The House on Candlewick Lane

by Amy M. Reade

  I took a deep breath. “I was just thinking that at that party, when you smiled at me from across the room, when you winked at me, I felt a delirious happiness for the first time since Neill took Ellie. And then straight away I felt terrible for feeling happy. Do you think that’s wrong?”

  “Do I think it’s wrong to feel happy or do I think it’s wrong to feel guilty?”

  “Either.”

  “I don’t think it’s wrong at all. I’ve been wondering how I was going to tell you how I feel about you and you’ve just done the hard work for me. The truth is, I think I’m falling in love.” He smiled broadly, his eyes twinkling.

  I couldn’t do anything but smile at him. I was afraid I would cry if I opened my mouth. He reached for my hand across the table and caressed it . “When I first met you on the airplane, I figured you for a harried, stressed-out drinker.”

  “And you were partially right!”

  He laughed. “But not in a bad way. Harried and stressed out, definitely. But little did I know how good your reason was for feeling that way. And the drinking part? This is Scotland. To find a woman to drink whisky with me was a wee bonus.”

  “But what about Ellie?” I asked.

  “We’re going to find Ellie. But you’re allowed to feel happiness even in her absence. It would be strange if you were joyful and giddy all the time, but you’re not. She always occupies a big part of your mind. That much is obvious, even to someone who doesn’t know you. You exude a certain sadness, a certain melancholy. And that’s all right. But you can miss Ellie and, maybe, love me at the same time, you know. Do you?”

  I looked into his twinkling big brown eyes as a warm feeling of love and peace and hope washed over me. And a thrill of excitement, wondering what the future might hold for the two of us. For the three of us, once I had Ellie back.

  “Yes, I think I do.” He squeezed my hand, staring into my eyes with a look of unbridled joy.

  We took our time walking back to the flat. We had just turned onto my block when my phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID and didn’t recognize the number. My pulse quickened.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Neill. Greer, listen to me.”

  “Neill—”

  “Just listen to me, I said. I need money. Ellie is in real danger this time. I have to meet you.”

  “How is she in danger?” I had stopped in my tracks. James was staring at me.

  “Never mind that. The quicker I get the money, the safer she’ll be. I need ten thousand pounds. How fast can you get it?”

  “Ten thousand pounds? I’m going to have to call my mother. I don’t have that kind of cash. And besides, I’ll never be able to withdraw that much from the cash machine.”

  “How much do you need?” James asked.

  I covered the phone with my hand. “I need about six thousand pounds,” I answered. “I only have about four thousand in the bank.”

  “I’ll give you as much as I can,” he said. “Find out when Neill needs it.”

  “Neill, I can get the money. Where do you want me to meet you?”

  “How did you get the money so fast?” he asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. Please, tell me where to meet you. And when.”

  “Meet me in an hour on the Royal Mile, in front of St. Giles.”

  “Will you have Ellie with you?”

  “No.”

  “Where is she?”

  “With someone I trust. It’s better if you don’t know where they are.” Who had Ellie? Probably a girlfriend. Damn him.

  He hung up before I could say anything more. I turned to James. “I don’t know how to thank you. I have to meet him in an hour in front of St. Giles.”

  “Let’s get to the cash machine, then.” He grabbed my hand, and we turned around and headed back in the opposite direction. I remembered seeing a cash machine not far from the pub. We walked quickly to the machine and I waited while James took out five hundred pounds, the machine’s limit. He counted it quickly and stuffed it into an envelope that was in a box on the cash machine. I took out five hundred pounds too, then we headed toward St. Giles.

  “Wait,” James said, stopping on the street. “Why haven’t we called the police yet?”

  “We can’t call the police,” I said. “It’ll spook him and he won’t come. And then how will we find out where Ellie is? And then what if his girlfriend—he has a girlfriend, apparently— takes her?” My voice was rising; my throat constricted.

  “They can make him tell them,” he suggested.

  “But what happens if he doesn’t tell? They can’t torture him. As much as I wish they could.”

  “Greer, I think this is a bad idea.”

  “I just don’t think there’s any other way. Why don’t you stay here and I’ll meet Neill by myself?”

  He shook his head. “No way. You’re not going to St. Giles by yourself in the dead of night. I’m going with you.”

  We hastened to the cathedral. Only a few people milled about the street outside. Soft light from the magnificent High Kirk pooled on the cobbles, making the atmosphere quite bright, even in the cold darkness. I turned to James. “I’m surprised Neill wanted to meet here. It’s very bright. I expected him to want to meet where it was dark, where fewer people would be able to see us.”

  “I don’t see him, do you?”

  We looked in every direction in front of the cathedral, but Neill wasn’t there. “I guess we should wait for him.”

  I had the unsettling feeling of being watched. It was likely Neill was somewhere quite close, observing us as we waited for him. I had a sudden chilling thought. “James, what if Neill isn’t showing up because you’re here with me? He didn’t say to come by myself, but maybe that’s what he expected.”

  “Don’t you think he’d call if he wanted me to leave?”

  “I really don’t know. Maybe he’ll just not show up.”

  “He’ll show up if he needs the money badly enough.”

