Shadow Sands

by Robert Bryndza

  “Can we start with the date it happened, if you can remember?” asked Kate.

  “I’d been out for a night at Hedley House. It was late September in 2009,” said Kirstie. “I was working at the Wild Oak and doing nails on the side, you know, from home. I’d done shit jobs for a few years, and I saved up enough to get my nail kit. You need a UV lamp and all the nail polish costs, plus accessories. It was a lot. I was on unemployment at the same time, thinking I could do nails on the side and build up clients, but some bitch shopped me to the Jobseeker’s. They cut my benefits. It was right when that happened that I went up to Hedley. It was the end of the night, and I was drunk.”

  “Were you there with anyone?”

  Kirstie shook her head.

  “The girls from work said they were going, and I thought I’d see them there, which I did . . . But at the end of the night, everyone was getting off with blokes or had already gone home. I had a fiver in my pocket, and I needed cigarettes. I was living in Ashdean then, and I decided to walk home.”

  “Had you done it before?”

  “Once or twice; loads of people used to do it in the summer when it was hot. It was quite fun cos there was always a crowd going back to Ashdean, but it was really cold for September. I was walking back on the road; quite a few cars passed, but no one stopped. Then this fog came down. I’d been walking on the road so the incoming traffic could see me, like you’re supposed to, but I had to get up on the shoulder because the fog got so thick and the cars were crawling past. Then one of the cars stopped.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know. Some lay-by.”

  “Had you gone past the Shadow Sands reservoir?”

  “I think so. I was slaughtered, and it was now, like, so foggy. I’d fallen down a couple of times, almost ended up in a ditch. And then there was this car, parked up by the side of the road.”

  “What kind of car was it?”

  “It was a pale-colored hatchback. The lights were on inside, and there was an old man in the driver’s seat. He rolled down the window, and he seemed very nice. He was local, had a proper local accent, and he asked if I was mad, walking! I was frozen—all I had on was a skimpy skirt and top. No coat. I remember how warm his car was when he wound down the window—the hot air flowed over me.”

  “What exactly did he look like?”

  “He had on a flat cap, with lots of gray hair coming out from under it, like his hair was getting long and he was due for a cut. He also had a big nose, like a gnome. A bushy beard and mustache. Thick glasses which made his eyes look big. His eyes were an odd color, a blue purple . . .”

  She shifted her chair and looked down at the table, fiddling with her paper coffee cup.

  “Are you okay? Do you need to stop?” asked Kate. Kirstie looked around at the Starbucks. The people were thinning out; a smattering of students remained, working on their laptops, plugged into their earphones.

  “No. I’m okay.”

  “What happened next?”

  “He asked where I was going and if I wanted a lift. He seemed doddery and old and nice. I gave him a fake address, thinking I was so smart and that I’d get him to drop me a few roads from my flat, and I got in beside him, closed the door. He locked the doors. He was quiet for half a minute or so. And I’ll always remember that he turned to me, his voice changed, and he said, ‘Do you want to touch the stars?’

  “He suddenly leaned across and came at me and pushed this bottle up under my nose. Held the back of my head, made me smell it.”

  “What do you think it was? Poppers?”

  “No. Something stronger. PCP, angel dust. I was already drunk, and this just made me feel like I was flying. Everything went whoosh, and I must have passed out. I woke up later in a room.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know . . . It was pitch black . . . ,” she said, her leg now jogging fast and her hands shaking.

  “It’s okay,” said Kate, taking her hands in hers. Kirstie pulled them away. One of her sleeves rode up, and Kate saw scars crisscrossing her wrist. Kirstie pulled her sleeve back down.

  “Have you ever been in a place so dark that it’s the same when you open and close your eyes? Just pitch black. Nothing.”

  Kate thought back to a school trip to France when they had visited a cave and the tour guide switched off the lights for a few seconds. She recalled the fear of that short time in the pitch blackness.

  “Yes.”

