The Scorched Earth

by Rachael Blok

  The buzzing is loud now, and the heat, as heavy as it has been for the last thirty days, becomes oppressive. It weaves around her, threading itself, kneading her legs, her arms. Ana just can’t stand it any more. Her knees are soft, and the picture of the DI, standing at the entrance to the pub, becomes blue, and then a hazy grey, and then black.

  And then nothing.

  61

  Friday 29th June

  MAARTEN

  ‘No sign?’ Maarten asks as Adrika returns.

  ‘Ana Seabrook has nothing. She said he left.’

  ‘Sunny has his car abandoned nearby, I’ve sent him out with a team to follow up searching the local area. He’s our number-one suspect now. We need to find him.’ Maarten is at the board ticking, crossing, making notes. ‘We need to find Thurbridge and find the identity of whoever rented the shed. As we have identified Thurbridge as the cyclist, we’re expecting them both to be the same person, but then we can charge him. Particularly as we have DNA from the shed. But to do all this, we need him.’

  He turns, feeling warm even with the air con. This heat has reached baking point. Something will break soon. The seat belt had burned his neck this morning as he’d got in the car. The country is browning, melting, wilting and they need rain soon.

  Adrika sits behind her desk. She begins saying, ‘The graveyard, there was something,’ but a door bangs at the far end of the room, and Maarten hears the clip of heels.

  ‘I’ve got permission to work here for a couple of days. We’re quiet up in Norfolk and the Super’s nervous about PR since your find in the shed.’ It’s Harper, sweeping in. She drops her bag on the desk next to Adrika, and Adrika smiles at her.

  ‘Great. Can I leave you two to run this for an hour? I need to prepare quickly for the press conference.’ Maarten checks his watch. ‘Adrika, check in with Sunny, and let me know the moment we hear anything.’

  Nodding, Adrika smiles. ‘Of course.’

  Is it just him, full of gratitude that Liv has come home and brimming with love at her being safe again, that sees Adrika’s smile much warmer than it has been? Her eyes are bright. As he walks towards his office, he sees Harper pull up a chair and put her hand on Adrika’s arm. She says something, and he hears Adrika laugh as he closes the office door, leaning in to Harper.

  This heat has burned something away between them. It hasn’t taken the life out of everything.

  *

  The press release is read and rehearsed, containing an update on Jack Thurbridge, communicating his disappearance. He’s almost at the doors to the stairs when Adrika shouts across the room, ‘Sir, we’ve had Ana Seabrook on the phone. The desk sergeant’s on the line now.’

  ‘Put it through, would you?’ he says, picking up the nearest phone. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Ana Seabrook is feeling better, and she wanted to let us know that when Thurbridge was at their house the other day, she had felt watched that morning.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Maarten says, replacing the phone. He thinks for a second. ‘Adrika? I’m doing this press conference quickly, then I’ll head out to Ayot. Ana Seabrook’s remembered something. The car was near there so I’ll coordinate the search for Thurbridge with Sunny after I’ve spoken with her.’

  ‘We’re close – I think we’ll have news soon.’

  ‘Good work.’ He turns as Harper bends to Adrika, her head near.

  They’re the two best officers he’s got. They will sort this, he can feel it in his bones.

  62

  Friday 29th June

  MAARTEN

  The road narrows as Maarten approaches Ayot, and the tips of the trees meet over the passageway, like a bridal arch. The sunlight is filtered through the leaves. Blackberries have started to sprout early. It’s the heat, Liv had said. It was the heat signalling an early harvest. The trees in the back of his garden have brought the first apples to fruit. Nothing is moving as it should. This heatwave has disturbed the natural order.

  He parks his car out on the road by the pub. A handful of press are gathered around the house. Someone flashes a camera as he makes his way through. Maisie Seabrook stands guard at the entrance to the gravel car park, not letting anyone past. She steps aside to let him go by. ‘They arrived earlier. That video of Ana being pulled off the tracks has gone viral. Fucking leeches.’

  He smiles as he slips through, saying, ‘Good work.’ Ana Seabrook is in good hands.

