The Missing Twin

by Alex Day

  Edie shoved her hands into her pockets. Her right hand closed around the card and corkscrew. She had to get out without him seeing what she had with her. She didn’t even know why she’d taken the card now but she couldn’t confess to the theft.

  ‘Anyway, I know where I’m not wanted. I’ll see you later, perhaps.’

  Vuk didn’t seem to be listening. The coffee machine gurgled and spluttered into life.

  ‘Bye then.’ Edie glided nonchalantly through the sterile room to the French windows. She was glad she hadn’t had any more of the vodka. The idea that she might get the truth out of Vuk evaporated in all its absurdity in the same way the ridiculous notions she had once had of improving his living quarters with interior decoration had done. She tried the door. Remembered that she had watched Vuk lock it.

  ‘Wait.’

  She turned and stopped, not going towards him.

  ‘Come back.’ His voice was low, not raised at all, but what he had said was still an order not a request.

  She could refuse to obey, walk on, walk away, try to get to the front door instead. But that would look suspicious; she never walked away from Vuk. If she went back to him, though – what would she say if he challenged her? Searched her pockets? Demanded to know how long she had been in the cabin without him, and what she had been doing?

  Slowly, she returned to him, her flip-flops slapping lazily against her heels. She moved as provocatively as she could, all swaying hips and thrusting tits. Best if he believed her mind was empty of anything but her fixation on him. She sat down and watched as he drank the vodka, seeming to have forgotten both about the percolating coffee and the fact that he didn’t do daytime drinking. Draining his glass, he handed the other to her.

  ‘Aren’t you joining me? You made it, after all.’

  She took a sip, filling her mouth with the not quite melted ice cubes to make it look as if she had drunk more than she had. She needed to keep a clear head.

  ‘Get undressed.’

  Vuk’s face was impassive as he stared at her.

  The card in her pocket felt huge and conspicuous. If she dropped her shorts to the floor it might fall out. And anyway the thought of having sex with him left her feeling cold in a way she could never have imagined it would.

  ‘I just need the loo. Back in a mo.’

  Fleeing to the bathroom, she locked herself in. Her eyes fell on the window. She could climb out and run away, use it for escape the same way she had used it for ingress only a few days ago. She reached up to open it, but no matter how hard she wrenched on the handle, it did not budge. Vuk had locked it and removed the key.

  Edie sat on the toilet and peed, playing for time, her mind racing.

  A sharp knock on the door made her start, her heart skipping a beat.

  ‘Edie, what are you doing?’

  She flushed the toilet. She waited until the cistern had emptied and she had heard the last gurgling sounds of it refilling itself. Fuck. This was not a good idea. Keeping Vuk waiting like this would only wind him up, make him angry and more likely to question her about what she had been doing.

  Slowly, she opened the door. Her way was completely blocked by Vuk’s huge frame, filling the threshold. Edie suppressed a shriek of shock and surprise. Before she had time to think or move, his hands were on her shorts waistband, undoing the button, unzipping the zip. They dropped to the ground, as Edie tried to stick her toes high in the air to break their fall and protect her phone in the back pocket.

  Edie felt as if she were watching from a distance as Vuk undressed her. Trancelike, she observed him removing her knickers, her bra and her top. The stirrings of physical desire that she had always felt towards him fought with the revulsion she was beginning to feel against someone she was sure was lying to her and had been for some time. She thought of Laura. The best chance she had of getting to the bottom of the secrets that were mounting up around her disappearance was to keep Vuk on side, give nothing away.

  Vuk led her into the bedroom, pushed her onto the bed and immediately entered her, thrusting into her so violently that she gave a small, involuntary moan. She had not even had time to protest, to say she wasn’t in the mood.

  ‘Is something the matter, pretty one?’ Vuk’s voice rasped in her ear, his breath hot and damp. ‘You said you only came for me. So that’s what you’re getting.’

  His hands clasped her head, fingers twisting uncomfortably through her hair. Her scalp burnt. She tried to look into his eyes, as if by doing that she might be able to read his mind. But he kept them closed.

