The Runaway

by Linda Huber

  A sergeant called Jim Evans who Rob hadn’t seen before arrived twenty minutes later, and fingered the gold chain. ‘She had the opportunity to lose this next door on several occasions, you say?’ He handed the pendant back to Rob. ‘We can be pretty sure it’s nothing, but I’ll have a word. His car’s there.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’ Rob met his eyes defiantly, but as he expected, the officer refused outright.

  ‘You will not. Seriously, Mr Gillan. I’ll be back in five minutes.’

  First it was scuffling and scratching noises outside the window.

  ‘It’s Scout again!’ Mia whispered loudly, her eyes huge.

  Kelly nodded. They’d heard him once before, then Dad yelled at him. She was still wondering if it would be safe to yell for Mia’s dad and nan now when heavy footsteps thudded up outside.

  Kelly clapped a hand over Mia’s mouth and put her lips to Mia’s ear. ‘Shh! We don’t know who that is. Wait until they speak to Scout.’ But the footsteps departed with no words spoken, and Kelly flung herself down on the mattress. Just one time, one sodding little time, they might get a break.

  It was a while later when they heard men’s voices in the garden, echoing strangely through the unblocked fan hole and too far away to hear what they were saying. Kelly put a finger to her lips and shook her head at Mia. One voice was Dad. The other was deeper, and she didn’t recognise it. Would they find Mia’s chain – or her ring? But with Dad there too…

  She put her mouth to Mia’s ear again. ‘Is that your dad out there?’

  A shake was the only answer, and Kelly put an arm around Mia. The poor kid was trembling. Like she was, inside. Should she yell? But they were laughing out there now… suppose the other man was as dodgy as her father, or even dodgier? There were bad people in the world, people who wouldn’t think twice about raping two captive young girls. It wasn’t worth the risk.

  The voices grew faint and disappeared.

  Mia lifted her eyes to Kelly, tears tracking over grubby cheeks. ‘Are they coming to finish us?’

  ‘No,’ said Kelly firmly, swallowing her terror for as long as it took to get the word out. If a lie gave Mia ten seconds reassurance, it was worth it. And ‘finishing them’ – that must have been an empty threat. But he’d locked them up all this time and no, shit… Heavy feet were clumping on the stairs.

  They huddled together, clutching each other as footsteps – one set, and heavier than her father’s, thumped through the cellar. Doors opened and closed, one very close by. Why didn’t their door? And then – the footsteps retreated. God oh God, should she yell? But the moment was gone.

  Kelly collapsed onto the mattress, hiding her face in her arms, unable to stop herself shaking. He was right, she was useless at everything. He had them exactly where he wanted them, terrified to shout for help in case the help was worse than the hell they had already.

  Rob and Dorothy sat at the kitchen table, staring into space in silence. It was closer to twenty minutes before Jim Evans returned, by which time Rob’s nerves were raw and his head was pounding.

  The other man’s first word removed any slight hope they might have been harbouring.

  ‘Nothing. I didn’t mention the locket; I said we were revisiting some of the places Mia could have been accidentally shut into. He was entirely cooperative; we had a wander round the garden and a look in his shed. Then he let me walk through the entire house by myself, including the cellar, and I stuck my head into the attic space too. I opened cupboards and checked under beds. She’s not there.’

  Rob slumped. It was what he’d expected, deep down, but it was still a slap on the face.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Dorothy. ‘We appreciate your help – don’t we, love?’

  Rob nodded. His hands were twitching to get around the neck of whoever had taken his Mia. If he’d tried to speak now, he didn’t know what would happen. He listened while his mother took Jim Evans to the door, assuring him there was nothing else he could help them with. That was it. Another interminable evening without Mia.

  Chapter Twenty

  Thursday, 13th August

  A night spent shaking on the mattress left Kelly exhausted and shivery. She stumbled to the toilet and drank a few mouthfuls from the tap, screwing her face up. The water tasted odd today. And her head was hot. But she mustn’t be ill here, where there was nothing she could do about it and no one to help her. Memories of last year’s throat infection banged into her head. Mum bringing her paracetamol and pastilles, hot drinks and hot water bottles, then going with her to the doctor’s when it didn’t clear up over the weekend. A clean, soft bed and a pillow sounded so luxurious and oh, she wanted her mum…

  Mia was peering into the food box. ‘There’s almost nothing left.’

