by Tom Grieves
And then Zoe was there on the other side of him, asking again about the break-in and other leads, while Ashley coughed up theatrical anguish.
‘Okay, shut up a second.’ He tried to clear his mind. ‘Just shut up!’
He faced Ashley, trying to turn his back on Zoe.
‘You said you never bought drugs yourself.’
He saw her eyes drop as the lie was exposed. But now Zoe was trying to distract him.
‘Sam, she’s a kid, she’s nothing to do with this.’
‘Not now, Zoe,’ he said, trying to maintain his focus. ‘You lied, didn’t you? You know those dealers perfectly well.’
‘Piss off,’ the girl replied. It was a truculent mutter, a confession of sorts.
‘Why did you lie?’ His voice came out louder than he meant it to.
‘Jesus, Sam,’ Zoe said, tugging at his sleeve, but he didn’t bother with her.
‘What did Helen tell you to say?’ he continued.
Ashley’s eyes bored into the ground with shame.
‘Sam …’ Zoe’s hand was on his arm again and he wheeled around and pushed her. She slipped, not expecting this, and fell backwards onto the floor. She didn’t get up, but just stared at him in shock. He felt a wave of shame pour over him. Another wave to add to the ocean. He couldn’t look at her so he slammed back to Ashley instead.
‘What did she make you say?’
Nothing. The girl was crying.
‘Don’t fucking cry. Just tell me. Why did you lie?’
He grabbed her shoulders, and she answered in a tiny voice, without pride or cunning.
‘So you’d want me.’
She shrank slightly after saying the words. ‘If I’d told you I was a user,’ she said, ‘and you knew I scored and loved to get high, you wouldn’t have stuck with me. You’d have screwed me and gone. You know you would have. I remember how you looked at me, when we started. Like I was nothing.’
She pushed the hair away from her face and wiped her eyes.
‘I just wanted to keep you here. ’Cos I love you so much. You have no idea, do you?’
‘What did Helen say to you?’
‘Nothing! God, you’re stupid. I don’t know anything about Lily. No one does. I hope you never find her.’
She shrank at her own words.
‘That’s terrible, isn’t it? Saying that. But it’s true. ’Cos if you never find her, then that means you’ll always be looking. And you’ll have to stay here, with me.’
She put her arms out and pulled him tight, and he didn’t know what to do.
‘I’d tell every lie in the world to keep you, Sam. I don’t care. I don’t care about anything except you.’
He looked around. Zoe was still lying on the ground. He felt Ashley kiss his lips, but there was no connection, it was as though he wasn’t there. The snow was too bright.
‘Sam?’ Ashley asked.
‘Sam,’ Zoe countered.
Nothing made sense.
He had to find Lily.
‘I love you. You love me. You know you do.’
Zoe got back to her feet. He felt outnumbered again as Ashley reached for him once more. But he held up his hands, trying to protect himself, trying to work it all out.
How can they all be innocent? If a boy is dead and a girl is missing, then how can nobody be to blame?
The water lapped against the shore and offered nothing.
He had been certain it was Sarah, but now this seemed wrong.
He was sure Ashley was deceiving him, but her words rang true.
He had been so sure about it all.
Stop. Think. Take it all in.
If Lily was still alive, then where would she be? If she was here, in the village, then they would have found her. If she was in the lake, then that final trawl would have discovered her body.
Why had Helen really come back? If she was at the heart of this, then she must be pulling the strings. She must still have Lily. It’s the only possible answer. But where could she hide her?
Water, a woman, a purple coat, a little girl.
He stared out over the lake and let his eyes follow a line of geese that beat their way through the sky with heavy wings. They passed over the old boathouse, halfway along, its crumbling jetty more visible now that the trees had shed their leaves.
Sam’s eyes gazed at the boathouse. The place where the kids went because no one would find them. The only place in the village where you could go and not be seen.
Something glinted; metal, reflecting off the sun. He looked again. It was the bonnet of a silver car.
He started to run.