  “There was a room with a bed, and then there was a sink in the corner, and I found it had water. I drank from the tap. There was a corridor, and some other rooms, I think. I never saw. I just felt my way around.”

  “How long were you there?”

  “I don’t know. Days. There was a lift at the end of the corridor.”

  “How did you know it was a lift?”

  “I could hear it, that noise a lift makes, and then one day I was feeling my way around and the lift started to come down, and then the doors opened . . .”

  Kirstie had to stop for a moment and take a breath.

  “A man came out of the lift in the dark,” she said.

  “Are you sure it was a man?”

  “He smelled like a man.”

  “A bad smell?” asked Kate.

  Kirstie nodded.

  “Sweaty, stale sweat.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “Not at first. I ran. I fell and hurt myself, and then . . . he hunted me.”

  “Hunted you?”

  “He watched me, followed me. A few times I felt him touch me . . . I let him touch me . . . I thought that might stop him hurting me.”

  “How long did it last?”

  “It felt like hours. Then he made me smell the drugs again, the chemical, and when I woke up, he was gone.”

  “How many times did he do it?”

  “I don’t know, three, four.”

  “Was this over the space of several days, or hours?” asked Kate, thinking that this guy kept his victims for a few days.

  “I don’t know, it felt like days.”

  “How did you escape?”

  “I didn’t. I got really ill with fever and hallucinations, and it was then that he strangled me. I don’t remember all of it, but he trapped me in a corner, and grabbed me by the throat and squeezed, and I passed out. I don’t know if he thought I was dead, but I woke up later inside a car. It was nighttime, and the car was all steamed up inside, and I was wrapped in a sheet. I managed to get out of the car. I remember there was a sign for Shadow Sands campsite. There was this roaring sound from the power plant. He was outside, and he chased me into the water . . .”

  “What did the man look like?”

  “I don’t know. My throat was so swollen. I’d burst blood vessels in my eyes. It was a blur. He was a shape, not tall, not short. I just ran into the water, and then I started to swim.”

  “Did you go from the car to the water? Were there any trees between you and the water?”

  “There was a fence, and there was a hole in it.”

  “Did he follow you to the water?”

  “Yes, but I kept on swimming far out, and then I heard the sound of a boat motor. The water was really cold, but the air was warm, and it made this steam or fog come off the surface of the water. It was really beautiful . . . It sounds stupid, but it made me want to live. It made me want to see the sun come up and feel the sun on my face again, so I kept swimming to the other side. I kept hearing the boat coming closer, but this fog got thicker and hid me.

  “I was surprised when I reached the bank on the other side of the reservoir. There was a place where the tree branches hung low and touched the water. I grabbed hold of one and stayed there. I don’t know how long I lay there. I kept hearing the motorboat circling back and forward, and then it was quiet. I got out of the water and walked through the woods, and when I reached the road, I flagged down a car . . . That was a mistake. Almost as bad as getting into the car in the fog.”

  “Why?”
>
  “The driver was a policeman. He was off duty.”

  “Can you remember his name?” asked Kate.

  “Yeah. Arron Ko.”

  Kate froze with her coffee cup in her hand.

  “Are you sure that’s what his name was?”

  “Yeah. He was Asian. I remember the odd name. He flashed his ID card when we got to the hospital, and the doctors seemed to know who he was. He found a doctor who saw to me straightaway. I was shocked when I saw myself in the mirror. I had these terrible bruises around my neck. My eyes were almost red because I’d burst blood vessels in my eyes. I had a kidney infection. The doctor listened to me, and he was gentle and did some tests, and then I was taken up to a ward and given a bed, and I just fell asleep.”

  At this point Kirstie started to cry, and she wiped her eyes with a couple of napkins.

  “I don’t know how long I was asleep, but when I woke up the next day, I was taken for a wash and given clean clothes by this nurse, and then they put me in an ambulance and told me I was being sectioned. I’d been diagnosed by the doctor as delusional . . . I tried to get away, and I screamed and shouted as best I could. My throat was all fucked up. Then they put me in restraints, and they gave me an injection.”

