by Sharon Jones
Michael would think that she was keeping him waiting just to be awkward. At this rate they’d end up having a domestic to rival Pete and Sally’s. Poppy glanced back at the door to the farmhouse. Wow, had Sally really thought that she and Pete were up to something? He didn’t look the type to go chasing after younger women. Unlike his dad, who’d looked exactly the type.
Poppy’s legs stopped moving.
No! It couldn’t be.
With all that had happened, she’d forgotten that Maya had been looking for her dad. She’d assumed he was someone at the festival, but what was it Kane had said about this place being in her blood? It was just what Pete had said about his dad. The question was, did Kane kill her before she got a chance to meet him?
For a second, Poppy thought about going back to the house – Pete had a right to know if Maya was his half-sister – but talk about an awkward conversation. Hey, Pete, is it possible your old man might have had an affair? Nahh. She’d talk to Bob first, and see what he thought. Right now she had to get back to Michael.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
‘Excuse me?’
Michael looked up from willing his phone to ring. It was the detective who’d interviewed Poppy yesterday. Underneath his grey suit jacket, his shirt was creased and there was what looked like a coffee stain dribbled down his pale blue tie. He looked bloody rough and not at all happy.
‘Is Poppy around?’ he asked Meg.
She stuffed the bag she was holding into the back of the Saab and rested her hands on her hips. ‘Do you need her for something?’
The detective rubbed his fingers over his lip and his eyes scanned the dismantled festival ground. ‘Any idea where she’s gone?’
‘She wanted to say goodbye to a couple of people. I actually thought she’d be back by now.’ Meg folded her arms over her chest, just the way Poppy did when she felt uncomfortable. ‘What is it?’
Jonathan, who’d been taking down Poppy’s tent, came to stand next to Meg and slid an arm around her shoulder.
‘What’s going on?’
‘Sergeant Grant wants to see Poppy.’
Michael felt his chest tightening. There was something about the way the detective wasn’t looking directly at them that made him nervous.
‘Has she got her phone with her?’ DS Grant asked, pulling a radio off his belt.
‘She texted a while ago to say that she was on her way,’ Michael replied. ‘I’m sure she won’t be long.’
‘Would you mind giving her a call?’
‘What’s going on? Why do you need her?’ Michael asked.
‘Please, just give her a call,’ the policeman said, before holding his radio up to his mouth and turning away from them.
Meg squeezed Michael’s arm. ‘Try her again.’
He hit the speed dial.
‘Hi, this is Poppy, leave a message.’
‘It’s going through to voicemail,’ he said, waiting for the beep. ‘Poppy, it’s me. Can you call me as soon as you get this? I’m not mucking about. The police are here and I think they need to talk to you.’ He cut the call and sighed.
At the same time, DS Grant looked up from his radio and raised his eyebrows. ‘Any joy?’
Michael shook his head.
He put the radio back to his mouth. ‘She’s not here and nobody knows where she is. Yeah, ask the guys to keep an eye out.’
‘What’s going on? What’s the panic?’ Meg asked. Her voice had gone up in pitch and if the detective didn’t spill some information soon, Michael suspected that before very long there would be shouting.
DS Grant bit his lip, as if unsure what lies to tell first. He slid the radio back onto his belt and inhaled deeply. ‘A witness has come forward. Says he was with Kane the night Beth died. Says there’s no way Kane could have killed her.’
If Kane didn’t kill Beth, then who the hell did?
Michael called Poppy again. It went straight through to the answering service.
‘Shit!’ he cursed. Either she was somewhere with no signal, or she didn’t want to be disturbed or... His gaze settled on the few remaining food vans on the other side of the festival ground.
He cut the call.
Meg raised her eyebrows at him in a question.
He shook his head and looked out across the field to the food vans. ‘She’s not answering. I have an idea where she might be, though.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Poppy ran, slowing to check her phone signal every few paces. Only when she reached the bluff did enough bars appear to make a call.
‘About time,’ she muttered. She tapped in the first few digits of Michael’s number when a voicemail message pinged up on the screen. She tapped OK and held the phone to her ear.
‘Poppy, it’s Michael. Can you call me as soon as you get this? I’m not mucking about. The police are here and I think they need to talk to you.’ He sounded more tense than pissed off. Scared, almost.
What the heck did the police want with her again? She’d told them everything she knew in minute detail, signed her name to a dozen forms and statements. They might be interested in her new theory about Maya’s father, but she wasn’t sure it would make much of a difference to their case. It wasn’t as if Kane would be going to court.
She had returned to the call screen when something moving caught her eye. It was the Druid card she’d left there earlier. The wind had blown it quite a distance from the edge of the bluff and it had caught in a mound of grass that was longer and greener than all the grass around it.
Something about the shape of the mound drew her. It was long and narrow, like a coffin. Like...a grave?
She didn’t want to go any closer, but her feet moved towards the patch of bright green grass. It was as though someone had a hand on her shoulder, pushing her forward. By the time she reached the edge of the mound her legs were shaking. She had to kneel down before she collapsed.