SIXTY-SIX
Jeremy Durrant’s old boathouse was surrounded by woodland. A car could get down there if it knew where to turn off from the road, but the uneven path was steep and hazardous. There was little reason to drive there anyway, as it was easier to launch a boat from the other side of the lake, and the locals had scoffed when it was first erected in the late fifties. Although he was rich and well liked, everyone used to laugh at Jeremy, telling him that the boathouse was a folly and he might as well throw a suitcase of money into the depths of the lake itself. It turned out they were right. No sooner had the work finished and his chic white motorboat been happily stored there, than Jeremy’s wife announced that she was leaving him. His house was soon put up for sale, and although he still owned the land and the boathouse, no one ever saw him up in these parts again. Someone said he now lived down in Cap Ferrat with a Playboy model, but it made no difference to the villagers.
Bitter winters and storms ate at the wood, and time did its inevitable damage as the building developed an unfortunate list towards the lake: a drunk diver, ready to take that final plunge. In this state, unloved and abandoned, it was inevitable that eager young couples would seek its shelter for amorous adventures. A tree had grown up through the platform on one side, splitting it apart, and much of the wood had crumbled and splintered, but it was still a place of sanctuary, a feeble attempt at escape.
Sam sprinted through the snow. He heard Zoe shouting from behind him, but nothing could stop him as he charged on amongst the trees.
He slowed slightly as he approached. There was, indeed, a silver car parked just in front of the dilapidated building. Zoe was suddenly by his side and they walked forward together, inching towards the truth. From the trees, still some two hundred metres away, he saw a flash of purple. A purple coat. A woman in a purple coat, her back to him. She moved into the shelter of the boathouse and out of sight before he could see more.
The snow dulled the noise of their steps and they pushed on fast. Nearly there. Sam prayed that he wasn’t too late. It felt all too horribly appropriate for Lily to be found here, floating where the motorboat was once housed, all alone, with Helen standing next to her, her work finally complete.
Four wooden steps led up to the faded platform where the car was parked. It creaked slightly under the weight. The two cops paused before heading up. And then they heard a woman’s voice call out.
‘Are you fucking kidding me?’
And then a woman appeared – thin, thirties, with a gaunt face and expression that was sharp and severe. She wore the purple coat, buttoned up to the neck against the cold, but her jeans and shoes were unsuitable for this place and the weather. Too fashionable: city dress.
She walked straight to the car and didn’t see the cops nearby as she pulled open the car door. Inside, asleep on the back seat, was Lily Downing. She still wore her school uniform – white ankle socks, a simple blue skirt and matching top with the school’s crest emblazoned in yellow. It was as if she’d stepped out of her own photo. Sam was about to lunge for her when he heard another voice. A man.
‘It’s all they had!’
‘You said they were loaded,’ she replied.
‘It’s all I found, Jesus. You think I didn’t try? I’ve tried everything. I mean, breaking into your own sister’s house and robbing her, bloody hell, that’s low, isn’t it?’
‘I was told not to let her go unless you had it all,’ she said.
‘I’ve tried, I’ve told you, I don’t have any more. This whole thing … there was no need.’
Sam’s leg was shaking and cramping – he wanted to run at her now, grab her and pin her into the snow.
The woman was angry. He watched her red lips purse.
‘It wasn’t my idea,’ she said. ‘I told him it was stupid. I’m sorry about the boy, everyone’s sorry about the boy, but he’s on your conscience so shut up about it.’
She had a regional twang, and when she spoke the darker and harder tones were more pronounced.
‘He was just a kid,’ he said.
‘Don’t go on about it, for God’s sake.’
‘You sure she’s okay?’ Jed asked, staring down at her.
‘Yeah. She’s fine. Been out of it most of the time, so might take a bit to come round proper.’
‘What? So, she could be, like, brain-damaged or something?’
‘I said she’s fine, didn’t I? We didn’t want any chance of her seeing anything though, did we? Then we’d all be fucked.’
‘Instead of just me.’
