The Runaway

by Linda Huber

  A little shock ran through Nicola at the word sister. Had Ed told Melanie what was going on here? He’d never mentioned it… Mentally adding ‘call Melanie’ to her to-do list, Nicola zipped the case shut.

  ‘You’ve done loads already, you’re a star. Everything’s ready to go, and Ed’ll be so glad to see the last of me he’ll have it in the van before you can blink, don’t worry. And it’s a good day for travelling, so no problem.’

  She’d worried about driving all that way in a strange van in bad weather. Suppose there was a storm like yesterday’s? But the forecast was good, a mixture of sun and clouds. She’d be on the road to London in an hour, and tomorrow it would be business as usual with the search. Nicola wheeled her case into the hall. Some things hurt so much you had to ignore the pain and get on with it.

  ‘Come on. A good lunch, and then you’ll last until tonight.’ Deb hugged her hard, and for a second Nicola leaned on the other woman. But a second was enough. Today she was back to the big girl pants.

  Rob took his phone into the living room and slumped on an armchair. This was day ten. They were into double figures, and today he had no hope left.

  The usual call came from Mike, and of course the police had nothing new to report. Suppose Mia – Mia’s body – was never found? Rob trudged over to the window overlooking the Atlantic. Blue and surging sea was merging into haziness on the horizon. It was going to be another scorcher. A beach day, an ice cream sundae day, and never again would he think of these things without the image of a little girl dancing across the sands, hair flying… It was his job to keep her safe. He had let her down.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket. Phoebe.

  ‘Rob, I’m on my way back to St Ives. I stayed with Yvonne in Exeter last night and I’m on a train now. There’s nothing for me to do in Brighton and I want to be with you.’

  ‘We’re coming back tomorrow. You won’t be here five minutes.’

  ‘Then I’ll use them to help you finish the packing or whatever. I’ll call you when my train’s arriving.’

  He ended the call and gaped out at the ocean again. Today, his love for Phoebe was as dead as his love for everything and everyone – everyone except Mia.

  A bark and his mother’s voice in the kitchen announced the arrival of Dorothy and Scout – that bloody dog… Rob swallowed his rage. He had feelings for Scout too, apparently. He stamped through and flung himself onto a chair.

  His mother handed him an espresso. ‘I’ve found us a B&B for tonight. Rob, we need to get things done. The kitchen still needs packing and the Salvation Army are picking up the furniture today, and the unit in the living room’s still stuffed with the things it’s held since I don’t know when. And you needn’t look at me like that. I don’t have the heart for it either, but it’s not going to pack itself, is it?’

  ‘Phoebe’s coming back today.’

  She came round to his chair and hugged him. ‘Phoebe’s a lovely girl and she loves you, Rob. Don’t push her away.’

  He put his hand over hers. ‘I won’t. I hope.’

  They spent an hour sorting the contents of the living room unit into boxes. And of course, everything he touched held a memory. The piece of jade Mum had bought on holiday once, the silver teapot that was a family heirloom but no one knew where it had come from. Dad’s golf trophies. Even worse was Dorothy’s collection of things Mia had given her – the childishly-painted photo frame with the snap of four-year-old Mia on Santa’s knee, the wobbly pottery bowl Mia’d made her first term at school, and oh, the paintings, all lovingly displayed in a folder and labelled on the back with the date… memories from a small girl’s life.

  Scout was barking in the garden. Rob dived to the back door, cursing his poor mother for leaving it open, and arrived on the patio in time to see Scout’s rear end vanish round the corner of the house. He pulled on trainers and sprinted into the garden next door, grabbed the dog and jogged home again. Ed Seatons’ car was in front of the house; hopefully he hadn’t seen that. A curse on the man for having a back garden covered in fermenting bloody apples. A dog with the runs after eating rotting apples was the last thing they needed, though thankfully, Scout had been sniffing nearer the house. Dogs had no sense; an interesting smell on the ground and off they’d go and get stuck in, knowing full well it was forbidden. He shut Scout into the kitchen and went back to the packing.

  Phoebe’s call came just before lunchtime, and Rob was glad to leave the house and drive to St Ives to pick her up. He stood at the end of the platform, scanning the crowds getting off the train, then spotted her, pulling her weekend case in the distance, her face half-hidden behind huge sunglasses.

