by Ryan Casey
I felt a streak of guilt run down my spine. If I hadn’t run off with my dad that day, none of this would have happened. We could have solved it earlier. Time was running out. Donald was already gloating and thinking people weren’t suspecting him, considering himself off the hook. For once, I had to admit to myself that it was my own fault. Adam was in the right, and he knew it. But nothing I could say could change anything now.
‘What are we supposed to do, Adam?’
Adam didn’t answer. He stared back at me instead, almost taunting me to come up with something myself. It was the least I could do for the runner I’d staged, leaving him here all on his own.
I contemplated my options for a moment and hunted for inspiration in the mash of jelly that was my brain. My head ached. ‘Do Gran and Granddad know you’re telling me about this?’ I asked.
‘Yeah, I think they have an idea. Gran wasn’t too keen, but they knew you’d find out eventually. And y’know, they know you give a damn about her. So it’s like, only fair really. That you do know.’
Give a damn about her. I thought about how her hair tickled my face as we hugged. How her little hands shook as we touched each other’s fingers for the first time. I clutched my hands together, and told Adam the only rational thing that I could. ‘We go to the police.’
Adam blinked. ‘We can’t.’ He was completely still.
‘What do you mean, ‘we can’t?’ We have to, Adam, don’t you see? They’re going to be crawling the woods soon. We have to tell them about the body. About the ring and about everything before they find it. We have to point them in the right direction. Help them out.’
Adam’s kept his eyes fixed on mine. ‘This is our mystery, Liam. Not the police’s. Ours.’
I felt my throat closing up and hardening. For a second, I wanted to pound in his face, but I clutched my fist and resisted. ‘What the fucking hell do you mean it’s ‘ours’? Adam, you little idiot—a girl has gone missing. Her dad’s mental. And we sit around and do nothing? We’ve seen the body of another girl—god knows how old or young she was. How can you be so stupid? We saw the bruises on Emily. We know stuff. Stuff that could help. When will you ram it into your stupid little head that we aren’t good enough to solve this ourselves? We aren’t police officers. We’re nobodies. Just two little idiots who stumbled across something we shouldn’t have and let it swallow us up and ruin our lives. We’re obsessed. We need to take a step back. If you don’t, I will.’
Adam didn’t even move a muscle. He merely stared at me. His look was adult-like, that of a concerned father. ‘I can’t let you do that, Liam,’ he said.
My body grew hotter inside. I felt crushed and small again, miniscule. ‘What do you mean, you can’t let me do that?’
Adam reached into his pocket, and pulled out a piece of crumpled paper. ‘I know you’re probably sick of reading, but you need to take a look at this.’ He handed it to me.
I unfolded it. It was a newspaper article. Something about banking. Another thing about somebody seeing a UFO.
My heart froze when I saw her.
I looked up at Adam. ‘Wait… is that—is that her?’
Adam nodded slowly.
I switched my gaze back towards the paper. The eyes. Her skin looked so soft compared to how she’d been when we’d seen her. ‘Search Goes On For Missing Girl.’ It was the girl off the news, all those nights ago. Beth Swanson. How had we overlooked something this big?
Adam pulled the paper out of my hand and folded his arms. My jaw dangled somewhere below me. I couldn’t think of what to say. My mind raced and the back of my neck ached from the crash.
‘Is it… are you sure?’ My hands trembled. I squinted at the picture. She looked the same. Or at least, she looked similar.
Adam shrugged. ‘Something still doesn’t really fit. The P.S. on the ring. What does that mean?’
I tried to picture the dead girl’s face on the girl in the paper, but it was different when you were looking at someone alive and smiling. ‘Still, it does seem too big to be a coincidence.’
Adam nodded in approval. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’
‘What are we going to do?’ I asked.
Adam took a deep breath and cleared his throat. ‘We’re going to go out into the woods. Tonight. We’re going to break into Donald’s shed, and we’re going to solve this thing once and for all, cuz.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The moonlight shone down on the caravan site. The sky hadn’t been this clear since the two of us had arrived. It seemed an eternity ago that Adam and I were stargazing in the middle of the woods with Donald, moths dancing in the upwards beam of the torchlight.