‘Yeah, Jed. Instead of just you. Jesus, we fed her and cleaned her clothes and shit. We’re not monsters. And it wasn’t my idea to take the kids in the first place. I thought it was fucking stupid. But you created the problem and he wanted to make a statement. And this is where we end up.’
‘You killed Arthur, you stupid bitch.’
‘Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a needle in a kid when he’s wriggling about like crazy? No wonder he ended up getting too much.’
Neither of them moved for a moment, a little crushed by the tragedy.
‘So what do we do?’
‘I don’t know, I’ll have to call. But I just want rid of her.’
Sam felt something ripping and tearing away at the top of his head. He couldn’t hear anything. His eyes watered with the cold.
You are wrong.
This is no witch.
There is no conspiracy.
You are wrong about everything.
You stupid, ignorant, foolish man.
It felt as though bubbles were prickling up inside him, bursting out of his skin. He couldn’t breathe.
*
Zoe watched the woman smooth Lily’s hair back behind her ear. It was an incongruous gesture. Sam suddenly exploded next to her – charging out at them without warning. He charged towards Jed, twigs snapping under his weight as he ripped forward.
‘Stop, police!’ she screamed, sprinting after him.
Jed turned and ran, jumping off the platform and flying through the trees, much faster than expected, and Sam went after him.
The woman was too stunned to move and Zoe didn’t even bother to cuff her.
There was a scream from the woods, then silence.
SIXTY-SEVEN
Mary-Ann Porter was thirty-three years old, with a string of convictions, starting with petty thefts and, perhaps inevitably, ending up with drugs. Once a drug user but now clean, she had noticed the easy exploitation of addicts and so hadn’t strayed too far, returning as a dealer. She refused to answer questions about associates and said nothing about Arthur and Lily Downing, but Zoe didn’t care. She’d caught her with the girl, she had her.
Zoe handcuffed her into the front of the car, then checked on Lily, whose breathing was shallow but regular. They waited in silence for her to awaken, sitting in a hostile silence as the boathouse creaked in the water. Sam hadn’t returned with Jed by the time Lily opened her eyes. She stared blankly at the two women before Zoe took control and explained as best she could to the child that she was safe and that she was going to take her back to her mother. She didn’t mention the inevitable intrusions that would follow: from the police, from child psychologists, from the press and the public.
Lily listened wide-eyed and nodded when asked if she was okay and understood. Then Zoe rang Bud, who passed her straight to Sarah Downing. Zoe told her the news, feeling a slight pang of guilt as she decided not to ring Tim Downing and do the same. He’d get his turn, she reasoned. Then she rang in to the local police station and told them that the girl was safe and the case was over.
Zoe worried that the car would slip on the snow as they made their way up the steep bank, slipping slightly on the tight bends until they made the main road. She didn’t ask Lily any more questions, and whenever she glanced at her as they headed home, she saw the little girl staring out of the window, up at the sky.
Zoe headed into the village, slowing because some of the melted ice had now refrozen. She noted a car ahead had spun and slipped off the road and several locals were out, trying to force it out of a ditch. Zoe carefully eased around them, but inevitably someone peered into the car and saw Lily. And so the cry went up.
By the time Zoe had got to Bud’s place, half the village was rushing to catch the moment. Zoe parked, got out and opened the passenger door to help Lily out. She was wearing simple black, strap-on school shoes and she gazed down unhappily at the slushy snow.
‘Come on,’ Zoe said. ‘It’s just a little snow. You’re okay. Yeah?’
Lily looked up at her and nodded. I’m okay. Zoe fought the urge to burst into tears. Lily seemed unharmed. She wondered if this could be true.
The front door opened and they turned and saw Sarah stumble into view. Lily ran away from Zoe and she smiled as the little girl charged into her mother’s arms. Sarah hugged her tight, letting out an ecstatic, guttural moan as she wrapped her daughter up tight. They didn’t move for ages and Zoe noted more people appear and witness the scene. David was there and Zoe clocked the shock and confusion in his face. He turned away, shorn of his righteous anger. Someone patted him on the shoulder, celebrating the good news, and he found it within him to smile and shake their hand.