  They hugged tightly, not speaking, and Rob kept his arm around her as they went out to the car. She still blamed herself, he could tell; the lines around her mouth and the desperation in her eyes told their own story. All they could hope was that one day, they’d get closure. But that would mean finding a– He thumped the wheel with one hand.

  Scout was the only one who was happy when they arrived back at the house. The dog was pathetically glad to see Phoebe, fussing around her and sticking to her side as she helped Dorothy in the kitchen while Rob carried on in the living room.

  Another half hour, and they were finished. Rob rubbed his aching back. He’d take the unwanted kitchen stuff to the charity shop now, get that out of the way. He loaded the car then ran back inside for his sunspecs, lying on the kitchen table. And of course…

  ‘Rob? Is Scout with you?’ Phoebe called through from the living room.

  ‘No – you’ve been flavour of the month since you arrived. Scout!’ Rob glared around the hallway, then grabbed Scout’s lead. ‘Well, I guess we know where he is.’

  At least Ed Seaton’s car had gone from his front drive. Rob ran up the side of the house, and sure enough, Scout was sniffing along the back wall again. Rob clipped the lead on and pulled the dog back down the driveway.

  ‘That’s you tied up for the duration,’ he said grimly, and Scout wagged his tail in the ingratiating way dogs had when they knew they’d been bad. What the hell was so interesting in that garden, anyway? Apart from the apples, and they didn’t seem to be the attraction.

  Rob’s steps slowed as he went back up their own driveway, an image of Scout sniffing around next door concentrating into sharpness in the very centre of his mind while everything else went fuzzy round the edges. There was something interesting in the Seatons’ back garden. Where he had found Mia’s pendant. He turned to stare at the garden next door, now half-hidden behind the shrubs up the border. The police officer’s voice echoed in his head, ‘She’s not there.’ But something was there. Or had been. Or – was he overthinking this, was grief making him irrational?

  Rob tore inside. ‘Mum! You have a key to the Seatons’, don’t you?’

  Dorothy came out of the kitchen. ‘Yes, it’s in the – oh. It’ll be in a removal box, I expect. I should give it back.’ She stretched her neck to see behind Rob. ‘Has Ed lost his key?’

  ‘No. I want to have a look in that house. Where was the key?’

  ‘In a metal box that once held throat sweeties, but Rob, you can’t–’

  ‘Watch me.’ Rob crashed through the carton he’d filled with stuff from the unit that morning. He’d seen that box; it had been in a drawer with half a dozen old specs cases and Mum’s address book and a pile of last year’s Christmas cards and where the shit was it now? Ed Seaton could come back any minute. Rob lifted the address book and – here it was.

  Dorothy was peering over his shoulder. ‘But that policeman said…’ Her voice trailed away. ‘The key’s not there.’ She poked among the keys in the pastilles box. ‘It had a beige luggage label tied to it. Rob, where can–?’

  Phoebe was standing behind them, her hands clutched under her chin. ‘Did Mia know it was there?’

  Rob thrust the key box at his mother, ran to the hallway and grabbed his toolkit from a waiting removal box. ‘Stay here, both of you. If Ed Seaton co
mes back, phone me right away.’ He sprinted towards the house next door.

  She’s not there…

  And logically, she couldn’t be. But he was going to look anyway.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Friday, 14th August

  The van hire place was a block behind the station, and Nicola pulled her case across the forecourt to the office. The man she’d seen yesterday had been replaced by a much older one.

  ‘You’ll be here for the minivan?’ He peered at the computer screen on the desk.

  Nerves were churning around in Nicola’s stomach. She didn’t enjoy driving at the best of times. ‘That’s right. And I’m glad it’s ‘mini’. I don’t know how people can manoeuvre these huge vehicles you have out there.’

  ‘Most people don’t. You need an HGV licence to drive these,’ he said, winking at her. He plucked a key from a selection hanging on a board behind him, then slid a form over to Nicola. ‘If you’ll sign at the bottom there.’

  Nicola complied, and he tore the top page off the form and handed her the receipt below, his expression changing. ‘Seaton – you wouldn’t be Eddie Seaton’s wife, would you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Nicola, surprised. ‘Do you know him?’

