by Farah Ali
Lila struggled knowing that if she breathed in the sickly sweet fumes she was doomed. But it was impossible. Her knees grew weak and her eyelids fluttered. Her last thought was of Jack.
‘Did you do it?’ Alma peered tentatively into the bathroom. She clasped her hands together at the sight of Lila limp on the bathmat.
‘Uh-huh, I got her. But she cut me.’
He raised his arm to show her the oozing wound. Rooting for a tissue in his pocket Bert dabbed the stinging cut and mopped up the dripping blood before it splattered the tiled floor. Leaving blood behind would be a stupid thing to do—he didn’t want anyone to think something had happened to Lila straight away. It was a shame he’d broken the door, but the girl hadn’t given him much choice—by itself it shouldn’t mean anything to the police. He picked up the bloodied razor blade and wrapped it up in the tissue before flushing both down the toilet.
‘So, is she really psychic then?’
Alma snorted. ‘No. Just crazy. Lucky guesses and coincidences, that’s all.’
Bert nodded, but he caught the quaver in Alma’s voice. Lila had frightened her. He flexed his fingers which were beginning to itch in the gloves. Alma didn’t have fingerprints so there wasn’t anything to worry about. He looked down. Lila’s hair partially covered her face. She had long, slender limbs and knobbly wrists like Norma.
Oddly enough a faint swell of pity stirred inside him. You shouldn’t have gotten involved, kid. You’ve made Alma very angry. She’s going to make you hurt.
Alma stood next to him and poked Lila with her foot.
‘What are you waiting for, Bert? Tie her up and let’s go. We’ve been here too long already.’ Alma fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot. She missed the cabin and the forest—she suffered from more than a trace of agoraphobia and didn’t like being away for long.
Bert tied Lila’s wrists and ankles before hoisting her over his shoulder. On their way out Lila’s foot caught a basket and it tumbled to the floor. Bert attempted to tidy it but Alma snapped at him.
‘Leave it. It doesn’t matter.’
‘Uh-huh. Sorry, love.’
It was twilight by the time they hurried towards the car. More out of habit then need, Alma took her sunglasses from her handbag and put them on while Bert turned from side to side, tensely scanning the landscape. But apart from crows coming to roost in the trees they were alone.
Thuds and bumps roused Lila, but when she opened groggy eyes the world was black. She was on her side and cramped. She couldn’t stretch her legs without thumping against something and she realised her ankles were tied as were her wrists. Her shoulders hurt and she attempted to roll onto her back, but she hit the sides and the top of whatever she was trapped in. Smothered by panic Lila stopped thrashing and keened in between shallow gasps.
A coffin? I’m in a coffin, oh dear God they’re burying me alive—
A faint honk made her freeze and she almost fainted in relief as she realised she was moving. She was in the boot of a car, not a coffin.
Another band of terror tightened around her. Alma and Bert, a couple, not a single killer, a male and female, a team. No wonder her visions had been so jumbled and confused. The car came to a sharp halt and Lila’s head banged against the metal interior.
What were they going to do to her? Slowly spinning bodies faded in and out of the darkness. Lila screamed.
She was still screaming when the boot opened and Bert peered in, his dull eyes grave, a small smile playing on his thick lips.
‘Good lord, is she awake already? Stop that racket will you, Bert?’
He reached towards Lila and tied a rag around her mouth. It would be so much easier to dispose of her, but Alma wanted her alive. With a grunt Bert lifted her out and lumbered towards Alma who was tapping her foot impatiently on the scrubby grass.
Alma turned back once to ensure the car was hidden properly. It was. She switched on the torch and followed Bert. Soon the three of them were swallowed by the grim, silent forest.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jack drove past the old windmill and braked hard spraying dirt and gravel across the verge. He flung the door open and ran towards the bungalow with a beautiful front garden belonging to Lila’s nearest neighbour. A grey-haired man wearing a grimy fedora and sucking on a wooden pipe stood up at his approach a trowel dangling in one hand.
‘Where’s the fire?’
‘Have you seen Lila Cassandra?’ Jack thrust his badge out.