  “But what if he thinks you’re the police?”

  James sighed. “You win. I’ll leave, but I’m not going far. I’m going to a place where I can see everything.” He looked around, then pointed to a tartan shop. “That’s as good a place as any. I’ll park myself in the front window and watch from there. Just hand him the money, try to find out where Ellie is, and get yourself out of there.” He leaned in to kiss me and then hurried away.

  I stood by myself in the cold, scanning the people around me for a sign of Neill.

  When he walked up to me several minutes later I was shocked.

  “Greer.”

  CHAPTER 20

  I knew that voice. But I would never have recognized the man. Neill’s hair was too long and greasy. His face was dirty, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in weeks. His clothes were tattered and disheveled. Pushing his stringy hair away from his face, he approached me slowly.

  “Do you have the money?”

  “Neill?” I was incredulous.

  “Shh. No one can know I’m here. Do you have the money?” he repeated.

  “I have a thousand pounds. That’s all we were allowed to withdraw from the cash machine. Where’s Ellie?”

  “That’s all you brought?” he asked with a groan. He ran his hand across his forehead, then shook his head. “I can’t tell you where Ellie is. It’s safer for both of you not to know.”

  “You can’t keep doing this, Neill. Give her back to me and I’ll protect her.”

  “You can’t protect her, Greer. This is my mistake. Only I can protect her right now.”

  “You’re the reason she’s in danger,” I said, jabbing my finger toward his face. “You smell terrible. Just look at yourself. She must be scared to death.”

  “It’s a disguise, Greer.”

  “Don’t give me that. It isn’t a disguise. It’s a tragedy and a nightmare for our daughter. James was right. I should have called the police. Maybe they could talk some se
nse into you.”

  “Please, Greer. As soon as I give the money to the people I owe, Ellie and I will be safe, and I’ll bring her back to you. But I need that money. And the other nine thousand pounds, as soon as you can get it.”

  “Did you gamble all the other money away?” I asked with a scowl.

  “Yes,” he answered in a whisper, looking at the ground.

  “Who do you owe money to?”

  “His name is Arnie.”

  “Once you give Arnie the money, this will all be over and you’ll give Ellie back to me?”

  “I hope so.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  That familiar beading of sweat had formed on Neill’s upper lip. He glanced in each direction, his gaze shifting rapidly. This was a hunted man.

  “Neill?” I shook his arm.

  “It means I hope so.” He looked over his shoulder. “If anything happens to me, find Beatrice.”

  “Beatrice? What’s she got to do with this?”

  “Someday maybe I’ll tell you everything, but for now please just give me the money.”

  The money was in the bank envelope. I slipped it out of my coat pocket and handed it to him. “This is all I have, and it’s all my friend has. Please give it to Arnie and don’t gamble with it. I can’t get you more. And Ellie needs to be with me.”

  He scowled. “Don’t preach at me, Greer. I know all that.”

  “I’m not preaching at you,” I hissed. “Don’t screw it up.”

  He turned and took off running. I hedged fora moment, then ran after him. He looked behind him and sped up when he saw me following him. I heard a shout that sounded like James. He’ll just have to try to keep up.

  James had indeed fled the shop when he saw me run after Neill. It wasn’t long before his long strides caught up to mine, and he grabbed my arm. “Greer, what are you thinking?”

  We were both breathless, but I felt I could have kept running all night. “I’m going to find out where Neill’s headed.” He let go of me, and I raced off. I could hear James’s feet pounding the street right behind me. Neill was ahead, and he was pulling away. When I saw him duck into Friar’s Wynd, I didn’t hesitate.

  Two passersby stared as James and I chased Neill down the alley. He was quite far ahead. There was a shout, and suddenly Neill was gone.

  I tried to run faster, but I was winded. James loped past me as I stood in the alley, my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. Up ahead, he stopped and looked around. “There’s another alley, but no one’s down there,” he called.

  “Never mind. We’ve lost him,” I answered, shaking my head.

  “Let me go down this way and see if I can spot anything,” he said.

  I waited against a wall, still breathing heavily. It was only a moment before I heard James shout. “Greer, come here!”

  I hurried over and found James leaning over Neill. My ex-husband lay on the ground, his face covered in blood. An angry gash had split his forehead; jagged bits of skin glowed dark red in the lamplight.

  I covered my mouth to keep from screaming. Whoever had done this could still be close by. With my ex-husband was quite possibly lying dead in front of me, Ellie could be with some woman she barely knew, waiting for her father to return to her.

  There was so much blood. James recovered first. He pulled me back to the Royal Mile, and we stood together against the side of a building while he called the police from his mobile phone.

  “We need to get out of here,” he whispered. “The person who did this can’t be far away.”

  “But we can’t just leave him here,” I said.

  “We’ll just walk a bit up the block. Find some people. The dispatcher told me to get out of the area. They’ll be here quickly, I’m sure.”

  We jogged back the way we’d come, toward the cathedral, pausing only to look behind us a few times. Several people stood talking on the sidewalk. The image of Neill’s body lying in the alley, blood pooling around him, went through my mind again and again.