  ‘Aw heck. I’m sorry about your girl – is there any news?’

  Nicola shook her head, thrusting the receipt into her bag.

  He walked outside with her. ‘I hope you find her soon, love. I haven’t seen Eddie for decades, but I used to run boxing classes for kids, and Eddie came along, back in the day. I always felt sorry for him. His dad was such a pushy bloke. Wanted Eddie to be sporty and tough, and the poor kid wasn’t. At first. His dad got his way, though – after a year or two you’d never have recognised Eddie. Turned into a right hard hitter, he did. He left St Ives shortly after Davie went AWOL, though. Give him my regards, huh? Stu Linton.’

  Nicola’s brain was whirring. Boxing? Yet another part of Ed’s life she’d known nothing about. And ‘hard hitter’ – what was that supposed to mean?

  ‘Do you mean he was a troublemaker?’

  Stu stopped beside a white van and heaved her case inside. ‘No, no. He stayed soft inside, I reckon. The toughness was all on the outside. I don’t think he had much of a home life, poor little sod. His mum wasn’t around much and Eddie’s dad was – ambitious, shall we say. It must have been a relief when he left. Last time I saw Eddie was a day or two afterwards, when he was planting an apple tree for his mum coming home. He was happy enough, that day. Told me his dad was never coming back. I didn’t believe him, but it was true. I never laid eyes on the man again. But I’m sure your girl will come home.’

  Nicola shrugged. Planting an apple tree for his mum… It was a nice gesture, but they’d talked about that tree and not a word about him planting it had crossed Ed’s lips. Yet another instance of her husband being incommunicative, and this was all so odd, and so wrong, somehow. She said goodbye, then pulled out her phone. She should call Melanie; Kelly’s aunt should know what was going on. The call went to voicemail, though, and Nicola left a quick message: We need to talk, I’ll call tonight.

  And now she had to make friends with this van. Nicola drove off, her thoughts fixed firmly on getting safely across St Ives and out to Coast Road.

  Rob sped round the side of the house next door, dropped his tool box beside the back door and grabbed the thin sheet of metal he’d used to scrape adhesive off one of his mother’s windows earlier that year. He slid it into the crack between the door and the frame, just above the lock. This kind of thing always looked so effortless on TV. And if it didn’t work pretty quickly, he was going to take hold of his hammer and bust the lock off. Anything to get in.

  He slid the metal downwards. Nothing happened. Fingers shaking with impatience, Rob tried again with the same result. Right. He grabbed the hammer, gave the lock a sharp tap then slid the metal through again. A click, and the door was open. Rob lifted the tool kit and stepped into the same kind of back hall his mother had. The place smelled fusty but that was all – no rotting flesh. His stomach heaved. Get a grip, man. Concentrate. The police had already searched the house, but maybe they’d missed something.

  He opened cupboards, peered in, and went on to the next. Into the kitchen – a mess, but still no dead smell. And nothing but stuff in the cupboards here, too. Rob strode up the room to the living area, but there was no space for a small girl in any of these units and Christ, he was looking for his daughter’s body… His throat closed and a moan escaped. ‘Mia!’ It came out in an unrecognisable moan. Shut up, Rob, and get on with it.

  Upstairs, he worked his way through cupboards and wardrobes. Nothing. What an animal Ed Seaton was, his bedroom stank and the bathroom stank to high heaven too. Kelly’s room was better, the teenage bedroom Mia’d never have. Spare room, nothing. Attic?

  She’s not there. Jim Evans’ voice in his head. He had ‘put his head’ up there, so it must be easily done. Rob pulled the cord on the attic trap door, and a metal ladder descended. Rob thundered up, and Jim was right. She wasn’t there, unless she was under the floorboards. Forget it, man. He was only repeating what the police officer had already done, but he had to see for himself. Downstairs again, quick, quick. Now for the cellar.

  The single bulb illuminating the cellar stairs was pitifully inadequate, and Rob slowed down. He couldn’t afford to break a leg. And if she wasn’t here, then Jim was right and Scout was a bloody stupid dog. Rob wiped sweat from his brow with a shaking hand. A dingy smelly corridor with three doors, like Mum’s. First door, workshop, open cupboards, no Mia. Second door, central heating stuff and storage, no Mia. Third door, small cupboard, no Mia. She wasn’t here.

