by M. A. Hunter
I assume she’s referring to the colonel. ‘I’m sorry if he upset you. I keep forgetting how much you must be grieving right now.’
She suddenly grabs my wrist. ‘You’re going to investigate, aren’t you? Don’t be put off by Havvard’s assurances of a televised reconstruction. He’s been promising to do something to bring the case back to life for years without ever delivering. Diane would have told you as much if he hadn’t been there.’
‘What’s the situation between her and him? It can’t just be his rank surely?’
‘Diane’s husband Owen reports to Havvard directly so he has the power to keep Owen close by or send him off for more dangerous assignments; Diane daren’t go against him, out of fear of losing Owen. She saw the pain and trouble I went through when Geoff died and I don’t blame her for clinging to him for dear life. We need you, Emma. Diane and I don’t necessarily agree on what happened to Sally that night, but it’s clear that something happened. Whether she actually ran away and made it out of the camp, or whether something worse befell her and she’s buried in those woods, it’s been fifteen years and Diane deserves to know the truth.’
I don’t want to disappoint her but it wouldn’t be fair to mislead her either. ‘I’m actually in the middle of a project already,’ I tell her. ‘The Cassie Hilliard manuscript is being heavily scrutinised and may require major rewrites depending on what my publisher’s legal department concludes.’
Her face has dropped, though she doesn’t want me to see how disappointed she is. ‘Hey, no worries. Of course I understand.’
‘I’m not saying I won’t continue to dig around in Sally’s case, but I just want to manage your expectations a bit. If Colonel Havvard can organise the televised reconstruction, it could give the case the attention and spotlight it requires, and who knows who might remember seeing a young girl sneaking out of the base that night?’
She stands, either bored of the conversation or keen to get out before a fresh tear appears in her eyes. ‘Sure, of course, fingers crossed it all works out. I’m gonna go now as I need a cigarette. You all right to find your way home? The bus should be along in a bit anyway.’
‘Yes, of course, and I’m sorry again about Natalie. I hope she has found the peace you were so keen for her to receive. If there’s anything I can do in the meantime, I’ll leave you my number.’
I remove one of the colourful business cards Maddie insisted I carry on me at all times, and hand it to her. Cheryl takes one look at the card before burying it in the pocket of her fleece top, and then she heads back out to the beer garden. Ray the barman appears at my table and collects the glasses before shuffling back to his post at the bar.
Moving across to the window, I see the rain is still bouncing on the slick surface of the road and the ground beneath the bus shelter is soaked through too. There’s no obvious sign of an imminent bus so I call a local taxi firm and order a driver. He promises he’ll be with me in a few minutes.
‘Terrible business all that,’ Ray pipes up, his voice gravellier than when he’d been gushing over Diane in that polka-dot dress.
‘What, sorry?’ I ask.
‘That girl going missing like that. It was in all the local newspapers and we had news vans parked up on the street for days. Did a roaring trade in sausage and egg breakfasts, I can tell you. Still, it’s not right, is it? Young kid like that disappearing into thin air. If you ask me, them soldiers know a lot more than they’re letting on.’
I can’t tell if this is all conjecture or whether Ray knows a lot more about life over the road than he’s letting on. I move across to the bar so I don’t have to shout to him. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘Well, it stands to reason,’ he muses. ‘Folk like that… Some of the shit they must have seen overseas… it’s bound to mess with your mind, isn’t it? What do they call it? Post-traumatic stress and all that. If you ask me, the police should have dragged every one of them soldiers who were there that night in for questioning. At least one of them must have seen or heard something. And it’s not like it’s the first time a girl has gone missing from the base.’
This nugget garners my attention but before I can question him further, my taxi pulls up outside and he moves away to serve a new customer.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Then
Bovington Garrison, Dorset
The rain was falling more heavily now and the patch of ground around where Natalie was cowering under the death-like stare of Louise was becoming increasingly soft and slippery.
‘But they won’t stop until they find out what happened,’ Natalie tried to say over the noise of the heavy splashes. ‘The truth will come out eventually, Lou, and then it will be so much worse for all of us. If we come clean now, maybe… I don’t know, maybe they can reverse what we did.’
‘Ha!’ Louise crowed. ‘It’s not like anyone can turn back time.’
‘You know that’s not what I meant!’ Natalie spat back, though she would give anything for a spell with the true magic to control time. ‘We didn’t know what we were doing – clearly – but I’d bet we could find someone with more experience who could work out what went wrong and fix things.’
‘This isn’t some dumb fucking Disney movie! Nobody can fix what we did and the sooner we all move on the better.’
Why wouldn’t she listen? They hadn’t meant for things to get so out of control. What had happened was an accident and there had to be a way back. Natalie was certain something could be done but she had neither the knowledge nor the experience to fix it. But maybe Jane would know of something or someone who could help; after all, it had been because of what Jane had said that Sally had convened the meeting in the woods to begin with.
