Nausea rose in my stomach with the dread of what I was hearing. I had always feared some kind of ritual, but even in my darkest imaginings, I hadn’t envisaged this. The words slipping from Sam’s lips flashed up vile images, and I was wondering what he meant by ‘assault.’
“So it’s true, then,” Joe interrupted. “They were a bunch of paedos.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Sam whispered.
“What’s wrong, Sam?” Joe asked. “Did they mess with you too?”
He squeezed his eyes shut, his face creased in pain. “I was sobbing, Joe, terrified of this - this creature crouched over me, it was like something out of a horror film. Then I heard a snarl. He told me to keep quiet, otherwise he’d kill me and that’s when he pulled out a dagger...”
“What?” Joe spluttered. “He threatened you with a blade?”
“Threatened to slice my penis off... cut my chest open and offer my beating heart as a sacrifice.”
“But that’s sick! Did you see his face?”
“Not a face,” Sam said coldly, “just a silhouette, but an image I will never forget as long as I live. Sharp and hawk-like, beaky nose. You know the peer who was done for kiddie porn?”
“Not Lord Parker-Smythe?” I gasped.
“Yes. I’d seen him before too, at Orchard Grange, and I’d swear on my mum’s grave it was the same bloke!”
“But those threats... oh my God!”
“Yeah,” he shuddered, “just thank God it never got worse, ‘cos a moment later he backed off. Some disturbance in the woods spooked them.”
“Disturbance?” Joe choked.
“I thought I saw beams flickering through the trees some distance away, headlights of another vehicle, perhaps? I’ll never know. I was just lying there, paralysed with fear, about to lose consciousness, thinking I was gonna die...”
“But are you saying there was someone else in the forest?”
“All I remember is the chaos, how quickly the torches went out. How it was so bloody dark, there was no telling what was going on, but suddenly we were on the move again, leaving the forest. I think you and I were the lucky ones, Joe.”
“Lucky ones,” Joe bristled. “You reckon someone saved us?”
“I dunno. I passed out,” he finished, “and that, my friend, is why I survived to tell the tale. It’s not a happy ending, but you need to hear the whole story, the reason you never saw me again after that night.”
Chapter Forty-Three
An uncomfortable knot of silence gripped the three of them.
Joe sat frozen in his chair, but even in the darkest recess of his mind, he could not help imagining himself lying there.
One of six helpless boys at the mercy of those monsters.
“Christ, Sam,” Maisie breathed. Her eyes flashed with panic, serving a timely reminder of all they had suffered. “Have you reported this to the police?”
“I have now,” he shuddered. “All I ever wanted to do was forget the whole ordeal, until the investigation arose, but as soon as the name ‘Orchard Grange’ came up, I was wondering if the victims might be you two.”
“But you haven’t explained where you went,” Joe said.
At last Sam lifted his eyes. “I was coming to that.”
Sadness hung in their depths as they held his gaze, but Joe was beyond feeling sympathy. Sam’s story left a minefield of gaping holes, and Joe was not going to leave this room until he had answers.
“Good,” he said. “‘Cos d’you have any idea how worried we were?”
“I do - but just before dawn the police turned up at Orchard Grange...” He bit his lip. “I thought they were there to arrest Mortimer and his thugs but I was wrong. Turns out some ‘estranged family member’ had been in touch and asked them to come and collect me.”
Joe felt his chest tighten, his thoughts a confused muddle.
All those years cloaked in mystery, and this was the reason he had awoken to find Sam’s bed empty?
“It’s all beginning to make sense,” Maisie gasped. “This is the story your social worker told Sarah.”
“And the reason I never came back,” Sam said, his voice deep with remorse.
“So who was it?” Joe snapped. “This ‘estranged’ family member?”
“Well, you’re never going to believe this - but it was my father.”
“I thought you hated your father,” Maisie whispered.