  ‘Kelly! Someone’s upstairs! I’m scared!’

  A hot whisper breathed into her ear, and Kelly struggled to respond. Was it daytime? It had been dark for so long… She made a massive effort, but her body didn’t respond. She was so hot, and then she was shivering.

  Mia fell silent, cuddling her, and Kelly relaxed back into grey murkiness. Let me sleep. Take all this away.

  The cellar vanished as greyness won out, then she heard the noise. Upstairs. Something banged, then footsteps, swift ones. She held her breath, then relaxed as the footsteps died away. She should do the same, die away. They both should. It would happen soon.

  ‘Is he coming to finish us?’

  Damn him to hell for scaring Mia like this. Kelly opened her mouth, but no answer came. Her throat was choked off with snot and fear and she hadn’t had a drink for so long. It was like being drunk; like the time she had skived off table tennis and gone to the park with those kids and the police had taken her home. This was the same woozy feeling, and the heaviness in her head and her gut was the same as the morning after, back then. God help her, she was going to die before Mia and the poor kid would be so scared. Down, down, let go, Kelly. Let the blackness in.

  Mia was still beside her when Kelly re-emerged from the dark. How long had she been asleep? Or half-dead?

  Footsteps again, nearer, less quick this time. Heavier. Scarier. Hot fear rose in Kelly’s gut, and it cramped. But finished would be better than this… Oh Mum, please let me die quickly.

  The footsteps were close, now. Shuddering breaths and moans; it sounded like an animal in pain. A creak, then a door banged. Not their door. More door sounds. Then – another door, how many bloody doors were down here? A crack of light appeared under their door, and Mia clutched her, pressing her skinny body against Kelly’s. The kid’s teeth were chattering so hard, surely whoever was out there could hear them.

  The light disappeared and a door closed. The footsteps walked away. And darkness fell once more.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Friday, 14th August

  Despair filled his head, and Rob swayed in the Seatons’ hallway, putting a hand on the hall table to steady himself. This had all been for nothing, and the agonising hope was gone, leaving even more agonising despair. He stamped to the back door. He’d searched every r
oom, every cupboard and space–

  He stood still, one hand on the door handle, his fingers tingling. Every room, every cupboard... His mother had no cupboard in the cellar, she had an entire room down there.

  He about-turned and thundered back down to the cellar cupboard, his heartbeat echoing his feet on the stairs. A small compartment, around four metres square floorspace, with wooden walls. He fumbled for the torch on his phone and played the beam up and down the back wall, then flung the stiff and ancient dust sheet hanging there to the side, revealing a door with a lock, but no handle. Panting loudly, his heartbeat throbbing in his ears, Rob played the torch again, up and along a high shelf and – yes! A round metal door handle. And a key… The handle slid into the slot for it, though his hands were shaking so hard he could hardly get the key into the lock. Rob opened the hidden door and stepped into darkness.

  The beam from his phone wasn’t big enough. He could just make out a door on the wall to his left, a broken window at the back, boarded on the outside with cracks of light around the edges, and – Christ almighty–

  ‘Mia!’ He stumbled across the room.

  She was huddled on a mattress, clinging to a still form beside her, and she was shaking. He had to prise her fingers away from – Kelly. Hell on earth.

  ‘Mia. It’s Daddy. I’m here, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.’

  Her arms snaked round his neck and she was clinging to him with arms and legs and he was clinging too; she stank, she was shaking, her hands were freezing but she was alive…

  ‘Daddy.’ Her voice was a tiny whisper.

  Rob sank to the floor, still gripping his child, and reached for his phone. Kelly hadn’t moved, heck, no… Was there a signal, please – one bar.

  For the second time in his life, he tapped out 999. ‘Two patients. One is my daughter Mia Gillan, and Kelly Seaton. Both been missing. Coast Road, St Ives. We need a doctor. Ambulances, really quick – Kelly’s bad. Tell the police.’ He heard the emergency operator’s horrified exclamation, his yell to his colleagues and their answering shouts, then redialled.