  She is waiting for him by the door to the pub garden. She looks drained, in running shorts and one of those sleeveless mesh sports tops, falling in scoops under the arms. She wears a chunky running watch, the kind he uses when he goes out on his bike. Her face is washed clean, paler.

  As the sun becomes intense, as the heat from the walls threatens to topple him, he nods quickly.

  ‘Let’s go inside,’ he says.

  Her movements are jerky, and she pushes her fingers across her brow repeatedly, smoothing tight new furrows.

  ‘You told the station you’d been watched. Was it Thurbridge?’ he asks. They stand by the bar. The blinds are lowered and it’s stifling. He feels the walls closing in.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure there was someone watching me, and then Jack came to visit. It could easily have been him. I didn’t really believe it was him at the time. He’s always seemed so nice…’ She drifts off, and her fingers rub her brow again. There are red marks appearing, and like when he watches Sanne scratching her eczema, he has the urge to lift her hand away from her skin.

  ‘I’m telling you this, but it’s not for general interest – Ben has confirmed that Jack Thurbridge was the cyclist.’

  ‘Christ!’ She looks ashen, leans back against the bar. ‘I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Look, I’m going to have to go. We’re searching for him now, but this is the last place he was seen coming. You’re the last person to see him.’

  Maarten’s phone buzzes. He answers, swinging round as some gesture of privacy.

  ‘It’s A. Miller!’ Adrika’s voice vibrates with excitement down the phone. ‘We’ve got the bank account from which the payments were made and found a link to an A. Miller. We had to go through a few steps to find it. The first name on the account was John Smith, but we managed to follow the money put into the account, and that came from A. Miller. It took some finding – Harper made the final leap. Jack Thurbridge must be Andy Miller.’

  Maarten glances at Ana, unwilling to share this just yet. She would have mentioned it a while ago if she’d recognised him, but it wouldn’t take too much to change your adult identity from your childhood one. Andy Miller’s name has come up more than once.

  ‘Adrika, this is great work. We need to find him. Meet me with Sunny? I’m leaving now. Can you send Harper to The Frog? She knows Ana Seabrook well and it would be useful to get a formal statement from her, now she’s feeling better.’

  If Andy Miller is Jack Thurbridge, then it all makes sense.

  He turns back to Ana, who is ashen against the bar. She looks like she might faint again. He feels a stab of sympathy for her. ‘You know Harper Carroll well, don’t you? She’s on her way here to be with you. I’ll need to check on the search so I’m going to have to leave but she’ll take your full statement. You’re going to be safe now, Ana. We’re going to find him.’

  She nods. Brave, he thinks as he makes his way to the door. Trusting the truth and your instincts in the face of such a campaign of terror is as brave as you get.

  What will be uncovered today, before the sun cools and the moon brings its gentle relief?

  *

  On his way to the car, he glances at the Palladian church across the field.

  Caitlin Miller. Caitlin Miller. That name. The graveyard.

  The image of a headstone: ‘Beloved daughter and sister.’

  There’s something else. What had Adrika said? She’d read it out on the very first day. She had died on the day they had uncovered the body, ten years ago, but the same day. And Adrika had remarked upon the coincidence.

  Ca
itlin. Katie.

  ‘Adrika?’ He picks up his car keys as he speaks into the phone. ‘That gravestone we saw on the first day, Caitlin Miller. You were going to tell me something about the graveyard earlier. What was it? Was it to do with Caitlin Miller?’

  ‘She was in school with Ana Seabrook, sir. And you remember Ben Fenton told us about Andy Miller, who he suspected had tried it on with Ana in some way? He was her brother.’

  *

  They are back near the Palladian church, on one of the walking routes.

  ‘Over here!’

  Maarten runs over to where Sunny is standing.

  ‘It’s his car keys. He’s dropped his car keys. He must have come down here. He must have left his car and run for it.’

  Maarten looks down at the keys. He can feel the excitement in the team. He might not be far.

  His phone buzzes. ‘Yes?’ he says, answering.

  ‘Sir, we’ve got some more CCTV in. It shows Thurbridge swerving to avoid a press van, then pulling off the main road just out of Ayot. He must have been spooked, gone to ground.’

