by J. M. Hewitt
‘Uh, Lenon.’ Alice raised her eyebrows, tapped at her watch.
He flashed her a grin, pushed the empty bowl and spoon over to her, dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and climbed down from the stool.
‘See you later,’ he said, and moments afterwards his feet pounded up the stairs.
Carrie sat in Lenon’s chair, wincing slightly as she hoisted herself up.
‘You feeling better?’ asked Alice.
‘Getting there,’ said Carrie, reminded of her fractured cheek bone every time she smiled, which, she realised soberly, wasn’t that often.
Alice held up the coffee percolator, a silent question, and Carrie accepted gratefully. Coffee poured, Alice gestured to the dining table and Carrie followed her over. Alice sat down, beaming, and Carrie raised her eyebrows questioningly.
‘What?’ she asked.
Alice leaned across the table and gripped Carrie’s hand. ‘I got special guardianship of them, I just heard yesterday,’ she said. ‘Hopefully in a few months it will become permanent.’
Carrie sighed, it was impossible not to match Alice’s own smile, no matter how much it hurt her fractured cheek. She squeezed Alice’s fingers.
‘I’m so glad,’ she said. ‘I can’t think of anyone better.’
Memories, clearer these days, and a specific one caught at Carrie. Karen, her old next-door neighbour, her confession to Carrie that she’d asked to foster her. The kindness of strangers, she realised now, outnumbered those awful crimes. They were there, if you looked hard enough, people like Karen, people like Alice, who instead of concentrating on herself and her own recovery from a horrific ordeal, had taken on two more teenage children, and built a home for them. More than a home; a place of safety, of warmth, of love. A sanctuary.
‘You’re amazing,’ said Carrie, and she meant her words.
The woman whom she had met on the island, seemingly self-involved, aloof, panicky, had vanished. A mother was in her place.
‘Ha, not sure about that.’ Alice withdrew her hand, topped up both their coffee cups. ‘I was never maternal, not really. It came so naturally to Harry, caring for someone, looking after their every need.’ She sighed, a deep breath that came from her very core. ‘But this, with the three of them, it just feels… right. It feels like this is the way it should be.’
‘And Harry?’ Carrie asked, now that Alice had mentioned him.
Alice shrugged, and for a moment her eyes dulled. ‘He’s working on himself, he’s in an apartment in Pendleton. Melanie sees him a lot, but I always see him before I leave her with him, make sure he’s not had a setback.’ She raised her eyes to Carrie, defiance evident in them now. ‘But I don’t look after him, I’m not looking after him.’
At that moment Lenon and Melanie came through to the kitchen. Alice blinked Harry away and stood up. Reaching over the counter, she handed them a package each.
‘Sandwiches. Melanie, eat the crusts. Lenon, make sure she gets to school, and I mean in school, not just the gates, okay?’
He nodded dutifully, raised a hand in a farewell wave at Carrie. Melanie wrapped her arms around Alice, kissed her cheek, and hurried to the front door to catch up with Lenon.
‘And be back straight after school,’ Alice called as the front door opened. ‘Ben’s taking us out for an early dinner, so no dawdling.’
The children called a reply, and Carrie smiled as the door closed on their voices.
‘Ben,’ she said, eyebrows raised.
Alice shrugged, began mopping up the table even though there were no crumbs or spills that Carrie could see. ‘He’s good with them, I like his company. It’s good for Lenon to spend time with a man who treats women normally.’ Alice stilled. ‘Did they find him yet?’ she asked, quietly.
There was no need to ask who him was. Gabe Hadley. Or rather, his body.
She shook her head.
‘He won’t come here, he won’t come near us,’ said Alice, though to Carrie her confidence seemed like a front.
Carrie nodded in agreement, but even as she did so, she thought of the multiple locks on the door of this house.
‘He’s not alive,’ she said. ‘That fall, that distance, the rocks and the current. He’s not alive.’