Her hand cupped over her mouth as she stared at the earth.
Maya?
All the times she’d been here and she’d never seen it. But if this was where Kane buried her it would make sense of why he had come up here to kill himself. Kane might have murdered Maya, but he was in love with her in his own crazy way. Maybe he’d wanted to be close to her.
And Beth...had Maya drawn her here? It was always up here... Beth, Kane...her dream...
The implications made her head spin. The gas she was sucking into her lungs didn’t seem to contain any oxygen. She felt like she was drowning, like she was going to throw up.
‘Poppy?’ a voice asked.
Poppy looked up to see Pete standing in the shadow of the trees. ‘What’s wrong?’ He lurched to her side and crouched down beside her.
‘Pete, look,’ she gasped, nodding towards the mound.
‘Look at what?’
‘The grass. It’s been disturbed. I didn’t understand why Kane came up here...but that’s why. I think she’s here.’
Pete hugged an arm around her and squeezed her. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘I need to get down there, find the police.’ She ran a hand over her dripping nose and pushed herself to her feet.
‘No!’ Pete grabbed her arm. ‘You’re in no fit state to go down there by yourself. Come on back to the house. I’ve got that detective’s card on the fridge. We’ll give him a call.’
He was right. Silly to go down there only to have to come back again.
Pete led her back along the worn pathway, through the strip of trees and across the cobbled yard to the farmhouse.
He pushed open the door and gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Go on into the living room and I’ll find that number.’
Poppy nodded and made her way back down the gloomy hallway to the room she’d been desperate to escape from not
ten minutes ago.
Michael was going to kill her. She pulled out her phone. Of course there was no signal, but there was a text message that must have reached her phone before she’d gone into the house. She opened it and read.
u need 2 call me rt now! Kane didn’t kill Beth. Need 2 know ur safe!!!
What?
Poppy’s gaze flicked up to the gallery of family photographs on the whitewashed stonewall, to the picture of Pete’s dad. But her eyes were drawn away from the black and white photograph to another – the one of Pete and Sally sitting on what looked like a sparkly new tractor. Sally in her farming gear, wearing a pink scarf over her patterned pink shirt. A pink scarf that looked a lot like the one Beth was found wearing. The one that had strangled her.
The air flew out of Poppy’s lungs. Every muscle in her body tensed. She’d got it wrong. So wrong. Kane had told her, and she hadn’t heard him.
She saw Kane again, the terror in his eyes. And he’d said that this land was in Maya’s blood! He meant that it was hers, that she belonged here because...her father owned it so she had a claim on it. What if she had tried to claim it?
‘Shit!’
Poppy heard footsteps approaching. She shoved the phone in her pocket and turned to face Pete.
He smiled uneasily. ‘I’ve given the police a call. They’re on their way.’
He was lying. There were no police coming. No one knew where she was – except for Bob! If the police were looking for her then Bob would tell them where she’d gone.
‘Poppy, are you OK?’
She forced herself to smile at Beth’s killer. ‘I just feel a bit sick. Do you mind if I go outside?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Thanks.’ Controlling each step, she walked past Pete, down the hallway, towards the door. If she could just get outside she stood a chance. She could run...call for help.
She reached up to turn the handle but could feel Pete behind her. He wasn’t going to let her out there by herself. He wasn’t going to let her lead the police to Maya’s body. He wasn’t going to let her live.
Unable to control the panic any longer, she wrenched open the door and darted into the sunlight.
A hand clamped onto her wrist and yanked her back.
Pete stared into her eyes and slowly he nodded, as if he’d seen the truth reflected there. ‘You should have left well alone.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
While Meg and Jonathan went to check with Bob and Mo, Michael began walking towards the white trailer van. His pace quickened to a jog. And then a run.
Dealer Boy was bent over, attaching the trailer to an old clapped-out Ford Escort. Michael grabbed his shoulder and pulled him upright. Tariq’s eyes widened and his hand closed into a fist.
‘Have you seen Poppy?’ Michael asked quickly. As much as he’d love nothing more than to get into it with this guy, fighting now would waste time.
Tariq frowned. ‘Why d’you wanna know?’
‘Have you seen her?’
Tariq yanked his shoulder out of Michael’s grip. ‘Yeah. She was here, about an hour ago.’
Michael swallowed against his dry throat. Of course she’d say goodbye to the guy, it made perfect sense, but he couldn’t help feeling...what...jealous?
‘Nothing happened,’ Tariq said, breaking into his thoughts. ‘It’s not me she’s interested in.’
Poppy had told him about what had happened between them? Michael nodded, but it didn’t stop his muscles from tensing. ‘Do you know where she went?’
‘What’s the problem, what’s going on?’
‘The guy who they thought murdered those girls? Turned out he had an alibi. She said she was on her way twenty-five minutes ago.’ Michael spun around. ‘So where is she?’
There were a couple of kids playing with water balloons at the edge of the wood. There were adults too – chatting and mucking about. Not one of them was Poppy. He pulled out his phone and hit speed dial. As he expected – Poppy’s phone rang out. He sighed and tried to hold back the profanities until the answering service kicked in.
