Cold Valley Nightmare

by Anna Willett

  The two men roared with laughter as Lucy used a napkin to mop beer off her chin. “Sorry.” In spite of the mess, she couldn’t help giggling. It felt good to be laughing and joking.

  When the laughter died down, Larson leaned back in his seat. Before he spoke, Lucy sensed a change in his mood. “So I guess you’ve both seen the news and know about the little boy that went missing in Cold Valley?” Larson continued without waiting for them to answer. “Clem Scott, aged four years and seven months went missing from the front yard of his parents’ home seven days ago.” All trace of humour was gone from his voice as he outlined the details of the child’s disappearance. “From what I know, the police are leaning towards the stepfather.”

  “So they think the stepfather…” The little boy’s image, blonde and smiling, flashed in her mind. It was a picture that had been on the news almost every night over the past week. A small happy-looking child in a Superman costume, innocent, unguarded and grinning. The idea that his parent could do something unspeakable was so incomprehensible that Lucy couldn’t finish the question.

  Larson shrugged. “He’s the most obvious suspect. It’s the angle I’d be looking at if I was on the case.”

  “So where do I come in?” Damon picked up his beer but didn’t drink, his eyes fixed on the bottle as though fascinated by its orange label.

  “The stepfather, Robert Wheeler, knows he is under suspicion and he’s hired himself a solicitor – an expensive one.” Larson ran his fingers across his knuckles as he spoke. “Anton Seabber, a good bloke, very switched on. We go way back to when I was a constable and he was an articles clerk. Seabber has asked me to do some digging, to come up with something.” He spread his hands out. “Anything that’s a lead on what happened to the little boy.”

  “So you want me to find something that points the cops away from the stepfather?” Damon spoke without looking up. Lucy didn’t need to see his eyes to know he wasn’t happy with the assignment.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” Larson tapped his finger on the table.

  “Do you?”

  Lucy was surprised by the tightness in Damon’s voice. When he looked up and met Larson’s gaze, his face was stony.

  “Yes, I do, because I thought the same thing.” Larson waited a beat before continuing. “Seabber wants us to throw up a smoke screen, take the heat off the stepfather.”

  Damon seemed about to say something, but Larson rushed ahead.

  “Like you, I saw the stepfather on the news and thought he looked like a slimy bastard. The last thing I’m going to do is help a child killer. That’s why I only agreed to take this on if you talk to the stepfather first.”

  Lucy took a sip of her beer. She had watched the press conference, seen the boy’s distraught mother begging for whoever took her child to return him. Lucy had no doubt the woman was genuine. The tortured look in her eyes wasn’t something that could be easily faked. As a reporter, she’d seen women faking it and knew the signs, or at least she thought she did. The stepfather was different. There was something about him that stirred a wave of dislike in her gut, and experience had taught her to trust her instincts.

  “Just meet with the man.” Larson was leaning forward now, his elbows on the table. “If you think he’s lying about not knowing what happened to the boy,” he said, holding his hands up, palms facing out, “we’re out.”

  Damon didn’t answer straightaway. Instead, he seemed to be considering something. “Why me?” Now Damon leaned forward. “You have a lot more experience interviewing liars and lowlifes. Why don’t you talk to him?” It was a fair question, one Lucy thought she already knew the answer to.

  When Larson spoke, his tone was softer. “Because if you’re going to do as good a job on the investigation as I know you’re capable of, you have to be the one who believes him, not me.”

  For a moment no one spoke and Damon went back to studying the label on his beer. Everything Larson said made sense. If Damon was to investigate Clem Scott’s disappearance, he had to know for sure he was doing it to help the little boy and not his killer.

  “Okay.” Damon set his beer on the table. “Set the meeting up.”

  Larson nodded. “I’ll call Seabber and organise a meeting for tomorrow.”