‘Lila? My neighbour?’ Garrett scratched his nose. ‘How come? She in trouble? Why don’t you do something about those hooligans hanging around the park and stop bothering the rest of us.’
Jack shook his head impatiently. ‘No, she’s not in any trouble. She’s missing.’
‘Missing, eh? Well, that’s different.’ He squinted in an effort of concentration. ‘Now when did I see her last, let me think. Not for a couple of days I’d say. How long she been missing?’
‘Since yesterday evening. She hasn’t returned home and her family don’t know where she is.’
Garrett scoffed and put his pipe away. He removed a stick of gum from a pocket and folded it into his mouth.
‘The Gallahues? Of course they wouldn’t know where she is. Shameful it was the way that uncle of hers sent her away after all that happened.’ He clicked his tongue with relish. ‘Of course you weren’t around back then, but her father went crazy and—’
‘I’m aware of that, sir. I really need to find her. So you haven’t seen her?’
Lila’s neighbour scanned Jack’s ashen face with a shrewd eye. ‘No. No I haven’t seen her. It’s serious isn’t it? You think she’s been taken by that maniac don’t you?’
Jack passed a hand over his mouth. ‘We don’t know, but we’re worried about her.’
Garrett took his hat off and dusted it. ‘That’s a real shame, she’s a good girl.’
‘Has anyone been hanging around lately? Anyone who stood out to you?’
‘Nope. Just you.’ Garrett met his eyes and to Jack’s chagrin he felt his cheeks grow hot.
‘Nobody else?’
He shook his head and replaced the fedora. ‘No. I can’t really see Lila’s from here you know, that eyesore of a windmill’s in the way. My wife is out of town otherwise I could ask her. I might walk or drive past when I’m going up the lane but...’ he shrugged.
Jack’s shoulders slumped. ‘So nothing struck you as out of the ordinary? It could be anything, no matter how small.’ He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice and failed.
Garrett cocked his head smacking the gum around his mouth. Jack resisted the urge to grab the man and shake him into speech.
‘Well, now you mention it, I suppose I did drive past yesterday on the way to my friend Tom’s house. He’s just bought a new guard dog and I wanted to go and see it. Early evening I think it was. I saw a black car parked near Lila’s. Nothing strange about that, but this car stood out because it was a Cadillac, you know, like vintage. Don’t see many of those around. It reminded me of the car my old man used to drive. It was in excellent condition.’
Jack whipped out a notebook and scribbled down the details as Garrett droned on. His excitement rose. It was a start. It could be nothing or everything and at least he had something to work on.
‘Can I use your phone? I can’t see a telephone box around here.’ He would tell Maggie so she could let the others know when they called or returned to the station.
Garret chuckled. ‘Of course. It must be hard for you policemen without radios or mobile phones. Come on in. Wipe your feet though—we’ve upgraded our carpet and the missus will tear me a new one otherwise.’
***
Rough bark scratched Lila raw as she twisted against the sturdy rope binding her wrists.
Bert had dumped her onto the ground and tied her to a tree all night, her legs splayed in front of her, the gag stuffed into her mouth sodden with saliva. The temperature dropped and she spent a miserable night trembling, tr
ying not to choke, her hands and feet numb with cold. She dozed off in fits and starts, desperately seeking the solace of unconsciousness, but she was too uncomfortable and agitated to sleep.
The pitch-dark frightened Lila. The forest had transformed into a menacing organism full of furtive movements and shrill cries that made her bite the inside of her cheeks.
After the seemingly endless foray into the forest, her head bouncing off Bert’s broad back, breathing in the odour of his sweat and listening to Alma’s guttural murmuring they arrived at the cabin—a homely wooden structure. Lila’s sense of direction was completely askew by this point, but she knew they were nowhere near any of the mapped trails. No one will ever find me. I’m going to die here and no one will know what happened to me. But I can’t die, not yet, not when I don’t know who murdered Mama, Papa and Maura.
As the sun rose and milky light filtered through the trees Lila’s hysteria subsided a little and she tried to focus.