  ‘Brilliant.’ Maarten looks down the path, the ground hard, and the sun is fierce. ‘Let’s move quickly. He could easily have hitch-hiked, or walked to the nearest station. If he’s still around here we’ll have to be fast. Can you get me a list of hotels and B&Bs around here and send it over?’

  ‘On it.’

  Maarten looks out across the sparse yellowed grass and gestures ahead. ‘He’s somewhere down here. If he’s left the road, he must have gone down here. Maybe he thinks he can hide out and get away once the attention has died down.’ He takes a step forward, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun. There’s a farmhouse further ahead, and a cluster of cottages. ‘Adrika’s sending a list through. Can you start door-knocking? He might have found somewhere empty. Check no one’s away on holiday in those cottages, and get the farm buildings checked. If he’s panicking, he could be anywhere. We need DNA confirmation before we charge him. Make sure you keep it calm.’

  Maarten is on the phone to the Super, under the shade of a tree, when the shout comes.

  ‘Got him, sir! He’d broken into an empty cottage, claims he’s innocent but was hiding from the press. He’d seen your statement, knew he was chief suspect. He’s in a bit of a state.’

  Telling the Super he’ll update him soon, Maarten pockets his phone and shouts back, ‘Good work. Get him to the station. Make sure you get him checked by a doctor – dehydration et cetera. We’ll interview him soon. Can you let the station know you’re on your way?’

  Maarten leans back against the tree. The shade is a welcome relief. It might be almost finished.

  The sun burns in the empty sky, but there are clouds appearing too. There might be relief all round.

  63

  Friday 29th June

  BEN

  The cyclist. They’ve found him.

  But there’s something else. It’s niggling away at him. What is it?

  That face. There’s something about that face.

  What was it? What was it about the photo?

  Fuck. But can it be him? Surely he had brown hair, not blond.

  It was him.

  It is definitely him.

  He bangs on the cell door. ‘Hello? Hello?’

  ‘What’s up?’ It’s Mr Burke. ‘Kiz gone under again?’ He looks behind Ben, into the cell.

  ‘No, I’ve remembered something. The police who were here. They showed me a photo, and I’ve remembered something.’

  Burke tips his head to the side. ‘Now, now, Benny. Not like you to cause a scene. You asking me to get the police back up here? You know that will take time.’

  ‘Can I just speak to him? To the officer who was here? Could you please just let him know? I’m not messing around. I know what it looks like. Wanting special attention, wanting to get out of my pad for a few hours, get some…’ He shakes his head. ‘Please, Mr Burke.’ Desperation now. ‘What we said. Remember. Please.’

  Burke turns round slowly. Ben knows he’s suggested he has something to share. Of course he knows how Macca gets the stuff in. They all know. His sister soaks the pages of the magazines in spice, then she brings them in. Macca sells them like candy in a playground. The young uniform turns a blind eye, doesn’t get the magazine checked like all the reading material is supposed to be checked. If he tells Burke, he’s dead in here. Or maybe this gets him out.

  ‘OK, Benny. As you’re asking. I’ll see what I can do.’

  The slow gait of the retreating man stirs Ben. Makes him aware he needs to throw the watching inmates off the scent. They need to know it’s about the case. It can’t seem like grassing.

  ‘It’s important! About the photo they brought!’

  Burke lifts a hand to show he’s heard, but doesn’t hurry.

  Macca is nearby, shouts out. ‘Look at ’im! Knows something, does he. Needs a bit of guard time. Aye aye.’

  Ben spins, stands with his back flat to the wall. Eyes closed.

  He’s sure. The cyclist is Andy Miller from school. He’d bet his freedom on it – bet his life.

  64

  Two Years Earlier

  June

  LEO

  ‘Christ,’ says the cyclist, extending a hand. ‘Ow, shit. I came off good and proper.’ His accent has a twang and Leo takes his hand, helping him up.

  Leo had been walking out to get another beer when he’d seen the bike tip and had run down to help. The man had still been crumpled in a heap when Leo had reached the coastal path.