  Kelly flopped down and curled into a ball. ‘You can have it. I don’t feel like eating.’ She sank into an uneasy doze, interrupted by Mia scraping around in the food box and going to the loo.

  When she awoke the little girl was sitting by her side. ‘Are you sick?’

  Kelly coughed, then pulled herself up to lean against the wall. ‘I’m fine.’ She had to be.

  Mia’s relief was plain even in the dimness. ‘Should we try again with your rings? Someone might find them this time.’

  No one would. Bleakness filled Kelly’s head, but this was about keeping Mia happy. ‘Good idea. Or – let’s throw out something bigger. Like my sweatshirt.’ Grandma’s voice: In for a penny… She pulled off the sweatshirt with its memories of her and Jess dancing and clapping in the audience as Ariana Grande sang on stage. She’d been alive, then. For a second Kelly buried her face in the blue material, but the concert was gone and sweatshirt was a good name because that’s what it smelled of now. She handed it to Mia. ‘Shove it out as far as you can get it, throw it if you can.’

  Mia’s voice wobbled. ‘He’ll see it the minute he goes into the garden.’

  ‘And so might someone else. Like – the postman, if he goes round to leave a parcel or something.’

  Mia cheered up, and they went through the same procedure under the fan hole, Kelly’s limbs weak and shaky beneath Mia’s weight. Getting the sweatshirt out involved breaking off more of the fan, and Kelly swayed on her feet. She ground her teeth together. She could do this, she must, one more time. Come on, Kelly.

  Mia leaned one hand on the wall as she stuffed the sweatshirt out. ‘I can only throw it a very little way.’

  ‘That’s fine, kiddo. You’re doing great.’

  Mia slid down, renewed hope on her little face. Kelly brushed dust off the little girl’s hair. Good job, Kel, and all she wanted to do was lie down. She shivered. Her head was hot, but the rest of her was chilly now, without her sweatshirt.

  ‘I’m hungry.’ Mia shook the food box, but only empty wrappers slid around inside.

  Kelly lay down on her back. ‘He’ll bring more today.’ But supposing he didn’t? Apprehension joined the hopelessness in her soul. They should have waited with the sweatshirt until supplies had arrived, but it would all come down to the same in the end, wouldn’t it? They were done for.

  It was dimmer than usual today; the sun was missing. Kelly lay dozing, Mia huddled against her, interrupting her sleep every five minutes to ask if she was better yet. A new sound rattled into the cellar – thunder, then rain. Torrential rain; oh, her Ariana Grande sweatshirt would be soaked. Tears escaped and ran down the side of Kelly’s head and into her hair and her ears. She couldn’t do this any longer.

  The storm crashed on forever, then sparse sunlight spilled through the fan hole into the dimness. Kelly concentrated on breathing. In and out, slowly, in and out. Her head was swimming and thumping and breathing was an effort and bloody hell, this was as bad as it got.

  Oh no, it wasn’t. The sarcasm in the voice from outside made her curl in a ball. ‘A sweatshirt. My goodness. Imagine finding a sweatshirt in the garden.’

  Kelly closed her eyes as tightly as she could, Mia clinging to her arm. The voice became l
ouder; it was right outside the fan hole. He must be kneeling down.

  ‘You pathetic little girls.’

  Light from the fan hole diminished, then returned to normal as the sweatshirt plopped to the floor.

  The sing-song taunt changed into a throaty whisper. ‘You’ll be sorry for that.’

  She was sorry already.

