by Jack Jordan
Paige hadn’t seen her father so angry. Breathless, he rummaged around in his pocket and pulled out an inhaler. He pumped it twice into his mouth.
‘Dad, sit down.’
‘I don’t want to sit down.’
‘Sit down.’
They sat on the sofa and she took her father’s hand in hers. Both of them were shaking.
‘What am I going to do with you?’
He looked her at with such desperation in his eyes.
‘Dad, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you got like this.’
‘Of course I do: you’re my daughter. I love you. I worry about you all the time.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Paige rested her head on his shoulder.
‘How do you do that?’
‘Do what?’
‘Calm me down when I’m so angry with you?’
She couldn’t help but smile; she rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb.
The phone in Ryan’s office began to ring upstairs. Paige had disconnected it, meaning Greta must have meddled with it. Paige sat still, waiting for the call to end.
‘Aren’t you going to answer it?’
‘And tell every caller that my husband is dead?’
‘They need to know.’
‘And I need peace.’
They sat listening to the phone ring until it stopped, and the house fell silent again.
‘You’re right. You do deserve peace. Let’s sort out his office – get rid of it all.’
But he might need it,Paige thought, before she remembered that Ryan wouldn’t be coming back.
‘I’ve got a good shredder at home. I could spend my evenings shredding all of the documents in those cabinets. It would give me something to do.’
She didn’t feel up to it, but as she looked into her father’s patient eyes, she nodded.
‘Great. I’ll go for a slash and then we’ll get started.’
Paige watched as her father climbed the stairs. The moment he was out of sight, she rushed into the kitchen, poured a glass of wine, and took two diazepam tablets. She listened to her father drumming into the toilet bowl above her, and gulped down the last of the wine as he flushed the toilet.
***
Ryan’s office was set up in the smallest bedroom in the house. His desk faced the window, which looked out over the long, overgrown garden. His closed laptop was layered with dust, and an old coffee cup had mould growing inside it. Along the wall was row of filing cabinets, far too big for the room.
Paige hadn’t let his clients know that their accountant was dead. His inbox was probably filled with frustrated enquiries. She couldn’t face them – not yet.
Her dad carried stacks of documents down the stairs and out to his car after Paige had had a quick look at them in case they ought to be kept. By dinnertime they had got through all four cabinets.
Paige began to look through the drawers in Ryan’s desk. Each drawer she opened was freakishly neat, the contents arranged according to size. She began throwing the notepads, the pens, the packs of sticky notes, and the business cards into a black bin bag. She just wanted to get rid of everything. She had no idea how she was going to use the room once everything was gone.
Her father appeared behind her, out of breath, picked up the last stack of papers, and took them down to the car.
She was about to close the last drawer when she spotted a loose panel at the bottom. A shadow in the corner of the drawer suggested there was something underneath. She used her nails to prise up the corner of the panel. Lying underneath was a black handgun and an old, brick-like phone.
‘Is that everything?’
She slammed the drawer shut.
‘Yeah.’
‘I’ll call my friend and sort out a date and time to get these cabinets out of here. He’ll get you a good price. Do you want him to take the desk, too?’
‘No!’ she replied, too quickly. Her father frowned. ‘I’ll keep it. The room would look odd without it.’
‘All right then. So, are you going to make your dad a cup of tea for all of his hard work?’
She nodded and forced a smile.
Her father grinned and went down the stairs, talking away to her. Paige got up from the desk chair to follow him, but stopped at the doorway. She turned and looked back at the desk.
Why had Ryan needed a gun?
SIX
Paige looked down at the river with tears in her eyes. The water was murky and dark at dusk. Chloe had always been afraid of the dark.
Sitting on the path by the riverbank, she brought the wine bottle to her lips and took a swig.
The thought of someone cutting up her daughter’s body and scattering her in the river never failed to bring tears to Paige’s eyes. She wondered how much of her was still down there, hidden beneath reeds and scum, missed by the police divers all those years ago. She told herself to stop going there, to refrain from looking down at the water and imagining what had happened; but still, she found herself there a lot. Tonight though, she had other thoughts plaguing her mind.
Ryan had owned a gun.
She couldn’t understand how he would have got hold of a gun, or why he would need one at all. Having a gun of his own went against everything he believed in. Whenever shootings in America were on the news, his nostrils would flare and his jaw would clench. Take the damn guns away and you won’t have cops gunning down kids or teens going on killing sprees! First amendment my arse. They’re deadly weapons, not damn toys. Grow up and protect your own people!
And then he had acquired a gun of his own.
He hadn’t used the gun to end his life; he’d used a razor for that. So why else would he need a gun? Did he want to shoot Chloe’s murderer? If the police couldn’t pin down her killer, how could he?
She took another swig of wine.
None of it would matter if she went to prison. The thought of appearing in court made bile climb her throat. She had gone too far this time.
The thought of prison and the gun hidden in her house compelled her to drain the rest of the wine. She threw the empty bottle in the river, and watched it follow the current for a moment before it sank into the darkness.
The sun had set and night filled the sky. She couldn’t bear to leave Chloe down there in the dark.
‘Goodnight, my darling,’ she whispered, and struggled to her feet.