“I did. Especially after the way he treated Mum, but I had to consider his power. Put it this way, I was led to believe that he was the one who requested a patrol went out, seeking out the whereabouts of that party.”
Joe frowned, struggling to take it in. “But why the fuck would he do that? After all those years he wanted nothing to do with you?”
“I know. It sounds mental and I thought the same. That he’d be glad to be shot of me. The truth is, though, he was really cut up about Mum’s murder, and once he’d found me, he chose to do the right thing. Couldn’t get me out of Orchard Grange fast enough, to whisk me up to the Scottish Highlands and into the family fold.” He gave a cynical sniff. “I won’t pretend I had a great childhood ‘cos I didn’t. The man was a total control freak, but that’s not the point...”
Joe’s heart sank. Looking at Sam now, he so much wanted to console him, yet his disclosure felt more like a betrayal.
“Yeah, well that’s all very well, Sam, but let’s go back to the morning after the party. Maisie and I were scared shitless. You’ve got no idea what Mortimer was like either, have you? Hassling him about your whereabouts did me no favours, he behaved like a fucking monster!”
“He would do,” Sam said, “and I’m sorry, but it all happened so fast.”
“So your dad took you away, while Maisie and I were stuck there. But what did you do? Given that stuff you saw going on in the forest, did you actually consider telling anyone?”
“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. “You seriously think I kept quiet? I was in shock! If it’s any consolation, I told my social worker.” His head hung low, his shoulders crunched with tension.
Yet the over-riding emotion surging through Joe’s mind was outrage. “Told her what, exactly?”
“That I witnessed abuse of the worst kind. Satanic, ritualistic, call it what you like, Joe... but that’s what it was.”
A shivering breath escaped Maisie’s lips. “Then why was nothing done?”
“I wish I knew,” he responded sadly, “yet by the time I was in Scotland it was out of my control. I was powerless, Maisie, you’ve got to believe me.”
“It’s okay,” she soothed, “and I do believe you.”
A tap on the door signalled an end to the conversation. Although it seemed Sam had not quite finished, his words bursting out in a whisper.
“I was completely isolated and I’m sorry I lost touch with you guys, but that’s another story... Something I’ll save for another day.”
The sight of DS Havers at the door brought a wave of relief, although Joe was still reeling in the horror of Sam’s story.
“How are you getting on in here?” said the sergeant with a smile. “Andrew asked me to check up on you.”
“We’re fine,” Maisie sighed. “It’s great to see Sam again and I think we’ve had enough time to get our heads around this.”
Joe swallowed back the lump in his throat. ‘Fine’ was not the word he would have chosen to describe how he was feeling; and whilst seeing Sam alive was a miracle in itself, his story left him cold.
“Excellent,” the sergeant nodded, “and I’m sorry if this seems a bit ‘cloak and dagger.’ It wasn’t our intention to shock you, but we had to review Sam’s statement before you had a chance to confer. Because believe me, when this case is passed to the CPS they’ll pick over every minor detail, including our own procedures.”
“Fair enough,” Sam nodded.
He kept his expression neutral; though following the sergeant back to the lobby, Joe could not resist hurling a suspicious glance in
his direction. He had endured a lifetime of hell escaping the ever-looming menace of Mortimer, and the fact remained that there were a hundred more questions he wanted to ask Sam.
“So this place you were taken,” he muttered. “Where was it? You mentioned the Scottish Highlands...”
“Would it help if I showed you this?” Sam said. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he scooped out his i-Phone. “This is where I grew up.”
Next he pulled up a photo on Facebook. Joe stared at it, saying nothing at first. All the snapshot revealed was a group of people gathered outside an imposing grey building. Constructed in worn, irregular stones, it conveyed a historic look.
“Galbraith Castle,” Sam added. “Home to the McFadden family.”
It wasn’t the castle that had captured Joe’s interest, though. As his eyes wandered along the line of faces, they paused on a tall, powerful looking man. Poised proudly at the centre, not only did he boast a shock of white-blonde hair but a square-jawed face not dissimilar to that of the adult Sam now walking beside him.