There was a click and then a rustling noise. But there was no pre-recorded greeting. She’d actually answered. He started with a few choice words but then stopped and listened.
‘I’ll help you look for her, yeah?’ Tariq said.
Michael put out a hand to shut him up. ‘Poppy? Poppy, are you there? Can you hear me?’
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
‘How did you work it out?’ Pete asked. He had a tight hold on her arm and was dragging her across the cobbled farmyard. She stumbled but Pete hauled her to her feet and continued pulling her along. Her pocket was vibrating. Someone was calling her. She slipped her hand inside and dragged her finger across the screen, hoping it would answer the call.
‘I don’t know what you mean, Pete! Please don’t hurt me!’
She tried to speak loud enough that whoever had called could hear. But what was the point? She wasn’t even sure it had connected, and the further they moved away from the yard, the more likely it was that her phone would lose signal.
‘Pete! Please! Can we go back to the farmhouse and talk? Whatever you think I’ve done, you’ve got the wrong end of the stick.’
‘I liked you,’ he said, angrily. ‘Seemed like a nice girl. Not like a lot of them down there.’
He was talking about her in the past tense – that didn’t bode well.
She tried to yank her arm out of his grip, but he just pulled her against his chest and part pushed, part carried her past the outbuildings, past a set of kennels where three sheepdogs wagged their tails excitedly.
‘Let me go!’ she shouted. He’d grabbed a shotgun from the house before dragging her out here. Even if he did let her go, she didn’t stand a chance.
‘I didn’t know she was my sister. I’m not a bad person, Poppy. It was her. She threw herself at me. She didn’t tell me she was my sister. Then she wanted money. Said that she’d tell if I didn’t pay up. Said she’d get a lawyer and take the farm away from me. Might look rich, but we’re in trouble with the bank. I couldn’t afford to pay them and her.’
With one arm, he carried Poppy down a steep mud track.
She kicked her heels against his shins, but he didn’t even seem to notice.
Ahead, down the steep mud track that was scarred with tractor tracks, Scariswater was coming into view. Not the shore she knew, but another, more secluded one. Trees hung over the grey waters like broken umbrellas, shielding the bay from view and waves sloshed against the shingle like they were trying to climb ashore; like they were coming to get her.
‘She hurt me too, Pete! Maya – she’s been messing with me. I wanted her dead too!’
He stopped and his grip on her loosened. She fought her way free of him, stumbled and fell hard onto the mud slope. Pain shot through her shoulder but she didn’t have time to feel it. She scrabbled backwards until her feet got traction and she was able to push herself up.
Pete was staring at her. He didn’t know whether to believe her or not. She was going to have to come up with a damn good story, and fast.
‘Why do you think I was looking for her? She messed with my dad,’ Poppy gabbled, saying the first thing that came into her head. ‘She split up my mum and dad, Pete. I hate her. I was going to kill her myself if I found her. Look, I won’t tell anyone. You can trust me. I won’t tell them that you killed her.’ She edged slowly backwards. But the lake was back there, waiting patiently like it had waited all year. Her gaze flashed around.
Woods. Lose him in the woods!
‘Wasn’t me,’ Pete said quietly.
Her feet stopped moving. ‘What?’
‘It was Sally. She lost her temper. She does that – gets all het up. Stabbed her. Then that other girl came looking for her.’<
br />
The Other Girl. Beth.
‘She knew, see. She knew that bitch was my sister. It were only a matter of time before she told someone. Then they’d work it out. They’d come looking and they’d take Sally away from me. And the baby. Baby needs a mother.’
‘You only did what needed to be done, Pete. You did the right thing. You’re a good man.’
He nodded, but there was a faraway look in his eye, like he wasn’t really listening. She wanted to run. But her legs were shaking and he was so much taller than her – he’d catch her easily.
Slowly, he turned his gaze on her. ‘I thought it would be hard – killing someone. But it’s no different from slaughtering sheep. They struggle too. They all do. Then they go calm, like they know it’s their time. She were like that. She knew.’
Poppy swallowed the bile that burnt the back of her throat.
He was going to kill her. Just like he’d killed Beth.
Would she struggle or would she be calm? Would he leave her floating face down in the lake or would he bury her in some forgotten corner of the farm?
Suddenly the very act of breathing seemed important. The sensation of the breeze on her skin. The sight of light dancing through leaves. She wanted to see it all and feel it all. It was all so beautiful and yet she’d ignored it all until they were special last things.
Mum and Dad would be gutted. Even Jonathan. Gods, she wished she could talk to them, tell them all the things she’d never said. And Michael. She never got to talk to Michael, sort things out. It wasn’t fair! Wasn’t fair that it should end like this.
Her heart and her head were so full of never-going-to-happens that she didn’t notice that Pete was moving towards her, his big weather-worn farmer’s hand reaching for her.
She grabbed the phone out of her pocket. The screen lit up. Someone was on the line. Someone was listening!
‘At the farm!’ she shouted. ‘Pete. It’s Pete!’
Pete grabbed the phone from her hand and stared at the screen.