by NC Marshall
See You Soon
NC Marshall
See You Soon Copyright © NC Marshall 2016
All rights reserved. No part of this e-book may be reproduced in any form other than in which it was purchased and without the written permission of the author. All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the author
Before you go
Sleep Peacefully Prologue
Prologue
I know you are there before I even turn around. There's a shift in the air, the wind changes its direction ever so slightly, but just enough to make me aware you’re behind me. I don’t dare turn to look at you. I want to pretend that I’m imagining it, but the busy street is full of people and I don’t want to make any more commotion than is necessary.
I calmly place my shopping bags on the pavement, trying my best to avoid the stares from passersby who have noticed that something isn’t quite right. I look down at the beautifully wrapped parcel that sits on the ground, its paper packaging now soaking up the rain from the damp pavement. In it is a necklace, a birthday present. I was looking forward to seeing her face when she opened it. That's not going to happen now.
A little girl of about seven years old clutching a large, brown fuzzy teddy bear comes out of the store next to me. Her tightly curled hair is pulled into pigtails secured with bright pink grips. She smiles sweetly, then looks puzzled as her mother mutters something, then drags her quickly away.
I still have my back to you, but I can now see a reflection in the shop window that I am standing near. The image is blurred in the rain-streaked glass. I watch silently as you take a step closer to me and raise an item from inside your jacket pocket, the hazy sun shines against it and I realise it’s a small handgun. Although I’m shocked, I knew there was a possibility that this day was going to come.
Now panic sets in around us.
“It’s a gun,” I hear a man shout from somewhere close.
“Someone call the police,” another yells loudly.
People start to run. The sound of screaming rings loudly in my ears. The busy street quickly clears, now becoming too quiet and extremely eerie for a Saturday afternoon in a normally busy city centre.
“How did you find me?” I ask, still with my back to you. My voice shakes, as does my whole body.
You don’t answer.
I close my eyes. Tears start to stream down my cheeks, fear raging inside of me, or is it fury? I can hear sirens in the distance. Their noise gets gradually louder. Help is on its way, but it's too late now, you have hold of me around the neck. I don’t attempt to get free. I’m too traumatised. Too frightened. My knees give way, but your hold prevents me from falling to the ground.
Your grip is so tight I can't breathe. With one hand you grab hold of my hair, wrenching my head painfully to one side. 1,2,3 wake up, 1,2,3 wake up!
But this isn’t another dream. The silent and desperate plea to my subconscious won't work this time.
I scream out as you put the gun to my temple. The cold hard metal penetrates through my skull. Your breath is heavy and hot on my ear. Your breathing is fast, but still you don’t speak.
I close my eyes, squeezing them shut as tightly as I can, waiting for the trigger to be pulled. The bullet. My death. But it doesn’t come as quickly as I thought it would.
Police sirens grow louder and blue lights now blaze behind my eyes as I wait for the sound that is going to be the last thing I ever hear. There is no bright light for me to enter. There are no angels or lost loved ones waiting—maybe they will come later. I don’t see all the significant times of my life; specific memories, important life milestones or the people in my life that I hold dearest. Instead, my mind is clear and calm. I’m not afraid anymore. I’m ready.
Then suddenly, I hear it, the deafening bang. A noise that vaguely sounds like my own voice crying out echoes in my ears as I fall towards the damp pavement. The police sirens sound fades away. The light behind my eyes weakens as I continue to fall. Then I see nothing but darkness.
I don’t feel myself hit the ground.
Part One
Chapter 1
The e-mail was the catalyst that started everything. A long chain of events that I never saw coming and would succeed to turn my life on its axis. I could have never predicted what was about to happen. How could I?
It was early evening ending an early summer’s day. I had recently finished work at a city centre restaurant and was on my way home after enduring a busy nine-hour shift that had been full of customers who seemed to want to do nothing more than look down their snooty noses at me. My feet were aching and the smell of hot food that clung to my uniform was beginning to make me feel queasy. The bus home was running late, nothing out of the ordinary on my frequent short commute that had become a regular part of my unglamorous daily routine. I waited at the bus stop playing with my mobile phone to pass the time, eager to get home and slip my aching limbs into a hot bubble bath.
The e-mail blinked up onto the screen as I trawled through the numerous items of junk mail, erasing ruthlessly. I was just about to delete it along with all the others, but the name of the sender registered instantly and a part of my past came rushing back to me along with it. Alison Martin. She had sent the message to an e-mail account I rarely used anymore. I couldn't believe that after almost sixteen years she hadn’t changed her e-mail address and still had mine. I was surprised she even remembered me at all after the amount of time that had passed.