But as his eyes explored further, he felt a punch of shock.
The other people held no significance, apart from one tiny figure almost lost in the shadows. Sam. This was without doubt the same boy he had battled to protect in the dark days of Orchard Grange, a boy whose widely-spaced brown eyes had haunted him for a lifetime.
“Sam Ellis...” The words fell out of his mouth automatically, and gaping at the man next to him, the truth was finally beginning to take shape.
“I was re-named Samuel McFadden,” he added softly.
He never got to say any more. Those last few steps had drawn them back to the area they had first entered, the remaining two police officers awaiting them.
“So what now?” Maisie asked.
“You’re free to go,” Mark said. “I was about to make my way back to Sussex but I expect you three have got a bit more catching up to do.”
“We’ll keep you updated,” DI Fitzpatrick added warmly, “by email if you like... and I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I’d rather you didn’t discuss this case out in the open. There may be journalists sniffing around.”
“Other than that, just take good care of yourselves,” Mark added.
Only then did Joe notice he was the only one who wasn’t smiling.
Gathered on the pavement, they stood like silent statues. Nobody knew what to say at first, and oblivious to the bustle of London life unfolding around them, they did nothing but exchange nervous glances. Sam clutched his i-Phone, the image on Facebook suspended in time.
“Are either of you on Facebook?”
It seemed such a vapid comment.
Maisie risked a chuckle. “I am.”
But Joe shook his head, feeling a stir of unease. “No way, mate, I suffered enough trolling on Twitter.”
He was no longer looking at Sam, but could still feel the weight of his stare.
“Trolling?”
Joe shrugged. “There’s shit loads we haven’t told you, but like the DI says, we’d best not talk about it out here.”
“Then why don’t we go somewhere else?” Sam suggested. “Seems a shame to depart so soon...” Shooting a sideways glance to check the coast was clear, he seemed as wary as Maisie had done earlier. “Do you fancy going for a bite? I know a great place in Covent Garden.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Joe said to Maisie. “Covent Garden is where we left Jess, so why don’t I text her? She’ll be wondering where we’ve been all this time.”
“Jess?” Sam frowned.
“My girlfriend,” he murmured, unable to fight the smile on his face. “Don’t worry, she’s well clued up...” and fumbling for his mobile, he prodded out a text:
‘Hi ya babe all done can’t wait to see ya xxx.’
Though no sooner had he hit ‘send’ than he noticed Sam still watching him.
“Cool,” he muttered. “I look forward to meeting her...” His eyes pierced into Joe’s with a glint. “So let’s walk. I want to hear your take on this, Joe, and you can talk quietly... but what exactly happened after I vanished?”
Chapter Forty-Four
Trailing along behind, I couldn’t hear what they were whispering. But with Joe gesticulating wildly, eyes black with loathing, I guess it had a lot to do with Mortimer. I could understand his outrage.
It was hard to believe that story about Sam being adopted.
So why had Mortimer been so hostile? If this was the truth, as Sam had corroborated, then surely he had little to fear.
By the time we returned to Covent Garden, I was beginning to feel light-headed. The last couple of hours had been an emotional roller coaster, but what a joy it was to see Sam alive.
At least Sarah’s detective work had paid off.
My footsteps slowed as I observed the two heads shimmering in front of me; one dark, one blond, the three of us back together.
“Alright, Maisie?” Joe murmured, turning to me. “Jess is gonna hook up with us in a bit, so we might as well head for this place Sam suggested.”
“It’s just around the corner,” Sam said. “I think a long overdue drink is in order, don’t you?”
Looking at him now, I felt the warmth of his eyes slide over me and it filled my heart with promise...
A few minutes later, we found ourselves in the basement bar of a stylish Louisiana barbecue and seafood shack. I loved the dark cavernous interior, the exposed brick walls and hardwood floors, but most importantly, it made me feel safe. Shuffling into a corner table, we basked in the shadows, where at last I felt the tension drop from my shoulders.