  He had had a haircut and his thick, dark hair was bordered by a line of freshly exposed, paler skin. It made him look younger, less intimidating; a look that belied what Edie was increasingly beginning to believe.

  He came, grunted something incomprehensible and jumped up, his huge bare feet landing on the tiled floor with a loud slap. He disappeared into the bathroom. Trepidation gnawed at Edie’s stomach. Her clothes were in there, her phone. The corkscrew in her pocket, and the fake ID card. Please don’t find it, she pleaded internally.

  A sudden buzzing noise and vibration amongst the tumbled bed covers indicated a call to Vuk’s phone. Edie leant over and picked it up. The message showed a number but no name and was written in Greek. She could make neither head nor tail of it. She tossed the phone back on the bed covers. Immediately, it buzzed once more. Another message had come through. Edie picked it back up again, but this time she continued to stare, transfixed, at the screen. She could not decipher the words but she recognised the number, she was sure. She read it out to herself in her head, over and again. Slowly, it dawned on her. She needed her phone to check her theory.

  She tried the bathroom door. Locked.

  ‘Sorry,’ she called out, gaily. ‘Just need the loo when you’re done.’ Vuk would wonder what was wrong with her bladder, going to the toilet so often, but who cared. What did matter was whether he was looking through her stuff.

  She bent down to peek through the keyhole. The bathroom was hazy with steam through which she could see nothing at all.

  The smack on her head sent her flying backwards onto the bed. Pain brought tears to her eyes and set stars dancing before them. For a moment she wasn’t sure exactly what had happened and then, as the emergent Vuk stood before her, his rippling torso sprinkled with water droplets that shone like crystal in the light that shafted through the window, she realised that she had been in the way when he had opened the bathroom door, her forehead smashed by the door knob.

  Fighting the searing agony, she darted between Vuk and the door jamb and sped into the bathroom, pulling the door hurriedly shut behind her. She studied the paltry pile of garments huddled on the tiled floor. Was they all as she had left them? She couldn’t recall.

  She picked up her bra. Her phone was underneath; silent, darkened screen reflecting the single ceiling light. It had been in her pocket, she was sure, unless it had fallen out. She put on her underwear and T-shirt. Nausea rose in her stomach and into her throat as she reached for her shorts. They felt light and insubstantial. She pushed her hand into the pocket. The corkscrew was there. A piece of scrap paper and a hair band, wedged right in the corner. But no ID card.

  Edie sank onto the toilet seat and put her head in her hands. He’d found it and taken it. He had known it was there. Somehow, he had got the French windows open without her hearing and stood there watching her, had seen her rummaging in the freezer, opening the container, examining the contents. Removing the forgery – for that was surely what it was – and secreting it in her pocket.

  Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  She remembered the text message she’d just seen and the number. Hurriedly, she entered her pass code into her phone. She scrolled down the messages to the ones sent by Laura. The number of the second one she did not recognise. But the first one – as she had thought, it was the number that had just appeared on Vuk’s phone. There was only one conclusion to come to. Vuk had some connection with the person who had
sent one of the texts that purported to be from Laura. She stared at the screen, lost in thought.

  The door creaked slowly open. She’d forgotten to lock it. Vuk’s two huge feet appeared before her. Her stomach turned over again as she raised her eyes to his. He smiled. There was a long pause. Edie had lost the power of speech, physically couldn’t make her mouth work.

  ‘It must be something interesting.’ He indicated towards the mobile in her hand. ‘Another boyfriend, maybe.’

  Soundlessly, Edie shook her head. She gulped.

  ‘No,’ she blurted out, too fast and too loud. ‘No. Ha, ha.’ She forced herself to regulate her voice, to make it sound light and breezy as a spring day.

  ‘You know you’re the only one for me, honey.’ She stood up. He was right in front of her, blocking her way. All she could see was the hair on his chest and tanned skin beneath.

  She began to whistle, as if that would somehow lighten the atmosphere. She had always been proud of the fact that she could whistle and Laura couldn’t. Hours and hours of practice as a child had perfected her technique. Greensleeves was her best number, once she’d even recorded it and used it as the ring tone on her phone. Such trivialities seemed light years away now.