  ‘That was a bad one. Bike OK?’ he asks as the man rises.

  ‘Think so.’ He lifts it and drops it down on the tyres, looking at the wheels, spinning the back one round. ‘Yeah, fine. I’ll just catch my breath for a minute then I should be OK to head on. You walking the path? Lucky for me.’

  Leo shakes his head, gesturing up the bank. ‘Camping.’

  The cyclist looks up. ‘Any chance you’ve got some water? I’m out.’

  Leo hesitates for a second. It’s not what Ben or he needs right now, but then again, a chat with a stranger for a few minutes might help break the ice. Smooth things over.

  ‘I can go one better. My brother’s up there too. Come for a beer?’

  ‘If you’re sure? I’m Matt, by the way.’

  ‘Leo, and my brother is Ben. Come on, we’re just up here.’

  Scrambling up the bank, Leo snags his hand on a branch and it stings. He sees a touch of blood, and as they arrive at the flat site, he sucks the edge of his hand before reaching into the cooler for a few bottles.

  ‘Ben!’ he calls. ‘We’ve got company.’

  Ben emerges, looking anything but happy to see Matt, but he quickly smiles and heads out to join them. Leo throws himself down on the ground and looks across the sea at the falling sun.

  ‘You’re cycling late,’ he says.

  Matt takes off his helmet, laying it by his side, and takes a drink. ‘Yeah, mate. I got a flat further back, which set me back about half an hour. Not got long to go now. I told my buddies to head off without me. They’re waiting at a pub further down the track. We’ve got some rooms booked for the night. Not roughing it exactly.’

  Leo smiles, taking a swallow. He’s starting to regret inviting this stranger up to have a drink. Ben is quiet, and he thinks of the things he wants to say. Perversely, he’s pleased he’s finally told him about his night with Ana. He’d never liked keeping secrets from Ben.

  Ben smiles, nodding at the track. ‘Nice bike.’

  ‘She’s not bad. Check this out,’ Matt says, holding out a camera. ‘Got some great shots earlier. My new helmet camera: new toy. Here, let me hold your beer.’ He hands the camera to Ben, who passes him his beer.

  Leo leans in to look. The shots are crystal. ‘It’s a Garmin?’ he asks.

  Matt nods. ‘Yeah, I looked at GoPro, I think when you’re going top of the range there’s not much in it.’

  Leo tunes out, tired. He fin
ishes his beer quickly, really regretting asking Matt up. There’s some discussion of cameras, Matt mentions his mates, his sister. Ben had bought a new fishing knife for the trip, but they’ve not fished yet. Leo uses it to carve off a hunk of soft white cheese, laying it on a large wooden board, smearing it over some French bread. He tears off more chunks and hands it round.

  The sky sits like a dark velvet curtain, suspended above them, and the sea is still. Even the flies are starting to disappear and Leo’s at the point when he’s about to say he’s turning in when Matt stands and offers a thanks. ‘Best head off,’ he says. ‘Thanks for the drink. It was good to rest up for half an hour. I’ll be off.’

  He moves quickly, lifting his arm and heading down the bank.

  Ben rubs his head with his hand, the beginnings of a headache. He reaches into the nearby bag and pulls out a sharing bag of crisps. ‘Chips?’ he says, smiling and offering the bag to Leo.

  It’s his piss-take of Leo’s Americanisms and Leo smiles. It’s a peace offering.

  It’s not going to be easy. But maybe it will be OK.

  65

  Friday 29th June

  BEN

  The water from the shower falls hard on Ben’s head. Even in the shower he sweats, the heat like an oven today. He feels its press, swamping him. He tips his head forward, touching his forehead to the stainless steel, feeling the water on his neck.

  He needs to let the police know. The man in the middle of the photo… It’s been ticking over in his brain, but it’s landed like a plane on fire, zinging.

  ‘Come on, lads. Speed it up.’ The guard’s shout is loud, but Ben hears a cry at the end of it. A yelp.

  ‘Oi, stop that!’ The guard’s voice is angry now, has an edge to it. He’s scared, Ben thinks. And the room takes on an energy that is familiar. And makes him tremble.