As she stood and turned to leave, she lost her balance, fell backwards, and plunged into the darkness. Water poured into her mouth and up her nose just as she began to scream. She thrashed beneath the surface, choking on the dark water and pulling at the reeds that tangled around her legs. Chloe’s body flashed before her eyes: a bloody arm, her severed head with her mouth frozen mid-scream. River water filled her lungs as she sobbed. She clawed at the water and forced herself upwards until she broke the surface, coughing up the dirty water. She snatched the edge of the path by the river and dragged herself up, her clothes drenched and pulling her down with the weight. She lay on the path and coughed up the black water as tears streamed from her eyes.
***
Blind drunk and soaking wet, Paige stumbled into the house. As she tried to strip off the clothes that clung to her body, she tripped on her jeans and slammed face-first onto the floor.
The room was dark with the night. She lay there for a moment with her face to the side, utterly defeated. From the floor, she noticed a change in the room. She struggled to pinpoint it at first.
Where are Ryan’s books?
She hadn’t got rid of them – she wouldn’t have. Couldn’t have.
She looked up at the bookcase, bare of belongings. His CDs weren’t there either.
Who would do this?
Her stomach clenched like a fist and sent bile hissing up her throat. Greta.
How dare she!
She struggled to her feet, buttoned up her jeans and staggered upstairs. Immediately she noticed that Ryan’s book and reading glasses were no longer on his bedside table. She opened his dr
awer. Empty.
‘That bitch!’
She yanked open the wardrobe doors. Ryan’s side only stored bare hangers, which rattled against each other as she slammed the doors shut. She covered her face with her hands and tried to digest her anger. Hot, furious tears stung her eyes. Dirty water dripped from her hair and clothes, and seeped into the carpet.
How dare she come into my home and take his stuff! How could she?
Paige paced the room, trying to think of a reason for Greta to do such a thing, to think she had the right to destroy Ryan’s memory.
She wanted the belongings for herself. That’s why. She couldn’t stand not having anything to remember him by, so she took what was mine.
A new fear stopped her in her tracks.
Chloe’s room.
Paige rushed out of her bedroom and barged into Chloe’s. It hadn’t been touched. She covered her face with quivering hands, too tense to sigh with relief.
I’ll get his things back. She won’t take them away from me.
She ran downstairs and stormed out of the house.
Marching through the village, anger swelled in her chest until she could hardly breathe. She shook all over as the cold night cooled the water on her skin and clothes.
The village of Loose was once a quaint community hidden in the beauty of Kent’s hilly countryside, but the Dawsons had changed all that. Its reputation had been tarnished by Chloe’s disappearance, stained with her blood. The murder had been featured in every national newspaper and on all of the television stations. The peaceful River Loose became the harbourer of body parts that belonged to an innocent fourteen-year-old girl. The friendly, close-knit community became hostile and suspicious. Everyone feared that the killer could still be among them. Seeing Paige about the village only reignited those fears: curtains were drawn, doors closed, dogs barked, whispers started. It was as though Paige were an angel of death.
When she reached her in-laws’ house, she was ready to erupt. She banged on the door with her fist.
Ryan’s father opened the door with a startled countenance.
‘Paige… why are you all wet? What’s wrong?’
‘Your wife, that’s what’s wrong!’
Paige stormed past him and walked straight into the living room, treading dirty, wet footprints into the carpet. ‘Where is she?’
‘Greta, come in here!’ he hollered down the hall, before following Paige into the living room. ‘What’s this about?’
Paige suddenly remembered the last time she saw Richard. It had been at Ryan’s wake. She had got drunk and embarrassed herself. Richard drove her home. She did something unforgiveable.
‘Greta took Ryan’s stuff.’
‘She what? When?’
‘Today. I came home and saw his stuff was missing: clothes, books, cologne, everything.’
Greta walked in, drying her hands with a tea towel. She took in Paige’s appearance. ‘What on earth…’
‘You!’ Paige strode towards her, pointing a wet finger at her face. ‘You took Ryan’s things!’
‘Why would I do that? Don’t point, Paige. It’s rude.’
‘I’m rude? You come into my house like it’s your own and take things that don’t belong to you!’
‘Is this true, Greta?’ Richard asked.
‘No! I didn’t take anything!’
‘Well who did, then?’ Paige asked. ‘Who else would come into my house and feel as though they have the right to do whatever they like?’
‘Maybe your father did it,’ Greta said.
‘He doesn’t have a key. You are the only person who has a key, which I would like back. Now.’
‘This is ludicrous. Do you know that? All I’ve done is try and support you, since the moment you and Ryan began your relationship. I don’t deserve such rage!’
‘You always stuck your nose into our business, judging every move we made. I couldn’t feed my baby without you interfering, or do the washing without doing it wrong, or cook a meal without you turning your nose up at it. Ryan is dead – you don’t have the right to bother me anymore!’
Greta had tears in her eyes and pursed lips. ‘I tried to love you like a daughter.’
‘Oh, please! You never thought I was good enough for Ryan.’
‘Well, you weren’t,’ Richard said, silencing them both.