She told herself this every day, though a part of her wished dearly she could have saved him. He was the only person in the world who had information on Hattie, on her resting place. For Alice’s sake, and Willow and Lenon and all the girls before and all the ones that would have been she was grateful he had gone.
And he had gone, it was near on impossible to survive that fall. Gabe was dead.
A shiver ran through her. He had to be dead.
She opened her mouth to speak some more, closed it as soft footsteps sounded above their heads.
‘You’re here for her?’ Alice asked, resuming her cleaning.
‘Yeah, if that’s okay?’ Carrie said, pushing herself up from the chair.
‘Of course, it’s good for her.’ Alice let out a little laugh. ‘I think it’s good for you, too.’
Carrie bobbed her head. ‘Maybe,’ she said.
Just then, Willow walked in to the kitchen, not so much a walk, as a ghostly, silent movement. Carrie swallowed and forced a smile. She wasn’t as far along the healing process as her brother, that would take time, a long time. Carrie rubbed uneasily at her chest. It had taken her, Carrie, twenty long years, and she was only just starting the road to recovery.
‘Morning, Willow. Are you ready?’ said Carrie.
Willow nodded, offered her a tight-lipped smile.
‘You’ll drop her at school after?’ Alice asked. ‘Her first lesson is at ten.’
Carrie nodded. ‘No problem,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you soon, Alice.’
Melanie, halfway down the road with Lenon, looked back towards her house as the door closed. She watched as the two figures walked down the driveway to Carrie’s car. Carrie’s original colours were back, that lovely blue, with the healing strips of silver. Melanie looked at Willow, at her dull colours, more often than not grey, like old dishwater. Sometimes, like now, there would be a flash of pink, a rosy glow. Melanie nodded to herself before turning to catch up with Lenon.
The pink would continue to grow and spread throughout Willow, Melanie was sure. One day, all that grey would be nudged out, and Willow would be happy again.
‘I’ll meet you after, at the gates and we’ll wait for Willow too, okay?’ Lenon asked, anxiety in his voice, eagerness to take care of her and his sister, trying to prove himself now he was man of the house.
Melanie didn’t mind. She nodded, smiled openly at him.
His school was next to hers, and in September she would be in the same building as him. They would walk to school, all three of them together, and Melanie actually looked forward to it, to walking through those gates and down the corridors alongside Lenon and Willow. She thought of Tanisha and Kelly, how they had been the first day she had gone back to school, the twins bidding her goodbye at the school gates. Tanisha’s eyes, round with surprise, Kelly impressed.
They fawned over her now, because she had an honorary brother and sister who were cooler than Tanisha and Kelly would ever be. In return Melanie was polite to them, but she no longer chased after them or their company. She had no need to now.
Willow was silent on the drive back to the city. Carrie didn’t mind, she enjoyed spending time with a person who only talked when she had something to say. Carrie glanced sideways at the young girl, wondering not for the first time exactly what Gabe had done to her.
Nothing physical, Willow had admitted to the specialist officers who had interviewed her upon her return from the island. Not to her; but he had hinted over the years, whispered to Willow what he had done to other girls, so she was in no doubt of his plans for her.
‘But he never did anything.’ Carrie remembered Willow’s voice on the tape, confused, troubled, worried. ‘I waited every night for him to make a move, and he never did.’
> It was all part of his game, the professionals had said. It was enough for him to know the impact his not-so-subtle threats had on his stepdaughter. It was the anticipation, the waiting. The knowledge that he had to be clever and cunning was almost as much of a rush for Gabe as the actual act. Just like the mask he sometimes wore in front of her; it was all part of the game.
Kelly Prout had been questioned further, and away from the watchful gaze of her mother they had come someway to understanding what had really happened in the house of horrors that day.
He had sensed an opportunity, a chance to do whatever he wanted with the freedom he desired. A girl who had suddenly appeared in a home that wasn’t his, providing him with just a minimal risk of exposure. He hadn’t realised Kelly wasn’t alone. Hadn’t counted on the young girl who would gamble with her own safety to save a friend.