  Nicola parked Deb’s car in the crowded car park at Tesco’s, and wrestled a trolley from the collection by the door. The place was heaving; everyone in St Ives must have waited until the rain stopped then rushed out to do the weekly shop. She weaved through the crowds, collecting a few bits before hurrying back to the checkouts. Now she had some energy back, it was frustrating to have to wait until tomorrow for a van. One way to speed things up was to get the small stuff from the house boxed up and ready to go, so that was this morning’s agenda. Tesco always had a pile of cardboard boxes by the door; seven or eight would be enough. She’d already texted Ed to say she’d be there at eleven. An hour’s work should do it, then tomorrow she could load the stuff into the van and get going. It couldn’t come quickly enough. She’d be back in London by early evening, in time for the rush hour traffic, but that couldn’t be helped. Sue, Ben and Jess were coming to help unload everything and oh, how bittersweet that would be. Jess was a lovely girl, and Nicola knew she was going to take one look at her and burst into tears.

  The sun was struggling through as she drove out of St Ives, blinding reflections from pools of rainwater on the road flashing into her eyes. Nicola crawled along Coast Road. The car was in the driveway, and she pulled up beside it and fetched the boxes from the boot and rear seat. She would get this over with ASAP; the house was the last place she wanted to be, especially with Ed there. The entire procedure was mapped in her mind – her clothes, other sundry possessions, Kelly’s most important treasures and a selection of bedding and kitchen stuff.

  Annoyingly, Ed followed her around everywhere – did he think she was going to steal his CD collection? – whining in the irritating way he’d developed recently and poking around in whichever room she happened to be in.

  ‘What are the police saying?’ Nicola stuffed duvet covers and pillowcases into a box and added a pile of towels.

  ‘Useless beggars. They were round yesterday, looking for Mia, but not a word about Kelly.’

  Nicola paused in her rummage through the airing cupboard. ‘Not even a mention?’ They’d given up, hadn’t they?

  He turned away, and Nicola scowled at his back. She couldn’t depend on a word he said, and one of the first things she’d do when she was back in London would be to get hold of the appropriate police officer there and make sure she was brought up to date.

  Downstairs, she filled a couple of boxes with kitchen essentials. Stuff like the good china could wait; they never used it anyway and as long as Ed kept the house it could stay here. He was watching her from the kitchen table now, swigging a beer and fiddling with the radio. Nicola’s impatience soared as station after station boomed out and was replaced until Status Quo blared through the kitchen.

  Ed stretched his feet under the table, and burped. ‘You know you’ll never see her again? Insubordination, that’s why she disappeared. It was always going to happen.’

  He sounded drunk, and Nicola stood up, tossing a handful of tea towels in the box. Time to go. If she heard him say it was Kelly’s fault one more time, she’d chuck something hard at him.

  ‘I’m picking the van up at one tomorrow, and I’ll come straight here.’ Nicola seized the kitchen box and took it out to the hallway where the secretaire and chair were waiting along with the other boxes. She ran back outside without saying goodbye. Incredible, what their family had come to.

  Two cars were parked next door, and on impulse she went to ring the bell. Dorothy answered, and one look was enough to tell Nicola the search for Mia had stalled too. The two women hugged silently, then Dorothy stood back.

  ‘Come in and have a coffee.’

  Rob was in the kitchen nursing a glass of orange juice. His face was covered with what was almost a beard, and his hair was wild. Nicola winced. Her own would never recover from the clutching she’d done since Kelly disappeared.

  She touched his arm and sat down. ‘I’m going back to London tomorrow. Is there anything I can do for you?’

  His eyes were bleary. ‘I’m getting flyers made too, and we might try crowdfunding to get a reward together. But we have to face it, Mia might not be alive now. And I’d rather she was dead than in the hands of some–’

  He broke off, and swiped at his hair.

  Dorothy handed Nicola a mug of coffee. ‘Rob found Mia’s locket in your garden next door. She must have lost it when she was over fetching Scout home – we’re glad to have it back.’ She fingered the thin gold chain around her neck. ‘We’re moving to Brighton in a day or two.’

  Nicola nodded dumbly, then reached for her bag. ‘Look, I’ll give you some flyers to distribute along with yours, and I’ll do the same for you. You can email the image to me and I’ll have them run off.’ She scribbled her email address on the back of one of the flyers and handed them over. Dorothy folded the flyer and put it in her handbag, then placed the rest on the worktop.

  Nicola drank her coffee. There was so little more to say. None of them had any real hope of seeing their children again, and normal conversation had no place in the rawness of it all. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it was – empty. Some days, she had no tears left, and this was one of them.