The three of them stood in silence. Greta wrung the tea towel in her hands.
‘It’s not as though you were faithful.’
‘Stop it,’ Paige said.
‘What do you mean, Richard?’
‘After the wake…’
‘Richard, don’t.’
‘She tried to seduce me.’
‘She what?’
‘It’s not how it sounds, Greta. I was emotional.’
‘She touched me inappropriately.’
‘I didn’t want to be alone.’
‘Where did she touch you? On the arm? The leg?’
‘Richard, you don’t need to…’
‘Oh for God’s sake, use your imagination, Greta.’
As the truth dawned on Greta, her jaw fell open. ‘How could you? Why would you do that?’
Paige opened her mouth to apologise when Greta slapped her across the face.
‘You get out of this house,’ she said, as tears ran down her cheeks. ‘You get out of this house and never come to us again!’
Greta walked out, sobbing, leaving Richard and Paige standing there staring silently at each other, Paige cupping her stinging cheek. A dark puddle surrounded her feet, seeping into the cream carpet. Greta came back into the room and threw the house key at Paige’s feet. ‘There’s your key. Now leave.’
Feeling the heat of Greta’s glare and Richard’s disgust, Paige picked up the key and put it in her pocket.
‘I’m… I’m sorry.’
Paige knew then that she had very few people left who loved her – that she had just destroyed a relationship that had spanned twenty years. Her last ties to Ryan had been cut.
She left without another word, her face hot with shame, and shut the front door behind her. It was only when she turned the key in her own front door that she wondered: if Greta didn’t take Ryan’s things, then who did?
SEVEN
Paige sat at a table by the window of the coffee shop. Raindrops raced down the glass and grey clouds smothered the sky. She was drenched from head to toe, with raindrops dripping from her hair. She shrugged out of her coat and placed her shaking hands around the warm coffee cup, wondering how long it would take for Detective Inspector Graham Balding to arrive.
Despite the dismal weather, sunglasses shielded her eyes. The day was too bright, and her headache was too great. She had drunk far too much last night, even for her. A drying pool of sick waited for her on the living room carpet – she couldn’t face it yet, she would only vomit again at the stench. Spotting blood in it was normal for her now.
I’m not going mad. Someone is taunting me. I’m not doing this. I would remember. I’m not losing my mind.
Her hands trembled so badly that coffee spilled from the cup as she lifted it to her lips. A young child watched her from another table. Embarrassed, she put the cup back on the saucer and hid her hands in her lap.
As DI Graham Balding entered the coffee shop, a damp gust of wind swept in with him. His dark brown face was moist with beads of rain. He lowered his hood, scanned the room for her, and nodded in greeting. While he paid for his coffee at the counter, Paige took in the changes to his appearance; the years hadn’t been kind to him.
For every black hair on his head, there was a grey one; the skin on his face looked slack from age and sleepless nights. Paige wondered if he was dressed in the same suit she had last seen him wearing seven years ago.
The last time they met hadn’t been a good experience for either of them. Paige had practically lunged across the desk at Balding when he told her and Ryan that Chloe’s case was about to close unsolved. Ryan had simply stared ahead in shock, while Paige sma
cked the DI’s chest and screamed belligerently.
‘Do I need to get out my boxing gloves?’ he said as he sat down opposite her.
‘Not today.’
‘Good. I’m surprised it’s been so long.’
‘I didn’t think you would appreciate seeing my face again.’
‘At least I know what to expect.’ He took a sip of coffee. ‘I’m sorry about Ryan.’
‘It’s fine.’
Why do I keep saying it’s fine? Of course it’s not bloody fine.
His lips turned into a closed smile, but his eyes were vacant. What horrors had he seen? What had drawn the life from his eyes?
‘Strange things have been happening,’ she said.
Balding watched her as he sipped his coffee.
‘They are difficult to describe, because they make me sound crazy.’
‘I’m not here to judge, I’m here to help.’
‘Well, yesterday, Ryan’s belongings went missing.’
‘Missing?’
‘Yes. I came home to find that all of his belongings were gone: clothes, books, toiletries. Even his reading glasses.’
‘Would anyone else take them?’
‘The only other person who has a key to the house is my mother-in-law, but she swears that she didn’t take anything. And not long before that, I woke up to find a home video of Chloe and Ryan playing on the TV. But I didn’t put the video on myself. I woke up, and it was playing.’
Balding went to comment, but Paige continued.
‘Smaller things have happened, too: I’ll go to sleep in my nightgown and wake up naked with my nightgown folded up inside my drawer. I’ll leave the curtains open and wake up to them closed. Small things, but they add to the bigger picture in all of this.’
‘I heard about what happened at the graveyard.’
‘Yes, the graveyard – something happened there, too. The police officers asked me about another car being there, as though someone had followed me and watched me.’
‘Paige, you drink. You drink a lot. Are you sure you didn’t do these things yourself and forget? The video? Taking off your nightgown in the night? Getting rid of Ryan’s things?’
He doesn’t believe me. He thinks I’m insane.
‘I didn’t do those things, Graham. I came home and his things were gone. I woke up to the video playing – I haven’t watched those films in years. I would remember getting them out again.’