  “Wait a minute.” It was the first time Lucy had spoken since Larson brought up the missing child. “I want to go along on this meeting.” As the words came out, her pulse kicked up a notch. It was a year and a half since she’d worked as a crime reporter, choosing to opt out of violent stories in favour of human interest pieces. After what she’d been through, shutting any trace of violence out of her life seemed like the only way to keep her sanity. The idea of leaving the safety of the niche she’d carved out for herself made her nervous and, if she was honest with herself, a little excited.

  “No, Lucy.” Damon shook his head. “You don’t have to do that. It will stir up too many bad memories.”

  The sun was gone now, turning the veranda into an island of light in the complete darkness of the bush setting. Despite the shadows, Lucy could see the uncertainty on Damon’s face.

  “I know I don’t have to.” She was speaking only to Damon now. “I want to. If the stepfather didn’t do something to Clem, we might be able to find him.” She saw the way Larson shifted in his chair and realised he’d already made up his mind that the boy was dead. “I know the chances of him being alive are slim.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to find words to explain herself. “But maybe not. The three of us know better than anyone there’s always a chance.”

  Damon still looked unconvinced, so she pushed on. “Look, I’m used to interviewing people. If I think the stepfather’s lying, like Larson said, we’re out.”

  Larson spoke first. “I’m okay with it. In fact, I think Lucy would be an asset in this.”

  Lucy nodded. “You know we make a good team.”

  A crooked smile lifted the corners of Damon’s mouth. “Yeah, we do. Besides, I wouldn’t dream of trying to stop you when you’ve made up your mind.”

  “Smart.” Larson picked up his beer and took a long swallow.

  “Just one thing.” Lucy held up a finger. “Well, two things really.”

  Larson regarded her with raised brows.

  “Don’t tell him I’m coming and insist that his wife is there too,” she said.

  Chapter Three

  “What about listening devices?” Lucy kept her eyes on the road. “Today marks eight days since Clem went missing.” She shot a glance in Damon’s direction. “Plenty of time for the dogs to plant something in the house.”

  She was referring to the police surveillance unit referred to by cops and reporters as ‘the dogs.’ The dogs were responsible for planting listening devices in suspect’s homes and on their phone lines, as well as unmarked vehicles, dogging their targets’ every move. If the detectives leading the investigation believed Robert Wheeler murdered his stepson, they’d be doing everything in their power to get listening devices inside the man’s home.

  Until now Damon had been silent, contemplating the trees as they flew by – a posture Lucy had come to recognise as thoughtful rather than relaxed.

  “When Larson called this morning to confirm the meeting, he mentioned the possibility, but Seabber reckons Wheeler’s wife, Sadie, has only been out of the house twice since the boy went missing.” Damon held up two fingers. “The first time was the day Clem disappeared. Both Wheeler and the wife spent most of the night at the Mandurah Police Station.” He tapped his index finger. “Second time was for the press conference and appeal. They filmed it in Mandurah, but Sadie refused to leave the house empty in case Clem came home.” Damon sighed, a deep tired sound that pulled at Lucy’s heart. It was clear that the idea of such a young child being snatched from his mother was weighing heavily on both their minds.

  “According to the solicitor,” he continued, “Sadie Wheeler arranged for a friend to stay at the house when she was out for those few hours. So it’
s unlikely the cops have had the opportunity to get anyone in the home to plant devices.”

  Lucy nodded. She was no longer thinking about surveillance. Instead, her mind was on Sadie Wheeler. The torture the woman would be enduring could only be understood by someone who’d had a loved one disappear like a shooting star suddenly vanishing in the night sky. One minute burning brightly and the next nothing more than an image seared into the memories of the ones they’d left behind.

  “Lucy?” Damon’s voice startled her and she realised he was waiting for her to speak.

  “Sorry.” She held the wheel tighter. “I was just thinking about Sadie, hoping her little boy would somehow make his way home… I wish…” She wasn’t sure what she wished or how to finish the thought.

  “Me too.” Damon put his hand on the console, palm up. As always Lucy let her hand rest on his, soaking in the warmth of his skin, savouring the feeling of being connected.