And Kelly, Melanie and Willow had come out of their encounter with Gabriel Hadley unscathed. Melanie had managed to escape twice.
Hattie had been the unlucky one.
After twenty minutes, Carrie pulled off the road into a large, looping driveway. She eased the car into her usual parking space and switched off the engine.
‘All right?’ she said.
Willow nodded.
‘Come on then.’
Together they walked up to the main house, had almost reached it when Willow stopped.
‘How long have you been coming here?’
‘Eighteen years,’ replied Carrie.
She watched the girl’s face, making no further comment, offering nothing. Instead she looked at the building that housed her mother. The same building that was now home to Willow’s mum too. She imagined what the girl was thinking, wondering whether she could cope with coming here for the next twenty years. Substance-induced dementia. That was what they’d diagnosed Liz Hadley with. And Gabe had been feeding Liz the meds for so long, in such a dosage, who knew if she would ever get back to the woman she once was?
Carrie felt a flare of fury at the man. Thank God Lenon’s poisoning had been so slight, and so infrequent, he’d recovered fully.
In the reception area they parted, Carrie walking down the corridor towards her mother’s room, Willow heading left.
‘Meet you here in an hour,’ Carrie called.
Willow turned. A real smile aimed at Carrie, and one that changed the young woman’s face altogether. Carrie smiled back, watched Willow as she loped off.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Carrie whispered.
Two hours later, with Willow dutifully dropped off at the school, Carrie checked her phone. A text from Paul.
I’m here, they’re ready to start.
Carrie shivered despite the warm summer day. Putting the car into gear she sped down the A58 towards Rochdale.
He was waiting for her at the entrance, a serious look on his face as he raised a hand in greeting.
‘How’re the kids doing?’ he asked. ‘They all getting on all right?’
She nodded. ‘Really well. Lenon looks great, Willow is more fragile, but she’s got a good home with Alice and Melanie.’ She nodded, thinking back to her brief visit. ‘I really think they’ll be okay.’
‘Good,’ he said. His voice was heavy with relief, and she knew he felt the same sense of having let Willow down as she did. She thought back to their return to the city, once everyone was safe and medically cared for. The only question left on everyone’s lips was why no action had been taken in response to Willow beforehand.
‘You were right, it was Willow calling all along, and it was Willow who reported Gabe to the police two years ago,’ he’d announced grimly.
She was still in the hospital, and she recalled glaring at him, as though it were his fault. ‘What happened when we followed up on Willow’s initial accusation?’
Paul had taken a deep breath. ‘They sent out a couple of uniforms to interview him, but they sent them to a man called Gabriel Hanshaw.’ Paul had slapped his hand on a file. ‘The uniforms were sent to the wrong address, the wrong man.’
‘Shit,’ hissed Carrie, and inexplicable tears sprang to her eyes. She clenched her fists as she sank back against her pillows. ‘Shit!’
‘Take it easy,’ murmured Paul.
Take it easy. Carrie’s nostrils flared. This was exactly the reason she had joined the police force, after what had happened to her, after she and her mother had fallen through the official cracks, she had vowed that it wouldn’t happen to any other child. Not only had it happened to someone else, it had been on Carrie’s watch, in her own police station.
‘It wasn’t too late,’ Paul said now, mildly, as though he knew what she were thinking.
‘This time,’ she retorted. She softened, it wasn’t Paul’s fault, not hers, not really. It was better to see it as a lesson, one to learn from in the future.
‘And you,’ he said as they began to walk, ‘how’re you doing?’
It was on the tip of her tongue to reassure him that she was fine, prepared for whatever might come, that she was okay and she was strong. But he had been a good friend, a good listening ear – when she let him – and she owed him the truth.
‘I’m not sure. Some days I think I’m ready, some days I wonder if it’s better not to know.’ She cast her gaze around Mandale Park as they strode through the entrance. ‘But it’s too late to back out now.’