The message had been sent three days ago. I felt a brief smile flick across my lips as I rushed to open the message from my old childhood friend. Memories flashed through my mind, her face as clear as day, although I had no idea what she looked like in the present. We hadn’t parted on bad terms, but then they hadn’t necessarily been particularly that good either. Still, I found myself eager to hear what she had to say. I began to read as the bus home approached the stop and the long queue finally started to move. I scanned the first few lines of the neatly typed words, causing the smile on my face to quickly vanish. The weight on my legs seemed suddenly heavier. I missed my footing and half-fell onto the elderly man standing in front of me in the queue that had now come to a halt.
“Are you alright, love?” asked the man, as he kindly helped me up to my feet.
I managed a feeble nod in his direction. He nodded back politely as he moved away and continued towards the bus. I buried the phone in my cardigan pocket and followed him. Settling down at a window seat near the back of the bus, I reopened the message. I didn’t want to read it; I wanted to pretend that I hadn’t even received it, but I knew I cou
ldn’t do that. I read the message three times before it finally sank in:
Hi Emily,
How are you? I hope you are well. Forgive me for contacting you after all of these years, out of the blue in this way. I know that we haven’t spoken for so long, but I need to let someone know, and you see, you were the first person that came to mind. I no longer have a contact number for you so I couldn’t call. I’m relying on the fact you are still using the same e-mail address as you had back in school to get this. Basically Em, I’m in trouble. Big, big trouble. I’m scared and I really need someone to talk to. I don’t know what to do. Please give me a call as soon as you get this. I’ve attached my telephone number below.
Speak soon, I hope,
Ali x
I quickly dialled the number at the bottom of the e-mail, not really thinking through what I was going to say. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Ali in over fifteen years. I wasn’t too sure why after so long she would choose me to contact in such an emergency—and it seemed like an emergency—judging by the words she had used in her message, albeit vague. It didn’t matter. I needed to speak to her. The phone rang and went straight through to her machine, so I left her a message with my phone number and told her to call me straight back, when she had the chance. She didn’t.
A few days later and I still had no word from Ali. I’d called and e-mailed her back, but she didn’t answer or reply to any of my attempts. I fooled myself into thinking that maybe her dilemma had been sorted, that whatever trouble she had referred to in her message had been resolved and she didn’t need to speak to me anymore, but I knew that was a long shot. She would have at least called me to tell me she was safe. I knew that even though we were no longer well acquainted, she would have the decency to at least do that.
A few more days passed. I tried to get on with my daily routine and put the e-mail to the back of my mind, but my thoughts kept straying back to Ali and I had a creeping sense of unease that wouldn’t leave me. I couldn’t describe it, but it was a nagging feeling of dread that just wouldn’t go away. A feeling something had happened to her. Something bad. So, I finally decided to take action. Even if was to just put my mind at rest that Ali was safe, I wouldn’t settle until I knew for sure.
I dialled the number of the police station into my phone, then sat fidgeting nervously with the edge of the small wooden table in the kitchen of my home.
“Good afternoon, Sandbroke Police Station, Rachael speaking, how can I help?” asked a girl cheerily greeting me on the other side of the line.
“Hi, could I talk to someone regarding an old friend of mine?” Even hearing the name of my old home town made my stomach flip.
“Can I ask what it's regarding?” asked Rachael.
“I think an old friend of mine could be in some sort of trouble. She contacted me recently to tell me that she needed to speak to me. She needed my help,” I said hastily, my words rushing out far too fast for such a delicate matter.
“Yes, of course,” replied the receptionist unsurpassed. “I’ll put you through to one of our officers. Please hold.”
Classical music played quietly as I waited for another voice to come on the line.
“Hello, this is Inspector Mayland, how can I help?” a female officer asked.
“Oh, hello,” I said, unsure now of what to say. “I just wanted to let you know about a message I received a few days ago. It’s from an old friend of mine. It sounds as though she is in some sort of trouble. I just want to check that nothing has been reported.” I paused to compose myself. “I’m a little concerned about her.”
“Okay, can I take your name?” asked the officer in a soothing tone of voice. I must have sounded as distraught as I felt. I heard her rustling around for a pen.
“Emily, Emily Moore,” I replied quickly, my voice shaking.
Inspector Mayland proceeded to take more details from me. “And you say your friend is a local resident here at Sandbroke?”
I paused, feeling foolish. Ali could have moved away from Sandbroke at any time during the fifteen years since I’d last spoken to her. But then, I knew how much she loved the place. I very much doubt she would be far from the area, cutting all ties to it completely.
“Um, I’m not too sure. To be honest it’s been a very long time since I had any contact with her.”
“But you have reason to believe she could have come to harm?”
“Yes, possibly. I received an e-mail from her saying she needed my help. She sounded quite desperate.”