Adam and I walked side by side, both of us eager not to fall too far behind as to display weakness or go too far ahead as to suggest leadership. We had to stay in this together. Sneaking out of the caravan was easy enough. We had a quick sleep after our conversation, which Gran and Granddad put down to our fatigue from the events of recent days, and woke up around 1am, courtesy of a novelty vibrating wrist-watch Adam bought at a museum gift shop. I’d laughed at Adam when he’d bought it, but I guess it had come in handy after all.
Sneaking past Carla was probably the hardest part in our heads, but she lay still in her bed. Only her eyes followed us, like auto-aim on the shooting games for our Nintendo. Gran snored in the distance somewhere as I curved my hands around the cold metal of the handle, inching it downwards, begging it not to creak. We held our breath as we shot out of the door into the cold air outside, clicking the door gently back into place. We couldn’t risk a gust of wind making its way into the house and disturbing Gran and Granddad. The final hurdle was the egg-shell sounds of the stones as we crossed the driveway, which we walked across like a tightrope. After that, we were free.
The gates to the wasteground creaked as we climbed over them, being careful not to misplace our feet on the iron bars. It was pitch black, and we didn’t want to take a torch in fear of attracting some unnecessary attention, especially with what had happened to Emily. There could be police around, or Donald could be out there waiting for us. It could be a trap.
A walk through the wasteground was usually second nature. We’d passed through so many times that it was just natural. Yet here, in the pitch black, movement caught our eyes and sounds taunted our ears. Adam and I held hands, our fingers twitching as we edged our way towards the grey steps on the other side of the wasteground.
When our feet finally hit the bottom of the steps, we paused for a moment. Adam tugged his hand away from mine and stuffed it back into his pocket as if he’d never held it. The two of us hadn’t spoken a word on our journey so far. We were completely focused on what we had to do, and terrified of the consequences we might face if we were caught—or worse.
As we reached the summit of the steps, I turned to the left and Adam tugged at my arm. He shook his head. ‘We can’t go that way.’
‘Why not?’
Adam exhaled and swung his head to the side, scrunching his eyebrows. His whispers were increasing in volume and pitch. ‘Because think about it—Emily’s place is that way. If we go past her place and her dad is about we’re in big trouble.’
‘But… the only other way is…’ I looked up towards the road ahead of us, which ran parallel with Emily’s road. Both led to the mouth of the woods. The cabin was a few hundred feet in, ready to greet us.
Donald’s caravan was on the upper road.
‘I know, but…’ Adam quietened his voice, as he shouted in the silence of the night. ‘We go past Donald’s and we can see whether his lights are on, whether he’s up. If he is, then we go in our old den or something. I dunno.’
‘Yeah, but what if he comes in and finds us? He’ll get suspicious. He’ll know something’s up.’
Adam’s face was flat. He took a deep breath. ‘We’ve gotta try, Liam. It’s the only way.’
I rolled my eyes, out of view in the dark. ‘Okay, whatever. Now’s not the time for arguing. L
et’s just get it done with.’
We approached Donald’s caravan on our tiptoes. My palms dripped with sweat. I didn’t want to look at the caravan in case I saw something. I’d rather not know. I was ready to run.
A jolt of fear lanced through my body as a light flickered on from the caravan. I went rigid. He was awake, and he’d caught us. This was it. I clamped my eyelids together.
The next thing I felt was a nudge.
I peeked through my eyes to see Adam grabbing my shirt. ‘It’s automatic,’ he mouthed, behind clenched teeth.
I felt tingly and light headed. I tried to calm myself again and pretended that I knew that it was an automatic light all along. Adam shook his head and carried on walking. I followed behind him, catching my breath.