  Vuk’s phone rang, loud and insistent.

  ‘Better get that,’ Edie cried out, making as if to move forward even though there was absolutely nowhere she could go with the bulk of Vuk between her and the door. There was a heart-stopping moment of silence in between rings. And then Vuk reeled around and into the bedroom, scooping up his phone and barking into it.

  Edie seized her chance and fled.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Edie

  Edie’s feet were sore by the time she reached her room; she’d left her flip-flops behind in her rush to get away. The ground was hot, and although it looked smooth it was in fact covered in a myriad of tiny stones, sticks and twigs that were sharp as thorns. She delved under the bed to find her trainers, untouched since she had got there, put them on, snatched up the scooter key and was outside again in moments. She was sure she was being followed, constantly felt the ominous presence of someone behind, just beyond her shoulder. She couldn’t stop to look. If someone was after her, wanted to murder her for what she now knew, they’d have to catch her first.

  Now, at last, she had ‘evidence’ of a ‘crime’; enough for the police to have to take notice of her, to take her seriously, whether it had anything to do with Laura or not. Surely this they couldn’t overlook? And really – corruption? Edie suddenly doubted it. Vuk had just been trying to put her off the scent, to stop her doing what he dreaded. But getting the sodding evidence of the sodding crime had taken too long and she might not make it to the police station before it closed for the day.

  The heat was deadening, a blanket that enveloped and stifled, making it hard to see, to think. The olive trees were still as stone, not the slightest hint of a breeze ruffling their silver-grey leaves. Edie wanted to shake off the suffocating pressure that weighed down on her, the unfathomable secrets that surrounded and enmeshed her. There seemed little option now but to think Vuk, amidst all the dodgy goings-on, was involved with the disappearance of Laura, that he was neither Edie’s saviour nor her protector but her enemy, along with everyone else.

  He’d tripped her at the gorge, she was sure now, but of course set it up so no one could think it anything other than an accident, making sure that Zayn had seen, and commented on, her trailing Converse shoelace. She was sure Zayn was in on it all as well as the two of them had sandwiched her between them – but Zayn must have been the one to grab her arm and pull her back, so that didn’t make sense. Shit! She couldn’t make head or tail of it. Perhaps Zayn just hadn’t had the nerve to see Vuk’s plan through?

  The scooter was red hot. Its cheap plastic seat burned her thighs when she climbed onto it. Ivana had had the fault fixed for her; she hadn’t bothered to find out what had been the problem, but it was back up and running now. She backed out of her improvised parking place and started the engine. It was almost out of fuel. She must fill up somewhere but she’d do that after the police station. The rush of wind as she sped down the track that joined the tarmac road out of the resort sent her hair flying around her face, sticking to her clammy cheeks and forehead. She’d forgotten her helmet but she wasn’t going to go back for it.

  She arrived, sweating and flustered, at the police station in town at ten past six. The doors were firmly locked. Fuck! At night time, responsibility for law and order was transferred to a much bigger station in the large town about half an hour down the coast. Should she go there? Perhaps, but first she needed fuel. She’d take the long route, stopping at a garage on the way, and think it through whilst riding. Some head space in the serene beauty of the bay might help her see straight, calm her down a bit. Remounting the scooter and checking the gauge, she reckoned she’d have just enough petrol for this plan to work.

  It didn’t matter how many times she traversed the narrow road that hugged the seashore bend for bend, inlet for inlet, she always saw things she’d never noticed before, and this evening was just the same, despite her frazzled state of mind. Another ruin, ripe for renovation, ivy and vines clinging to the crumbling walls and covering the windows, inside which some fairytale princess might languish. A tiny chapel nestled between houses, where sea-faring families would have prayed and sung for their captain’s safe return. It was all enchanting, and made so much more so in contrast to the evil that Edie felt was lurking on the resort.

  This evening, the old stone houses basked in the last rays of the sun and the road was quiet, most people still seeking refuge from the heat inside. Soon the sun would disappear behind the mountains, giving welcome relief and bringing everyone forth. Whole families would jump into the water and stay there, bobbing up and down, chatting and joking just as if they were sitting around a table, sometimes for hours at a time.