She sensed it was Alma who harboured rage towards her—Bert was indifferent and only going along with what his wife wanted. Yet his strength and bullish loyalty made him just as dangerous and Lila knew he wouldn’t hesitate to break her in half if Alma asked him to.
Still, a brief glimmer of hope flared inside her. Perhaps there was a way to drive a wedge between them. Lila closed her sore eyes. She didn’t feel well at all. Her head felt fuzzy, there was a metallic taste in her mouth and her arms and legs tingled.
The cabin door swung open with a pained creak and Bert emerged, stretching and taking deep breaths of crisp morning air. He looked towards her but made no movement in her direction. Soon, Alma joined him and they held hands, a short cherry-red wig on her head. Lila couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she cringed as they focused their attention onto her. After binding her to the tree last night they had gone inside, the sounds of their urgent love-making drifting over to Lila through the open window.
They’re going to hang me like the other girls maybe even cut me open afterwards. Tears ran down Lila’s cheeks as her mind grappled with her fate.
No. Don’t cry. Fight.
A desperate despair surged in her veins. Lila shut her eyes and summoned all her inner strength, all the power inside her, all the special electrical energy she tapped into when giving a reading or communicating with the dead. Pressure built until it became unbearable and with an anguished roar she scattered her pain across the trees, through the forest, towards the mountain.
Help me. Please. Anyone, help me.
There was no answer. Limp, she fell forwards exhausted, panting, choking on the gag. Bells chimed, softly at first and then louder as Bert and Alma strode over. Bert leaned down and removed the gag, studying her closely.
‘Why are you making a racket? Screaming like an animal. Shut up at once,’ barked Alma.
‘She looks ill. She’s gone all grey.’
A cacophony of bells sounded in Lila’s ears. Her eyes rolled up and she twitched and writhed against the tree trunk.
Alma grabbed his wrist. ‘Urgh. What’s she doing? What’s wrong? Is she having a stroke? Bert!’
‘I don’t know what’s wrong, Alma quit yelling.’
Alma had dug her fingernails into his arm and Bert snatched it away. His first thought was the girl was pretending, but as she continued to spasm his concern grew.
‘I better untie her before her arms pop out of her sockets.’
Bert laid her out on the ground and hurriedly stepped away as if whatever she had was contagious. He frowned, perplexed. Then his forehead cleared.
‘Ah, epilepsy. I bet she’s an epileptic. My father had it, I remember once we—’
‘Oh good. She’s stopped.’ Alma peered at Lila in distaste.
Lila blinked and stared up at Alma and Bert, sleepy and disoriented until the horror of her situation crashed back over her. Lack of medication, dehydration and acute stress had taken its toll. The memory of a previous seizure rose up unbidden—waking up in Jack’s arms, feeling comforted by his body and concern. She moaned at the memory. There was a cottony sensation in her head and mouth.
‘Water. Please, I need water.’
Alma sneered, but Bert went back into the cabin. Shakily, Lila sat up and drank deeply from the cheerful melamine cup he handed to her, water dribbling down her chin.
She looked from one to the other, knowing it was pointless but asking anyway. ‘Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I’ll leave you alone I promise.’
Alma nodded and Lila’s was seized with hope. She hadn’t had time to put on her makeup yet and without the garish colours Alma looked vulnerable and less frightening.
‘Do you promise?’ she asked softly.
Lila’s head jerked up and down. With a smirk Alma kneeled and wrapped the gag around her mouth, grunting as she tugged at the knot.
‘Why don’t I believe you? Tie her up again, Bert. I’m not ready for her yet.’ She checked her dainty rose-gold wrist watch. ‘You better have your wash and get ready for work.’
Bert looked down at Lila. ‘Are you sure? Don’t you think I should stay?’
Alma touched his cheek. ‘No, love. It’ll look suspicious if you don’t go to work as normal. Once she’s tied up, I’ll be fine. And remember, you’ve only got a half-day today.’
Reassured, Bert kissed her hand. ‘That’s right. But whatever you do don’t untie her, okay? No matter what she does.’