  “Did you see the policeman again?”

  “No. I woke up in a mental hospital. A secure unit near Birmingham. They pumped me full of drugs, and I lost the plot.”

  “How long were you in the secure unit?”

  “Almost four months. When I got back, I’d lost my flat, and I was put in a bed-and-breakfast until they could find me council accommodation.”

  Kate didn’t know what to say for a moment. She was shocked Kirstie had named Arron Ko.

  “Was there ever an official police report filed with your allegations?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did you go back to the police and make a complaint?”

  Kirstie sat back.

  “Have you listened to what I just told you? A man locked me up, drugged me, and then no one believed me. A fucking bent copper did this to me. I lost everything. You think I’m gonna go trotting back to the police station and make a fucking complaint?”

  “I’m sorry, that was a stupid question,” said Kate.

  Kirstie shook her head and looked at the table.

  “Do you believe me?” she said, looking up at Kate, challenging her.

  “Yes, I do.”

  Kirstie nodded.

  “Good. Cos it’s all true . . . That girl, Magdalena. She went missing five days ago, didn’t she?”

  “Yes.”

  “When the policeman took me to the hospital, I found out that ten days had gone by since the man drugged me in the fog. He kept me for ten days. Are you looking for her?”

  Kate was unprepared for the conversation to move so quickly over to her.

  “I didn’t know that you had been kept prisoner for so long.”

  Kirstie reached out and took Kate’s hand.

  “Promise me you’ll find this Magdalena. I’ve been let down by so many men, the police, the social services, doctors . . . I’ve thought of ending it all so many times. Maybe I haven’t yet cos I was meant to talk to you and tell you my story.”

  Kate nodded.

  “So, do you promise?” asked Kirstie.

  “I promise,” said Kate. Hoping that she could keep that promise.

  30

  After Kate left the office to meet Kirstie, Tristan got a text message from Sarah:

  I’M STAYING AT GARY’S FLAT UNTIL THE WEDDING.

  There was no hello or goodbye and no smiley face emojis. It concerned him that they hadn’t made things up, but they could both do with a bit of space. He left the office and went back to the flat, changed into his running gear, and went for a run along the seafront, past the amusement arcade and out past the other side of Ashdean.

  The run cleared his head, and he came home and took a shower. He got dressed and made spaghetti on toast and then came through to the living room and enjoyed the silence as he ate. He then took out his laptop and started to work on finding the names of the two young women who had been found floating in the reservoir in 1989 and 1991. He dug around, and he found them both: Fiona Harvey and Becky Chard. Both girls were from poor backgrounds; Fiona was described in the newspaper as unemployed, and she grew up in a children’s home. Becky was also unemployed at the time of her disappearance, and she was from a single-parent home.

  He then made a list of all the victims, both missing and found, starting with Magdalena and working backward.

  He was still working on the list when Kate called to say that she had finished her meeting with Kirstie and she was on her way back to Ashdean in the car. He asked if she wanted to come over for something to eat, adding that Sarah wouldn’t be there.

  When Kate arrived at Tristan’s flat, he made her some tea and toast.

  “What’s with the boxes?” she asked when she sat on the sofa with her plate.

  “It’s the duty-free booze for Sarah’s wedding . . . Oh. Shit. Does it bother you?”

  Tristan saw how Kate looked at the boxes of Smirnoff vodka and Teacher’s whisky, almost with longing.

  “Do you have any iced tea?” she asked.

  “I think I’ve got a bottle of Lipton iced tea,” he said. He hurried to the kitchen and found a juice tumbler, a little ice, and he filled up the glass. He topped it off with a slice of lemon, just the way he’d seen her do it at home. She looked relieved and grateful when he presented her with the glass.

  “You are a lifesaver,” she said, taking a big gulp. Kate ate some of her toast, and in between mouthfuls she recounted Kirstie’s story.

  “Arron Ko? Jesus,” said Tristan. “Do you think she made a mistake?”