  Moments later, she spotted the turn-off that led them to the Bannister-Marradong Road and further inland to Cold Valley. She couldn’t remember ever driving this far inland and was surprised at the suddenness of the changing scenery. The one-hour-and-forty-minute drive had taken them from sprawling bushland to thick, lush forest roads. As Lucy reduced speed, the road meandered into a deep valley of towering pines swathed in an ethereal mist. A place that seemed out of time with the rest of the world. But instead of being awed at the splendour, all she felt was dread at the knowledge that something unspeakable had happened inside this small community.

  * * *

  In a place like Cold Valley, it wasn’t difficult to find an address. The Wheelers’ home was the smallest house at the end of Hollows Lane, a narrow sloping road jutting away from the small town. Lucy pulled in front of the red-brick house and noted that it was set apart from the other dwellings. Almost like an afterthought, the building was tacked on at the edge of the lane. The far side of the property was bordered by forests and faced a sharp corner where the lane became a sideroad that disappeared between the trees.

  “If the little boy Clem wandered off, it’s easy to see him getting lost in all that.” Damon pointed to the row of trees crowding the side of the house. The police had spent days searching the forest but had come up with nothing. “On the other hand, there’s kilometres of terrain where a body could be easily hidden.”

  “Is that what you think happened?” Lucy asked, turning off the engine.

  Damon turned in his seat so he faced her. “I don’t know.” His eyes looked darker, edged by shadows that revealed a sleepless night. Lucy hadn’t managed much sleep either, feeling Damon’s body shifting each time he’d tossed and turned. It was only in the early hours when she moved into his arms that they both had been able to sleep.

  “I hope not.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But if the boy’s in there, after eight days, we’re looking for a body either way.”

  A shiver inched its way over Lucy’s skin, and despite her thick jumper and suede jacket she rubbed her hands over her arms. “Well.” She forced as much enthusiasm into her voice as she could muster. “Let’s hope he’s not in there.”

  Robert Wheeler opened the front door and, as Lucy had anticipated, seemed surprised to see her. Damon introduced himself and then her as his associate, leaving out the part about her being a journalist.

  “Great. Great.” Wheeler plunged his hands into his pockets, but made no move to invite them inside. “I... um… Anton, my solicitor, said they’d be sending a guy from an investigation company. I sort of thought…” He grinned, a humourless drawing back of his lips. “I don’t know what I was expecting…”

  Damon took a step closer to the doorstep. “It’s cold out here, Mr Wheeler. Can we talk about it inside?”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry. Come in.” He held the door open. “And please, call me Rob.”

  Wheeler led them a few steps down the hall and into a small sitting room. Lucy noticed a closed door on the opposite side of the hallway and wondered if it led to Clem’s bedroom.

  The room was cluttered with mismatched furniture and a flat screen TV. Morning light from the large front window somehow managed to alleviate some of the crowded feel, but didn’t quite counterbalance the claustrophobic atmosphere. Lucy seated herself on the double sofa as Damon took one of the armchairs. Rather than sitting, Wheeler hovered over them, straightening the hem of his red and black checked shirt. A tall man with gangly limbs that seemed to be in constant motion.

  “Sit down, Rob.”

  Startled by the sudden and commanding tone in Damon’s voice, Lucy managed to keep her expression blank and her eyes on Wheeler.

  A look crossed Robert Wheeler’s face, a slight narrowing of his dark eyes and the tightening of his jaw. It could have been anger, but Lucy didn’t know the man well enough to judge. If not anger, then watchfulness perhaps. He shrugged and sat in the remaining armchair with his legs crossed and his hands on the arms of the chair. When he looked up, the expression she thought she’d seen was gone.

  He focused on Damon with an expectant look on his face. A face which Lucy noted was quite attractive. He had a large frame, well over six feet. Tousled brown curls. Slightly tanned skin. She supposed under some circumstances Wheeler could be considered a good-looking man.

  “We don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

  Wheeler looked surprised when Lucy began, so she smiled in a way she hoped was friendly and sympathetic at the same time. On the drive, Damon had agreed it was best to let Lucy handle the first part of the interview. This was more her field of expertise than his and she would seem less intimidating. Hopefully, her tactics would have the man disarmed enough to, if not divulge the truth, at least reveal more of his personality.