  We could already hear the sirens. Sirens were common in this city, but somehow I knew these particular ones were for Neill.

  Once we stopped, the worry set in. “James, what about Ellie? She’ll be so afraid when he doesn’t come back! She’ll panic!” I was panicking myself.

  “Let’s wait until the police examine him. Maybe there’s something on him that will tell us where he’s been hiding. Maybe they can even figure out where Ellie is now.”

  He was right. I allowed a tiny glimmer of hope to burst through the vise encircling my chest. “Do you think so? Maybe they can find something in his mobile phone.”

  Three police cars pulled to a stop, and several officers fanned out in front of St. Giles. James strode over and explained quickly what was going on. One officer shouted, and several more police moved quickly and cautiously toward the alley where Neill lay. James and I followed them, ignoring the suspicious looks and shouted questions from the group nearby.

  “Say, what’s going on?”

  “Where are the coppers going?”

  Before we knew it, an entire gallery of people crowded down the alley, pointing and staring at Neill’s body. Several of them whipped out their mobile phones and began to record the chaotic scene. The police pushed the crowd back and put up caution tape. I elbowed my way to the front of the crowd, pulling James behind me.

  The officer lifted the tape so James and I could pass underneath and get closer to Neill. An ambulance had driven down the Royal Mile, and two paramedics with a gurney were making their way through the crowd, shouting for people to let them through.

  James and I stood off to the side to watch the police and the paramedics do their work. One paramedic was listening to Neill’s chest with a stethoscope and the other was feeling Neill’s neck for a pulse. He glanced at his partner and shook his head. The partner looked at his watch for several long seconds before taking the stethoscope out of his ears and hanging it around his neck. Then he started CPR. I could feel the pressure of James’s hand on mine, but nothing else was registering.

  The paramedic worked for what seemed like an hour, but in fact it was probably only a few minutes. Several police officers had gathered round and were watching. Finally the paramedic looked at his watch and noted the time. His partner wrote it down on a piece of paper he was holding. They spoke to the police officers briefly, and one of the officers nodded in my direction. The paramedics turned to look at me, and one of them started walking toward me and James. I already knew what he was going to say.

  Neill was dead.

  I let go of James’s hand and stepped toward the nearest paramedic.

  “Is this man your ex-husband?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m afraid he didn’t survive his injuries.”

  I nodded. I couldn’t speak. I felt like I should be remembering the good times, the love we felt for each other when we were much younger and less wise, the home we shared as a family. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to remember those things.

  I was angry. Angry that Neill had caused all of this himself, angry that he had a gambling addiction, angry at his family, angry that I was powerless to prevent any of this from happening, angry that I had to witness the immediate aftermath of his brutal death. I would never get the picture of his bloody face and forehead out of my dreams.

  But most of all, I was angry at him for dragging Ellie into this, for introducing her to a world of thugs and violence, for taking her from me, for hiding her from the rest of the world in her time of greatest need.

  And I was scared, too. Where was Ellie?

  But through the anger and fear, I felt a sudden and unexpected lightness as my new reality began to dawn on me—a shameful feeling of contented acceptance that Neill was gone. I would never have to deal with him again, never have to take his panicked call in the night asking for money, never have to worry that he would take Ellie from me again. And
as guilty as I felt for having such thoughts, I couldn’t shake them. But I pushed them aside—we had to find my daughter.

  What if the girlfriend had left her alone, or with a member of his horrendous family? If Ellie were alone, it wouldn’t be long before she would expect him back and begin to wonder where he was. My eyes watered thinking about my little girl, confused and lonely, upset and possibly hungry. It was past her bedtime. Was she sleeping, only to wake in the morning and discover her daddy never came back? Was she awake, too afraid to fall asleep without an adult there to protect her? The tears spilled down my cheeks, and I walked over to where James was talking to one of the police officers.

  “Love, I’ve been telling the officer what led us to chase Neill down this alley.” He looked at the tear streaks on my face and squeezed my arm. “Darling, let’s sit down somewhere. This has been a lot for you.”

  I wiped my eyes on my coat sleeve and nodded. “It’s not Neill I’m crying about, it’s Ellie.”

  The officer looked at us questioningly. “Who’s Ellie?”

  Too drained to speak, I looked at James, and he launched into an explanation of my relationship with Neill, our complicated reasons for being in Edinburgh, and my missing Ellie. The officer whipped out his radio, which hadn’t stopped squawking and said something unintelligible into it. Then he motioned another officer over to him.

  “We’ve got a missing child. Five years old. The deceased is the non-custodial parent. He took the child from the child’s home in the States and brought her here. Have you been through his trouser pockets? His jacket? We need to find out where he was staying.”

  The police started to move faster. One reached into Neill’s pants pockets and began sorting through everything in them. Another officer did the same with Neill’s grungy overcoat. He shook his head. “Nothin’ in the pockets, sir,” he said.

  The officer who had gone through Neill’s trousers found a mobile phone. He stood under a streetlamp, and I could see him scrolling on the phone’s screen. He walked over to me and James.

  “It’s a throwaway. Looks like he’s only dialed one number.” He read the number. “Recognize it?”