Bound even tighter than before Lila watched Bert disappear into the trees. She drowsed against the tree trunk waking up with a start when Alma passed by singing with a watering can in one hand and disappearing behind the cabin.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jack swore, slamming down the brake pedal as the car screeched to a halt, narrowly missing impact with three teenagers on skateboards. He blasted the horn and the girl, without even looking, kissed her middle finger and brandished it in his general direction.
Squeezing the steering wheel Jack caught sight of his reflection and grimaced at the puffy face and bloodshot eyes staring back at him. He looked hung-over, but he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since coming to Deerleap.
Lila had been missing for seventeen hours. They hadn’t located the vintage black car and there was no sign of her anywhere. She’s in the forest. I know it. He’s taken her into the forest. She’s probably dead. It’s all your fault. Same with Angela and Oliver. You should have protected her.
Desolation tightened its grip around his throat. Jack slammed his hands against the steering wheel, beating it, welcoming the stinging pain. An old lady hunched over a walking stick crossed the road, made eye contact and hurriedly looked away, increasing her pace.
‘She’s not dead. She’s not. I can find her,’ murmured Jack. ‘I will find her.’
Yes, you will. After he hangs her, slits her open and stuffs her with flowers.
He couldn’t breathe. In a violent movement he mounted the kerb and threw himself out of the car, his hands on his knees drawing in deep, whooping breaths.
‘Excuse me,’ said a polite, girlish voice.
Jack moved out of the pedestrian’s way and she shot him a curious sidelong glance. He looked after her unseeing. Petite and pert in a denim jacket over a pink and white striped uniform, a hand bag bouncing against her waist. He straightened, confused. There was something he needed to remember, something Lila had said to him. He rubbed his forehead, frustrated, until fragments of conversation came back to him.
Pink and white stripes. On autopilot Jack followed Mimi down the road, deep in thought. Lila had seen pink and white stripes in a vision. They’d thought it was a random, meaningless detail and dismissed it.
Mimi disappeared into Happy Cones. Jack stood outside gazing through the window. Staff and customers milled about, unconcerned, enjoying their day. Jack had never eaten there but Alika had recommended it more than once. Mimi waved to a friend and vanished into the back.
Jack hesitated then stepped inside. There was a small queue at the count
er. He loitered pretending to examine the sparkling tubs of ice cream. Discreetly he studied the staff—young people mostly—easily recognisable in their uniform. Plenty of pink and white stripes around here.
Mimi emerged without her jacket and took her place at the counter replacing a stocky balding man. Jack studied him with interest. In any other environment he would be completely nondescript, but here he stood out.
The man pretended to stretch and said something to the girl who giggled before disappearing into the back. Jack ducked his head when he returned with a rucksack on his shoulder.
‘Bye, Mimi,’ he called out and stomped outside.
‘See ya, Bert.’
Jack left Happy Cones, noting the direction Bert was walking in before getting back behind the wheel. He trailed Bert to a car park and turned in himself, pretending to park. When he saw the black Cadillac Bert climbed into his pulse rate quickened and he waited for the car to swing by before following.
Taking a deep breath, Jack decided to pull Bert over. He flashed his lights and stuck his arm out of the window until the car came to a standstill.
Bert wound down the window and smiled pleasantly at Jack. The smile faltered a little when Jack displayed his badge.
‘I wasn’t speeding was I?’
‘No, not at all, sir. A young woman has gone missing. Lila Cassandra. I’m out looking for her.’ He showed Bert a picture Daisy had given him. ‘Have you seen her?’
Bert rubbed his nose. ‘Nope. I can’t say I have, though I see so many people on my shift I wouldn’t be able to remember. I work in Happy Cones.’
‘I see. Silly uniform you have to wear. Pink isn’t right for a man, a little girly don’t you think?’ Jack grinned, being deliberately provocative.
Bert’s eyes grew cold as a flush crept over his forehead. He opened his mouth to retort then closed it again.
Jack leaned in, scanning his solid features. ‘And you are?’
There was a lingering pause. Jack’s eyebrow rose.