She thought back to six weeks ago, as she lay in the hospital, the Detective Chief Superintendent by her hospital bed, Carrie lowering her face, not wanting him to see her fractured cheek, the black eye, the cut to her brow. Ashamed that she had failed in her role, that she had willingly released a dangerous man, let him getaway.
There would be no consequence for Carrie, not in the way of verbal or written warnings, though it was clear those higher up had disapproved of her actions. But in any case, Carrie didn’t care about reprimands from work; she would punish herself more than they ever could.
‘He said she was in the park, somewhere in the park, he was going to draw me a map, he said it was too hard to explain.’ The words, Gabe’s words, tumbled from her lips, tripping over themselves in her need to be heard. She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. ‘She never had a funeral, or a resting place, it’s, it’s…’
He had patted her hand. A fatherly gesture. ‘It’s important to you, I understand,’ he replied. ‘But you know he may not have been speaking the truth. People like that, they enjoy playing with people’s minds, it’s part of their sickness.’
She nodded mutely. Knowing what she was asking of him, knowing the funding and the red tape and the bureaucracy that went with this sort of request.
He patted her hand again, nodded at Paul on his way out.
Three weeks later the call came through. Plans had been made to dig up Mandale Park.
Now, it was happening. Police tape cut the park in half, the east section being prepared first. It was a big job, diggers, forensics, dogs. The diggers couldn’t work as though they were simply laying gas pipes. They had to be careful, gentle, and the park was closed to the public for as long as it took.
‘I can’t believe the Chief Super arranged this,’ she said, staring around in awe. ‘I can’t believe this is actually happening.’
Paul gave her shoulder a friendly punch. ‘What you did on the island, risking yourself to save the others, the kids, all that work in tracking them down.’ He stopped, looked around and shook his head. ‘You earned this, you did this.’
The police tape flapped in the slight breeze. Carrie moved a step closer to Paul, nudged him with her arm.
‘We did this,’ she said, softly. ‘I couldn’t have done any of it without you.’
The first machine rumbled into life, the mechanical shovel raised high in the air. As it came down to tear through the first piece of earth Carrie closed her eyes.
The weight, the heavy, crushing burden of failure which she had carried through childhood, adolescence and through all of her career was still there. It would always be there.
But maybe, she thought, just maybe, as time went on, she could try to forgive herself a little.
Were you absolutely gripped by Detective Carrie Flynn’s story in The Quiet Girls? If so you won’t be able to put down The Night Caller – there’s a serial killer stalking the canals, can Carrie solve her toughest case yet? Available now!
The Night Caller
The photo fell from her grasp at the sudden thought of her sister. She stared at it, lying on the floor, remembering little Hattie with her big dark eyes in her stripy pink-and-white shorts, the ones she was wearing on the day she disappeared…
Detective Carrie Flynn has spent twenty years searching for her little sister, who was kidnapped and never found. Carrie was with Hattie on that hot summer day – she saw her sister’s abductor, but she was just a young girl herself, and remembers nothing. She’s never forgiven herself for letting Hattie down.
When the chance came to join the police force, Carrie didn’t hesitate, wanting to ensure that no more little girls grew up alone. Now she is facing her toughest case yet: Jordan Robinson, a quiet and bright young man, has disappeared by the canal on a cold winter’s night. Witnesses heard a splash, but Carrie hasn’t found his body. She knows the first days are vital to find a missing person, and time is running out.
Jordan’s family are distraught, and Carrie is determined to bring their son home. But why does the mother not want to answer questions? Who is the mysterious girl next door? What secrets are this family hiding?
As Carrie searches desperately for Jordan, and digs into his past, she starts to realise his case may not be unique. Young and vulnerable men have been disappearing down by the water, their deaths labelled as suicide or accidents. When Carrie pulls out all of the old files, she is sure: Jordan Robinson has been taken by a serial killer.