“An e-mail?” The officer sounded skeptical and I instantly regretted making the call. “Okay, what did you say her full name was?”
“I didn’t. It’s Alison. Alison Martin.”
“Oh, I see. Can you hold please, Miss Moore?”
“Yes, that’s fine.”
Growing more anxious, I heard a click and once again, I was put on hold. It felt like forever before the officer got back to me.
“Miss Moore. I’m sorry to keep you waiting; I just had to check something with my colleague. We are in fact working on a case of a missing person and I can confirm the woman's name is Miss Alison Martin.” My heart rate accelerated. I felt as though I was going to pass out. She was missing.
“What, when, where?” I stammered, breathlessly.
“She lives over in Cranley Quays now. She was reported missing by a neighbour eight days ago. The police are currently looking into her disappearance. There's been no evidence of any harm to her. Her risk grading has been set as low, meaning we don’t believe she is in any immediate danger. Our team is looking into her case now. That’s all I can tell you at this point, Miss Moore.”
I stayed silent.
“Miss Moore, we are going to have to see that e-mail and you also if possible. Do you live in the area?”
“No. Not anymore,” I whispered. The kitchen started to swim around me, forcing me to grip the edge of the table.
“Could you forward us the e-mail please? We will also need to talk to you further as soon as possible. Up to now you are the only person that we know of who had any contact with Miss Martin in the days leading up to her disappearance. It would be good to discuss this face to face if possible.”
I swallowed back the lump that had lodged itself squarely in the centre of my throat.
“Or we can sort it out another way. If it’s going to be trouble for you,” said Inspector Mayland when I didn’t immediately respond.
Tears filled my eyes. I knew what I had to do.
“Don’t worry,” I replied quietly. “I’ll come to you. I’ll come back to Sandbroke.”
Chapter 2
So now, here I am—on a train heading back to the seaside town that I had been born and grown up in. I wish I could say that I am looking forward to going back there after so long. I wish I could say I was going for a holiday, to have a long overdue reunion, to see some familiar faces and relive a perfect youth, but then I would be lying. Sandbroke holds many memories for me that I would much rather forget.
A loud clatter interrupts my thoughts as a train hostess crashes the refreshments trolley straight into the side of my seat, narrowly missing my legs and causing me to jump.
“Oh, I am sorry,” she says, flustered. “It’s my first day on the job. I haven’t learnt how to control this thing yet.” Embarrassed, she bends to chase the miniature cans of coke now rolling along the aisle of the crammed carriage.
“Don’t worry about it.” I force a smile in her direction, my nerves still on edge. The lady sitting next to me gives a wry smile before returning to her book. She has been heavily absorbed in its pages since she joined the train a few hours back.
“Can I get you anything?” the girl asks, pulling at her blazer hem. Composing herself, she gestures to the stack of sandwiches, sweets, and biscuits loaded onto the trolley top. Her cheeks are a bright shade of pink.
“I’ll just have a coffee,” I say, hoping that a quick intake of caffeine will ease my jitteriness. Though somehow, I doubt it.
/> My phone starts to ring as I hand the girl some money for my drink and accept the flimsy plastic cup from her accompanied by small pots of UHT milk and far too many sachets of white sugar. I quickly finish the transaction and reach in my handbag to answer the call.
“Hi, darling,” I say quietly, as my daughter's voice greets me on the other side of the line.
“Hi, Mum, how’s the journey going?”
“Slowly,” I reply honestly, stretching my legs out as far as the small space will allow and silently wishing I was back at home with her, back in familiar surroundings. Safe.
“What time are you due to get in?”
I look at my watch. “Another hour and a half or so to go.”
“Yuck, rather you than me.”
“How did the exam go at school today?” I ask, suddenly remembering that Lucy had an exam earlier this morning.
“Good, I think, but maths has never been my strong point. It was the one I was dreading and I’m just glad it's over to be honest.”
“Well, I think you get that from me. I can barely function without a calculator close at hand.” The woman next to me glances up from her book and gives a polite smile as if to silently declare that she suffers from the same problem. I take a sip from the hot coffee. It tastes too sweet and far too watery. My stomach churns.
“What's your next exam?”
“English Lit, tomorrow afternoon, last one, then I’m free!”
I laugh at my daughter's excitement at the prospect of finally leaving secondary school behind. Which I'm sure will diminish when she realises how much harder life is once you leave education and enter the real world. I know she will do well in the exams. One area of my life that I have no worries is my daughter's studies; she has always been a bright and studious girl, from being young.
“Are you at Grandma and Grandpa’s now?” I ask.
“Yeah, Grandpa met me outside the school after the exam finished. He refused to let me walk back to their house on my own. It’s only a ten-minute walk. You would think I was still a kid!”