I poked my head over the hedge as we walked past where Emily’s van was on the other road. There was a dim light glowing from somewhere inside—probably the living room or their bedroom. Good job we took the top route after all.
When we reached the mouth of the woods, my head began to pound. I remembered what the doctor said and what Gran had said about resting, but it didn’t matter right now. It wasn’t important. Emily was in danger and something was in that cabin—something that could help us solve things once and for all. It had to be. Maybe she’d been tied up in there or… No. I didn’t want to think about the negatives. Only the positives.
Adam turned to me as we stumbled into the entrance of the woods. An animal called out somewhere in the trees. The trees were thick, like giants. It was so dark that the only thing visible was the brief outline of the cabin a few hundred metres into the woods. I was glad we wouldn’t have to walk any further than this. I grabbed Adam’s arm and we sped up, the sound of twigs cracking under our feet. As we turned to the right to make our way to the entrance of the shed, something rustled next to us. In my mind’s eye I pictured Donald’s anger and his bloodshot gaze as he suffocated the dead girl in soil and ants. I felt eyes staring back at me, waiting, before a small animal sprinted away from me. Just a deer. Only a deer. I patted Adam on his back as my chest loosened.
‘It’s not far up here,’ Adam whispered, his eyes scanning the woods. My arms felt cold and stiff. I didn’t want to look around, so I kept my focus on Adam. I didn’t want to see anything else. Not an animal, not anything.
We reached the door of the cabin and gave it a push. Nothing.
‘It’s no use,’ I whispered to Adam, shrugging.
Adam tapped his nose and reached into a pocket before pulling out one of Granddad’s hammers.
‘How did you—’ I was interrupted by the clang of a hammer against the rusty padlock. I crouched down and covered my ears. I didn’t want to hear the racket we were making. I didn’t want to know it was happening.
A few seconds later, I heard an almighty tumble and felt the warmth of a light behind me. I spun round, kicking up twigs, and saw that Adam had opened the shed door—in doing this, he had triggered a light. Adam lay on his hands and knees, half in and out of the shed.
My stomach sank as I realised a light was visible from the woods for all to see.
‘Quick, Adam,’ I shouted. ‘Get inside.’
Adam sat on his knees and stared at the hammer, stunned by his own strength. I jumped up and dragged him inside the shed before slamming the door shut. I collapsed back against the door, sweat dripping down my forehead.
We’d been loud and clumsy, but the main thing was that we were inside.
I looked around: the carpet was beige and stained with mould, the woods trying to swallow the cabin up and make it green. The walls were lined with books about nature and wildlife, the dust decorating their edges in the glow of the dim light. In the corner, there was a small, dark wooden desk and a chair with an old, green cushion on it, like one of those you’d find at an uncle and auntie’s that hadn’t redecorated for years.
But no sign of Emily. A few documents were scattered across the table. Pictures nestled in rusting frames. How old was this stuff?
Adam looked round in awe, as if he were in a museum of things he’d always wanted to see. His mouth was wide as he looked up at every spot in the cabin. Our eyes danced around the interior, trying to focus and make sense of something that could give us a clue—maybe a cellar door, leading down to some secret underground lair. Maybe keys to some secret hiding place where Donald had carried out all his actions in the past and where all those gruesome truths were locked away. But there was nothing of immediate note. Just books, photos, and dust.
I walked up to the desk, gently pushing Adam out of the way as his bewildered eyes tried to make sense of the scene around him. It didn’t matter how insignificant everything might have been. Adam and I had always strived to see what hid behind this thick, wooden door—the one place that Donald seemed eager for us not to see. It was almost inevitable that the truth turned out to be something of a disappointment.
But we had achieved something. We had broken into somewhere we weren’t supposed to be and put everything on the line for the good of our friend. My girlfriend. The light had pierced through the night sky and could have caught anyone’s attention, so we needed to make however long we had count. Whether the police caught us or whether Donald caught us, I had to know what was going on. We both had to know.