  How Edie wished she were one of those people now, enjoying the summer, worries and cares set aside. She wasn’t cut out to be an adventurer, still less a hero. She didn’t want to uncover crime or detect misdeeds. All she had ever wanted was to find Laura.

  She took the corner where the hidden driveway led up to some Russian oligarch’s lair, and then sped up where the road straightened out for a few metres. There was a car behind her that had been there since she’d left town, waiting for a chance to overtake in a patient manner that was uncharacteristic in these parts. Must be an unusually timid tourist. Edie pulled as far over to the right as she dared, given that there was no wall separating sea from road, and decelerated. The car did not pass. Her mirrors, small and smudged with a zillion sweaty fingerprints, did not allow her much of a view. All she could see was a small, dark coloured vehicle, headlights on as was the law here at any time of day or night. The car dropped back a bit. Definitely an exceedingly cautious vacationer. There were those who were too intimidated by the narrow winding road that was flanked on one side by the water and the other by houses and a deep, narrow drainage canal to ever overtake anything, even a tiny 500CC scooter. She sped up again. The car increased its speed, also.

  Without indicating, Edie veered suddenly to the right, into a small parking spot between a konoba restaurant and a rusty vintage camper van. In one almost seamless motion she cut the engine, got off the scooter and walked to the edge of the concrete pier. Standing facing the water, she angled her body so that she could still see the road. She waited for the black car to sweep by. It didn’t.

  Slowly, she turned her body in a full circle. The car, engine idling, had pulled up behind the scooter. Edie couldn’t see if there was anyone inside but the headlamps were off, indicating it was intending to stay awhile.

  Just going slowly because they were looking for somewhere for dinner, Edie reassured herself. It didn’t work. Her brain froze. So much for thinking things through. Fear had blinded her ability to think anything. She couldn’t get back on the scooter because the car was blocking it. If she tried to walk anywhere
, she could be followed. Looking out over the mirror-flat water, it seemed to represent the only option. Slipping out of her clothes and shoes, she piled them in a heap by the iron steps and then descended gracefully into the bay. Diving beneath the surface, she swam far out from the shore and surfaced to see, at a distance, the waiter putting a match to the candles on the tables of the rapidly busying restaurant. The normality of the action made her want to cry.

  Further down the bay were two huge cruise ships which, with all their lights ablaze, resembled giant glowing water beetles. Behind them, the illuminated walls of the old town were like a daisy chain that had been casually dropped onto the precipitous hillside. And on the waterside, she could no longer make out the squat shape of the black car. Thank God for that. It had probably just been tourists stopping to admire the view, after all. She was going crazy with all the stress. Anyway, the car was gone, thank goodness, and it was safe to get out of the water.

  Back on land and dripping wet, Edie helped herself to a handful of paper napkins from a dispenser on the table nearest to her and mopped herself down a bit. She put her shorts and T-shirt back on over her sodden bikini. Hunger made her stomach growl but she ignored it. The scooter fuel dial didn’t seem to have changed much since she left the resort but Edie knew it was unreliable and often inaccurate. It would probably just about get her to the garage. She hoped so, anyway. She manoeuvred it backwards, carefully avoiding the tree trunk, waste bin, signpost and camper van. She started the engine, flicked on the lights and set off.

  Focusing on navigating the increasingly busy road, filling up with evening shoppers and diners, Edie did not notice exactly when the black car appeared behind her again. Several vehicles sped past, and even the bus, driver honking the horn at full volume, skilfully negotiating the narrow road whilst also talking on his mobile phone. But the black car stayed right behind.

  Edie slowed down. There were no turn-offs or cut-throughs to go for – any road leading to the left went back at most four or five blocks and then reached a dead end, further progress impeded by the small hurdle of a massive mountain. She could take such a turn, and see if the black car followed her – but if it did, what then? She’d be blocked in front and behind and have no option but to face a confrontation with whoever was inside. The number plate was local; it could be a resident’s car or a hire car, there was no way of knowing. A steely chill of fear slithered through Edie’s stomach and into her bowels.