All around him the village united and rejoiced. It was a happy day.
Behind David, Zoe saw Ashley approach. As people cheered and hugged each other, so she stood aside, her hands stuffed deep into pockets, searching for Sam amongst the crowd. Zoe wondered if she should warn her that he would not be back, but then she saw the girl turn and storm away and Zoe knew that this was another disappointment, heaped on after the last. The girl didn’t need telling of men’s fickleness. She wondered if she would ever see her again. Maybe on a corner, maybe in a cell, maybe on a slab. Why such unhappy endings? Zoe wondered. This was what her instincts predicted, that and the angry, empty stare of the girl. She watched Ashley walk away, her head down, shoulders hunched, angry at everything. Walking, as always, in the opposite direction to everyone else.
Zoe turned back to Sarah. She hoped she would catch the woman’s eye and offer her a silent nod, maybe receive a thank-you. But then she saw Sarah yank Lily inside and slam the door shut. There was a pause and then a collective moan from the crowd at this anticlimax. It seemed a fitting revenge, Zoe thought, however small.
She got back into the car and called the local station again. Officers were on the way, she was told, and she was directed to bring Mary-Ann in for questioning. Good work, the senior officer had barked before he hung up.
She drove her prisoner in without asking questions. She’d let her stew in her cell for a while. This was an easy one now. It was only a question of pulling in the others, however many there were, and making sure that Mary-Ann was wrung dry of information. Whatever happened, Lily was safe. Zoe parked her car in the small backyard of the local police station, and a young constable charged out, overexcited at the result. She regarded him coolly. He was like a young crocodile, harmless enough for now. But what would he grow into? She thought about Mr Frey and suddenly the colour of the day faded. She had a result, she’d fixed the case. But still they would come after her.
She let the young constable babble on about his first few months in the job, then led Mary-Ann inside.
She listened as the custody sergeant processed the prisoner, but her mind pulled her back to Malcolm. She heard the cell door bang shut and turned around, wondering what the hell she was going to do next.
Her mind spun to Sam. She made a few calls and learned that he hadn’t returned and that there was no news of Jed.
She ran to the car.
SIXTY-EIGHT
Jed was faster than expected, and fitter too. Sam had charged after his slight frame, expecting to pull him down within moments and drag him back to the car. But he had been drawn across the craggy terrain and out of the forest before he finally caught him near a small stream, crashing him down onto the snow, feeling the sharp elbow of a tree branch in his ribs as he tumbled onto the floor himself.
Sam hit him first. A heavy piledriver straight into Jed’s eye that broke the skin and sent blood spurting across his face.
Jed shrieked in pain and spat at Sam, who hit him hard in the stomach, sinking his weight into the punch so that Jed was left gasping and coughing.
‘Tell me,’ was all he said. As Jed rabbited out his pathetic excuses, he was unable to stop more blows from raining down.
Jed was always in debt, but had never worried about it much. However, when the stash of drugs he’d bought was stolen from his flat, he found himself in real trouble. Thinking he was clever, he bought more drugs from a gang he didn’t know, telling them he’d be able to pay in full the next morning. But when he went to his old contacts and tried to flog the drugs off onto them, he found that no one was buying. And suddenly he was out of his depth.
A kick in the kidneys left him coughing and breathless. A stamp on his knee made him howl in pain.
Although the debt was huge, Jed believed he could blag his way out of anything. So he strolled back to meet them the next day, some loosely prepared lies ready for them.
But when he went into that basement and saw the hammer on the table, his stomach turned and he knew that he’d misplayed his hand very badly indeed. The weapon had remained unused, but he’d been warned: find the money – twenty-four hours – or we’ll hurt you in ways you cannot imagine. How was he to know that these guys had been ripped off by another grifter only a week before? They told him they weren’t going to let it happen again – that if he failed them, they would make an example of him. Send out a message.