  A scraping noise started in the garden, and Kelly held her breath. It sounded as if someone was dragging a large stone along the path. Guttural pants came through the fan hole. It was him – no point in shouting for help, even if they’d had the guts to. Mia was squeezing up close, shaking, both hands clutching Kelly’s arm. A dull thud against the wall and the little light they had halved, then reduced again with another scrape. He was blocking off the fan hole. Oh God. She still felt so crappy, and now they really were lost. Lost girls in the cellar.

  ‘You’d better get used to it, girls. I’ll be off to London soon.’

  That taunting voice again. He was mad, and they were doomed. Kelly didn’t move. Sometime in the future, someone would come down here and find two bodies, huddled together on a mattress. Or two skeletons. What did it feel like, to die? And how long would it take? Mia whimpered in her arms.

  ‘Shh, Mia. Go to sleep. We’ll think what to do in the morning.’

  Kelly cuddled Mia closer, listening as the kid’s breathing steadied and the small body relaxed. Good, she was asleep. It would be better for Mia if she died without ever waking up. Moving slowly, Kelly freed one arm from Mia’s grasp, and put her hand on the little girl’s chest. Slide up to her neck… all she’d have to do was press down… Mia might waken and be afraid, but a couple of minutes’ pain and then blessed emptiness was better than a long, lingering death. She squeezed, and Mia pushed her hand away and sat up.

  ‘You’re squashing me. Is there more food yet?’

  ‘Tomorrow. Go back to sleep.’

  ‘I’m not tired. Can we play Imagine?’

  She cuddled down again, and Kelly cuddled up close. She had to do it. A nice game first, then sleep. And then she’d strangle Mia. It wouldn’t be hard; the kid was so skinny. God knows what they both looked like, but God didn’t care, did he? No one cared, or no one who could help, anyway.

  ‘Okay. Imagine a lovely sunshiny beach. Little waves washing up. Nice firm sand near the sea and hot, loose sand near the cliffs. What are we going to do?’

  ‘Build the biggest sandcastle ever. And we’ll go paddling.’

  ‘And the water’s cool but not freezing. We splash along and the waves splash back.’

  ‘And we go for ice cream. With raspberry sprinkles. And…’

  It was important, this good place they were finding on the beach. Mia would go to sleep thinking about it, and never wake up. Kelly continued the game when it was her turn, and gradually Mia’s turns got s
horter and shorter and stopped. Wait now, until she’s fast asleep.

  Now.

  Kelly held her breath, sliding a gentle hand up Mia’s chest, inching along the child’s collarbone until a pulse beat against her fingers. Mia’s breath stirred the hairs on her arm. Such a thin little neck… and now squeeze and–

  Kelly flopped round on her back, tears stinging, her breath coming in short, painful pants. She could stamp on a bug, but to press the life from a breathing child – no. What a coward she was. She turned back to hold Mia again, feeling something break within her, feeling darkness come up and up; it was all-enveloping. She would never see sunshine again.

  Dark images floated around in her head. Mum, crying, searching, Dad, that taunting voice, and the nothing in the cellar pulling her down, down, and it was so cold, and she couldn’t see… Hours and hours and hours and dark… This must be the end.

  ‘Kelly, wake up! I’m scared!’

  But she couldn’t wake up.

  ‘Kelly? Please wake up?’

  She couldn’t move. All she could do was breathe.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Friday, 14th August

  Nicola nodded her thanks as Deb pressed a wedge of Brie into her case. Who’d have thought a couple of months ago that her daughter’s biology teacher would turn into such a good friend? The school had kept in the background, but she knew now most of the teachers and many pupils had been helping to spread the word all over the UK – kids in towns and cities across the country were looking out for Kelly. But of course the most likely scenario was that Kel was in London, and if only someone had cottoned on to the fact that the threat to run away had been real. Nicola banged the case shut. That someone should have been her.

  ‘Sure you don’t want me to help you with your stuff at the house? I’m meeting my sister for coffee late afternoon, but I can be all yours until then.’ Deb was hovering in the spare room doorway.