the front with her family. William hadn’t been able to take time off work to be with her, and once again it hurt that he hadn’t supported her.
As they listened to the celebrant talking about her mum’s life, Amelia glanced over her shoulder at the door, hoping it would open and Lark, like a miracle, would appear in her flowing black dress, and lace-up boots. She even hoped Jackson would turn up, with his perfect features and sandy-blond hair, but neither came.
Outside the crematorium she gripped her dad’s arm as they looked at the flowers.
‘I can’t believe she’s gone,’ he said. He was wearing his long black coat, despite the warm weather, and perspiration coated his forehead. He hadn’t cried during the service, but his eyes filled with tears now.
‘We’ll get through this, Dad,’ she said, squeezing his arm, moving in closer. But, truth was, she didn’t know how they would.
She kept thinking she saw Lark that day, as the sun glinted on surrounding trees. Her presence was so strong, like an angel sent to take their mum.
Later, back at the family home, she laid out the sandwiches she’d ordered from Waitrose, and tipped crisps into bowls. She put French Fancies – Mum’s favourites – onto her best china plates. Everyone knocked back cheap white wine, as though it might help with the awkwardness of it all.
Amelia’s grandparents had died a long time ago, and her mum had no brothers and sisters. She’d lost touch with most of her friends when she moved in with Jackson, but there was still a good turnout – mostly Robert’s colleagues from the museum, and a few friends from the am-dram society.
Following an argument with Maddie, Amelia left the gathering, and after a brief hug with her dad, she climbed the stairs to bed, burying herself under the duvet, and crying until she fell into a restless sleep.
*
After the funeral, Amelia returned to London to attempt to get her life back on track. Her dad and Thomas insisted they would be OK without her. But the truth was, she wasn’t sure she would be OK without them.
Chapter 42
Present Day
Amelia
Still reeling from believing Finn is the masked killer, and almost killing him, I struggle to sleep – tossing and turning, jolting in and out of terrifying nightmares.
At DI Kate Beynon’s suggestion, Dad, Thomas and I are staying at a B & B in Inverness overnight. We’re to stay in the area until the search of the estate is complete. Rosamund and Neil are here too, though I haven’t seen them.
By 5 a.m. I’m wide awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece everything together.
And then it hits me.
There were two people there the night I was attacked. Yes, I heard two people. I’d called to the other for help. Had the second person been Finn?
I throw back the duvet and head into the shower. The piercing water on my flesh goes some way to making me feel human again, but I can’t rid myself of a dull headache, despite taking strong painkillers.
It’s 9 a.m. when Beynon rings my mobile. ‘I’d like you to come down to the station, Amelia,’ she says, and my stomach twists. ‘We need to take formal statements from everyone, and I’d like to begin with you.’
*
Dad drives me to the police station, and agrees to wait for me outside.
Once in the building, I head for reception, my skin prickling.
‘Amelia.’ It’s Beynon, appearing through a side door. ‘This way, please.’
Once sitting in the kind of room I’d only ever seen in crime dramas, Beynon and DS McKay opposite me, I say, ‘Do I need a solicitor? This is all a bit formal, isn’t it?’
‘It’s just a few questions, Amelia.’ She smiles. ‘You’re not under arrest. We just need a statement from you, that’s all.’
‘OK.’
‘And also to see if you’ve remembered anything new since we last spoke.’
‘Like what?’ Should I mention the second person?
‘Anything at all that might help us with our enquiries.’
‘Well, someone attacked me,’ I say.
She nods. I’ve told her this before.
‘And when I came round I saw a figure on the bench … wearing that awful mask. Finn.’
She nods. ‘We know that was Finn. His blood was all over the bench. But we know he wasn’t stabbed there. Someone moved him. Do you know anything about that?’
I shake my head. ‘I’ve no idea.’ At least that much is true.
‘If you know anything at all, Amelia, now would be a good time to say.’
There was something about Beynon that reminded me of a girl I knew at my senior school – a girl I never wanted to cross. And part of me wants to yell that it had all been a huge mistake. That I thought, when Finn crouched down in front of me, that he was the masked killer. I stabbed him.