  Wheeler returned the smile and leaned back in his chair. He’d obviously been expecting Damon to take the lead and seemed almost relieved to be speaking to Lucy.

  Lucy leaned forward and placed her hands in her lap. “This must be an agonising time for you and your wife.”

  “Yes.” Rob glanced at Damon then back to Lucy. “Sadie, my wife, she’s… Well, we’re devastated. I don’t know how else to explain it but as a nightmare.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. “I know the police think I did something to Clem, but I didn’t.” The last few words came out with bitterness. “They’re pushing to question me every five minutes… It’s driving me crazy. I’ve told them everything I know, but it’s like they don’t get it.” He pointed at the front window. “Clem’s out there somewhere.”

  Lucy ignored the diatribe about the police. “Tell me about Clem?”

  “Clem?” Wheeler stopped tapping. “You mean what happened the day he went missing?”

  “No.” Lucy gave a sympathetic nod. “But we’ll get to that. I just wondered what Clem is like. What sort of boy is he?”

  “Oh.” Rob seemed confused by the question. “You know… an average little boy. He liked dragonflies and Star Wars.” He was tapping again, this time on one knee. “His mum babied him, but apart from that he was always pretty well-behaved.”

  Lucy reached into her handbag and pulled out a notebook and pen. “Do you mind if I take notes?” She gave an apologetic shrug. “It helps me keep everything straight.”

  Wheeler shot another watchful glance at Damon. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

  “What were you saying about Clem’s behaviour?”

  Wheeler’s head snapped back in Lucy’s direction. “I wasn’t… I mean... he was a good kid. Not one of those screaming brats you see at the supermarket.”

  Lucy grimaced and nodded. “Yeah, makes me glad I don’t have any,” she said as a ripple of disgust towards the man formed in her gut and it took all her will to keep a pleasant grin on her face.

  Wheeler chuckled and uncrossed his legs. It was a small gesture, but it told Lucy he was more relaxed. “So Clem isn’t a tantrum thrower?”

  “No. No, he usually did what he was told. At least for me, anyway.”

  He gave Lucy
a what are you gonna do grin. According to Larson, Robert Wheeler was forty-two but looked younger. Maybe mid-thirties.

  “With Sadie, Clem was needier but then, like I said, she babied him a bit,” he said.

  Lucy wrote the word jealous on her pad but kept her features relaxed and friendly. “That must be difficult.” She noticed Wheeler’s brow wrinkle in confusion, then added, “You know. When you have different parenting styles.”

  Wheeler shrugged, but there was something alert in his eyes. “Not really. We made it work.” He was on guard again, choosing his words carefully.

  Lucy scratched her forehead, giving Damon the signal to take over. “So, what happened on the day Clem went missing?”

  Wheeler turned his head in Damon’s direction. Lucy couldn’t see his eyes, but noticed the tightening of his jaw.

  “I was in the study, working. Clem was supposed to be playing in his room. I told him–”

  “So you were at home alone with your stepson?” Damon’s posture was casual, but there was nothing relaxed about the tone of his voice.

  “Yes, I told the police that and my solicitor. It’s no secret I was alone with Clem when he went missing.” He was tapping his knee again. “My wife works at the primary school in Boddington three days a week. I was looking after Clem while she was working.”

  Damon waited, letting a pause in the conversation turn into an awkward silence. Most people rushed to fill these lags, saying anything to cancel the uncomfortable moment. But not Robert Wheeler. He simply waited and for a few seconds his restless limbs were at peace. Lucy couldn’t help wondering if the nervous energy, the tapping, was an affectation, because when faced with a situation where most people would be nervous he seemed calm.

  “So you were in the study, what happened next?”

  “I left the door open so I could hear Clem if he called.” He glanced at Lucy and she nodded approvingly. “I told him to stay in his room and play with his toys. He’s usually quiet so I wasn’t worried when I didn’t hear anything. It was only when–”

  “How often did you check on him?”