  “How many senior Asian police officers are there in Devon and Cornwall? There might be more now, but this was a few years back,” said Kate.

  “This means that we can’t trust Henry Ko?”

  “No.”

  “And this bloke kept Kirstie for ten days in the dark?” said Tristan.

  Kate nodded and drank more iced tea.

  “It’s five days since Magdalena went missing,” she said.

  “Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

  “I’ve interviewed a lot of criminals and a lot of victims of crime. If she was lying, she’s a good liar.”

  “But remember what Rachel from the pub said: she is a good liar.”

  “But this is different from lying about having a new car . . . Is there any more iced tea?” asked Kate. Tristan took her glass and topped it up. When he came back into the living room, she was looking at the list he’d made.

  Magdalena Rossi—(professor) went missing 14/10/2012

  Simon Kendal—(student) body found in reservoir 30/08/2012

  Sally-Ann Cobbs—(cleaner) went missing late November 2009

  Ulrich Mazur—(odd-job man) went missing between 20–31 October 2008

  Fiona Harvey—(unemployed) body found in the reservoir 3/3/1991

  Peter Fishwick—(9 y/old) drowned in reservoir, during day, dad tried to revive August 1990

  Becky Chard—(unemployed) body found in the reservoir 11/11/1989

  She took the glass of iced tea from him and gulped half of it down and closed her eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath. Her hands were shaking.

  “Everything okay?” he asked. Kate opened her eyes.

  “Yeah. I think I’m just tired and run-down . . .” She looked at the list again. “Peter Fishwick should be discounted. His death was a terrible accident. He drowned in front of his parents . . .” Tristan crossed Peter Fishwick off the list. “Simon’s death was too quick for whoever is doing this, abducting, if that’s what’s happening. I found his body two days after he’d gone missing. He’d only been dead for a day or more, so it’s not following the same pattern.”

  “What’s the pattern?”

  Kate clutched her glass in both hands and took a deep breath.


  “Low-income, unemployed people with little or no family. No one to miss them . . .”

  “But that pattern doesn’t work for Magdalena. She’s a lecturer, well off. And if whoever is doing this is going for a certain type of person, then he would need to get to know them first. Magdalena is new to Ashdean and the UK . . . I thought about the farmer, Barry Lewis, the one who posted the paw print on Facebook. I looked him up, and he’s only been in the UK for eighteen months. He had a farm in Auckland.”

  Kate nodded. She went to take another sip of her drink, but the glass was empty.

  “Sit down,” said Tristan, “I’ll get you a top-up.”

  He took her glass and went through to the kitchen. He didn’t want to make a fuss of Kate getting the shakes, but it concerned him. Was she experiencing some kind of withdrawal? Had she fallen off the wagon? He made her another drink and took it back through.

  “I’ve run out of ice, I’m afraid,” he said. Kate was sitting on the sofa with her head tipped back, rubbing at her eyes.

  “I think I’m just tired, low blood sugar,” she said. “It would have been a fluke if it was the farmer. We could have solved the case, found Magdalena, and . . . I don’t know . . . moved on.”

  Moved on to where? thought Tristan. When she spoke to Kirstie, it had given them a breakthrough. She’d named Arron Ko and implicated a senior police officer mixed up with it all.

  “I did a bit more research when you were with Kirstie,” he ventured.

  “Good, what did you find?” asked Kate, taking another big gulp of her iced tea.

  “I looked into the Right to Roam Alliance, and as far as I can see, they’ve disbanded. However, the guy who ran it, Ted Clough, also worked at the Shadow Sands reservoir, running the maintenance boats. He got fired a few years ago. He tried to sue the company for wrongful termination, and he lost the case. I think we should try and talk to him. He may have seen something during his time working the reservoir.”

  Kate nodded and rubbed her eyes. Tristan thought she looked so pale. “I can message him. He’s on Facebook,” he said.

  “Yeah. It’s worth a shot,” she said. She put down her glass and gathered up her things.