I stumbled over to the desk, pulling the cord on an old lamp. It was like something you’d find in an antique shop. There were no windows in the cabin. The only way for light to escape was that thick door, and we were behind it now, enclosed. The dust glistened in the beam of the lamp as I switched it on, awakening it from a deep sleep. I glanced around the desk eager to find something, some crucial bit of information. But there were papers piled on top of papers. Newspaper reports of old sports matches. Holiday brochures of the caravan site.
And a photo album.
I reached to pick it up. It didn’t look as dusty as the rest of the things in the cabin. I noticed a pink post-it note folded at the top to form a bookmark. As I began to turn the cover back, the floorboards creaked behind me. I swerved round and saw that Adam had his ears at the door, his eyes scanning the air in concentration.
‘There’s someone outside,’ he whispered.
I stopped with my hand still perched on top of the photo album. If we had to run, I was taking this with me. It could be nothing, but then again, it could be everything. The key to solving all of our mysteries. And I wasn’t prepared to let that go. I squinted and closed my eyes, trying to hear whatever it was that Adam heard. There was nothing but eerie silence, my racing pulse, and the occasional hooting of the night owl, watching down on us from above.
And footsteps.
Somewhere in the distance, there was absolutely no doubt about it. The crunching of twigs beneath somebody’s feet. I felt my stomach rise into my chest as the vibrations of my heart echoed in my head. Nobody came out walking at this time of night.
And then the noise stopped. Just as suddenly as it started, the noise disappeared completely. I squinted and looked at Adam to check if he could still hear it, but he shook his head, still peering in case it started again.
‘Let’s just carry on searching,’ I said, eager to make some sort of progress. I scratched the back of my head as Adam huffed and puffed around. We had to get what we could and get out of here. If the police found us, we could get framed for something we hadn’t done. If Donald or Emily’s dad found us… I dreaded to think. Adam nodded and looked at the photo album I had in my hand for the first time. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
I wiped the dust off the green linen cover. The shade had faded with wear and tear. It must be more ancient than Gran. ‘A photo album, I think.’
I opened the cover to the front pages, which stuck together, yellowing like coffee-stained old books. There was writing in the top corner of one of the pages—or at least there once had been, but it had faded away. ‘Time’s way of hiding secrets,’ Granddad once told me. I turned the page again, this time to the pink bookmark. Something heavy slipped out
onto the floor. Adam reached down to pick it up, but he hadn’t seen what I had. Her eyes, staring back at me, in her white wedding dress. His arm around her shoulder, looking younger and sharper but with that same noticeable smile. The same narrow glasses mounted underneath his sweeping fringe.
It was Donald, handing the dead girl over to her new groom. Except the girl wasn’t the girl we’d seen in the paper—the missing girl. It was his daughter, and her recognisable, glistening ring.
P.S.
I tried to comprehend what was in front of me and felt a sudden coldness. Had Donald… had he killed his daughter? Where did Emily figure in all of this? Had he lost it and gone on a rampage? All the pieces of an immense puzzle slotted together at that moment, but the picture still didn’t make complete sense. We needed to go to the police. We had our evidence.
I turned to Adam, who stared at the piece of rock in front of him, glancing between it and the photo. ‘Adam, do you understand now? Fucking hell—this is it.’
He nodded, his eyes widening at the depth of discovery we had made. The way he stood there, unmoving, reassured me that he had figured it out too, and didn’t need any telling. Why was he so preoccupied with the piece of stone in front of him?
‘Adam, what is it?’ I asked. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
Adam flipped it over in his hand and rubbed its smooth surface. There were little scratches on it and chips where it looked like it had been hit. A marking on the edge. It didn’t make sense at first, but as Adam spoke, it dawned on me how important and gut wrenching a discovery this actually could be. ‘I think I know where he’s taken Emily, cuz.’
I stared at the rock in front of me, trying to get a good glimpse it in the dim, flickering light. The stone was recognisable—it was from the old derelict house up the hill, with its crumbling grey brick. What would Donald be doing up there? There could only be one answer.