“Cool place,” Joe said, echoing my thoughts, “right away from the main drag, so we can talk.”
Sam smiled, quick to order a bottle of Merlot. “This is on me, by the way.”
“That’s very generous,” I mumbled.
It didn’t seem long though, before we were back on the subject of Orchard Grange. For Joe, whilst pacified, didn’t seem entirely satisfied with Sam’s explanation.
“You’ve got no idea what it was like, forever on the run with Mortimer on my case, and he’s still out there. I might be dead now, if it wasn’t for my workmates.”
“You do know someone tried to run Joe over,” I pressed. “That thug Mortimer hired, Schiller, which reminds me of something else I haven’t told you...”
I took a deep breath, my thoughts focussed on the police interview.
What I hadn’t described was the CCTV footage taken in my home town.
“Not long after Joe and I met up, we discovered we were being watched. But you know that black car? Turns out it was tailing me long before then...”
Joe looked horrified, urging me to continue. Sinister though it seemed, the ANPR had not only captured its presence in Bognor; but on the days I attended therapy, it was lurking near the junction of London Road and Sudley Road, a quiet residential street, housing several small companies.
“It’s where Hannah has her practice,” I finished. “My therapist.”
“Strange,” Sam pondered. “What kind of therapist is she?”
“A psychotherapist. She’s been helping me with my emotional issues. Take my nightmares, for example. They started in my teens but recurred again in January.”
Sam leaned inwards, keen to catch my eye. “So you said, and I should have asked you before, but what are these dreams about?”
A flurry of goose-pimples ran over my skin. “Staring up at the sky under a circle of trees - chanting - a procession of hooded figures coming for us... but they never really progressed much beyond that point.”
“Must be a repressed memory,” Sam concluded.
I looked away quickly. Gulping back my fear, I could not bear to dwell on it now. Not after the atrocities he had described.
“Then once I started therapy, I had flashbacks,” I added. “Orchard Grange featured a lot, so I knew whatever problems I had stemmed from there.”
“God, Maisie,” Sam whispered, his face a picture of
woe, “I feel for you both but there’s something I don’t get. Why did Mortimer come after you? Surely I must have posed an even greater threat.”
I paused, glancing at Joe. Fuming in silence, he took another swig of wine.
“We’ll never know, will we?” he reflected. “You had it easy. Driven up to Scotland and well out of his reach. Maisie went to live with foster parents and I was kept in that shit hole. That was, until Mortimer’s threats got so nasty I had to leg it.”
With a sigh of frustration, Sam topped up his glass, before his gaze shifted to me again. It was evident Joe’s anger was not lost on him.
“How soon were you fostered after the night in question, then? And did it all seem a bit sudden?”
“Yes. It wasn’t long after you vanished that Mortimer signed the paperwork. He said I could leave and I remember thinking was this just another ploy to split me and Joe up?” With my thoughts anchored on Joe, I met his gaze with a sigh. “You know the rest! I told my foster parents you were in danger and they tried to contact the home but you’d already run away.”
“Bloody good job too,” Sam muttered.
“Yes, well moving on,” Joe intervened, “what I’m dying to know is why you never tried contacting us. It might have helped to know you were safe.”
“I understand where you’re coming from, Joe,” Sam whispered, “and if only it was that simple...” His eyes flashed in the shadows, transmitting a warning. “I never wanted to mention this, and I can’t say too much, but my father forced me to sever all connections from Orchard Grange and everyone associated with it, including my two best friends.”
“The mighty Judge McFadden,” Joe kept baiting him.
“You’ve got no idea,” Sam protested, his voice choked with sadness, “but all he cared about was the McFadden family reputation. I wasn’t allowed any contact with the outside world. They kept me hidden. I even thought about writing to you guys, but my father wouldn’t hear of it.”
Lethal Ties Page 24