‘He isn’t the killer,’ I say in a rush. ‘I remembered this morning. There were two people there that night, I’m sure of it.’
Beynon bites down hard on her lower lip, her dark eyes boring into me. ‘Really?’ she says. ‘Well, we’re just waiting on forensics, and once Finn comes round from the coma and we can interview him, things will be a lot clearer.’ She leans back in her chair.
‘Is that it?’ I say. ‘Can I go now?’
‘Once you’ve signed your statement, yes.’
‘Inspector Beynon,’ I say. ‘Do you think Jackson had anything to do with this?’
‘Whoever did this violently killed two people, Amelia. There are similarities – the masks – the fact they are both young girls – but differences too. Rest assured, Amelia,’ she says, rubbing a hand across the back of her neck, ‘we haven’t ruled out a connection.’
*
Two days later I take a taxi to the hospital. I’m not sure why I’ve come. Maybe I just need to see Finn – I’ve been so worried about him.
Once outside his hospital room, I can see through the glass panel that he’s awake. My relief that he’s no longer in a coma is tainted by fear and guilt. Has he told the police what happened that night?
I push open the door, and step inside. He looks vacant, his skin raw from ice burns, his lips cracked and sore. A lump rises in my throat. I did this to him.
A rosy-cheeked nurse with tight blonde curls looks round and smiles. ‘He’s doing well,’ she says.
Julia is by his bed, holding his hand. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, Amelia,’ she says, catching my eye, ‘but you look ruddy awful.’ She doesn’t look much better herself – her round face stony pale.
‘I haven’t slept since …’ I begin. The sounds of the machine whirring – beeping Finn’s vitals, making sure he stays with us – make me shudder. I did this to him.
Julia looks at Finn, who closes his eyes without a word. ‘He’s still in a poorly way,’ she says. ‘The police are on their way.’
‘They haven’t interviewed him yet?’ My heartbeat quickens. What will Finn tell them?
She shakes her head.
‘Wi
ll he be OK?’ I ask.
The nurse, who is monitoring his drip, nods. ‘It’s looking that way.’ There’s hope in her voice.
‘The police have given up their search of Drummondale House estate,’ Julia tells me, and I’m selfishly relieved I can finally leave Scotland. ‘They’re convinced Elise has been taken from the area. Like Lark was.’
‘But that doesn’t ring true, does it?’ I say. ‘How could anyone have got her away from there?’ I’m still convinced Elise was murdered on site, just as Maddie and Ruth were. That it was only a matter of time before her body turns up.
The door swings opens and DI Beynon, and DS McKay enter.
‘Finn,’ Beynon says, unzipping her tartan jacket, seemingly unaware of anyone else in the room. She drags up a chair, and Finn opens his eyes. ‘Do you remember me?’
‘Inspector Beynon,’ he says, his voice husky.
‘That’s right. It’s good to see you’re improving, Finn. Listen, we’d like to talk to you, if you feel up to it. Is that OK?’
He nods.
‘So let’s begin at the beginning, shall we? You were out alone? Even though you knew there was a killer about.’
‘Looking for Maddie,’ he mumbles.
‘But you didn’t find her.’
He shakes his head.
‘Do you remember who hurt you?’
Finn moves his eyes to look at Julia, who is still clasping his hand.
This is it. This is the moment I’ve been dreading.
‘Someone attacked Amelia,’ he says, turning his eyes to me. I step backwards, hoping the wall will absorb me.
‘Someone?’ Beynon glances at me briefly.
He swallows hard, and lifts his eyes to the ceiling. ‘Whoever it was wore that awful mask.’ His voice fades.
‘Take your time, Finn. No rush.’
‘I cried out to them to stop,’ Finn went on. ‘And they took off. But when I bent to help Amelia, she … she …’ He blinks several times.
Please don’t say the words. Please, Finn, I didn’t mean to hurt you.
I Lie in Wait: A gripping new psychological crime thriller perfect for fans of Ruth Ware! Page 18