Louise leaned closer. ‘We made a pact – you, me and Jane – practically on this very spot. We said we wouldn’t mention a word of what happened and we need to stay true to the pact. Now, swear you won’t tell anyone what we did. Swear it, Nat, or I promise you, you will regret it.’
Natalie closed her eyes and wished that this was all some elaborate dream from which she could wake if only she could realise how crazy it was. Jane had told her all about lucid dreaming and how it was possible – with enough willpower of course – to control what your subconscious projected. Natalie thought about her favourite memory: a holiday to the Seychelles with her parents when she was five; they’d played on the beach and in the warm sea, and eaten chocolate ice cream after dinner every day. Back then, it had been everything she’d wanted from a holiday, and right now she would have given anything to be back there, with the sun on her cheeks and the grainy sand between her fingers.
‘Swear it, Nat,’ Louise’s voice cut through the memory. ‘Swear on your parents’ lives that you won’t tell anyone.’
Natalie kept her eyes closed. What did it matter what she told Louise? She could say she swore on their lives, without actually meaning it; they were only words after all.
‘Do you swear on their lives that you won’t tell anyone what we did, Nat?’
‘Yes,’ she finally screamed, opening her eyes and hoping the shine of tears wasn’t evident to Louise.
‘Shake on it,’ Louise added, thrusting out a hand.
Natalie grabbed the hand and pulled herself to her feet. ‘I told you I’ll keep quiet, but—’
Louise’s finger in her face cut Natalie off mid-sentence. It was no use; Louise wouldn’t listen to any kind of challenge. Jane on the other hand… If Natalie could just get Jane alone for ten minutes, maybe she could convince her to help. Jane’s mum had books all about ancient practices and traditions. Maybe if they read them, they’d find out where it had all gone so wrong. Getting Jane alone would be difficult as Louise’s house was directly across the road, so any kind of social visit would be carefully observed and undoubtedly interrupted. School was also out, and when the three of them returned in the morning, Natalie had no doubt that Louise would keep Jane compliant at her side.
‘I’ll be watching,’ Louise taunt
ed, pointing two fingers at her eyes and then at Natalie. ‘Remember that. I’m always watching.’
With that, Louise pulled the hood up over her head and hurried away; it wouldn’t surprise Natalie if Louise ran straight to Jane’s house and told her all about this little encounter.
There has to be some other way of getting a message to Jane, she thought, as she slowly made her way home. But who could she trust to deliver such a message? It seemed as though her prayers had been answered as she saw Corporal Pete Havvard parking his car at the hut and diving in for cover. He clearly hadn’t seen her moving through the shadows, otherwise he might have waved or asked if she wanted to shelter from the rain inside the hut.
Could Pete be trusted? He’d always been pretty decent to all of them, though she knew it was only his good looks that had first attracted Sally and Natalie to his after-school drama club. As far as Natalie was aware, he’d never encouraged their flirtatious behaviour and hadn’t shown any favouritism, actively encouraging all of his students to search their souls for the right performance.
She didn’t have to tell him about what they’d done; all she needed was for him to slip a message to Jane telling her what Natalie wanted to try. No, a letter would be too dangerous. It was too easy for Pete to read it – or, worse, for Louise to intercept it. No, it had to be simpler than that. She could ask him to ask Jane to meet her in secret at the playground. Maybe then Louise wouldn’t see what was going on. It had to be worth a chance; if there was any way to undo what they’d done and get Sally back, it had to be pursued.
Cutting across the wet and muddy grass, she made a beeline for the hut entrance through which Pete had just entered, but as she opened the door she heard voices inside. Pete was talking to someone. Was it Louise? Had he come here for a secret rendezvous with her?
Natalie opened the door a fraction wider and stepped inside, closing it behind her. The hut was freezing as usual, though the cold atmosphere probably wasn’t helped by her dripping wet trousers and hoodie. At least she would dry off slightly before having to continue the journey home. If she ran flat out she’d be there within five minutes, but she’d reached the point of wetness at which she wasn’t sure it was possible for her to get any wetter. Even as she shuffled closer to the double doors into the large hallway, she could feel the splodge of puddles in her slippers. Her mum would probably go ballistic but it wasn’t something a night on the radiator wouldn’t cure.
As she drew closer to the inner doors, she was relieved to hear that the other voice belonged to a man, and not Louise. That had to be a positive sign; she’d yet to coil Pete around her little finger, which meant he might be willing to pass Natalie’s message to Jane. Natalie crept closer, wincing every time her toes felt the cold splash of rain water and hoping the noise couldn’t be heard from inside the hall. Raising herself onto tiptoes, Natalie could just about see over the bottom edge of the glass in the large double doors. She spotted Pete straightaway, framed by the light emanating through this small pane of glass, but the lights remained off in the hall. Whoever he was talking to was off to the right, hidden by the shadows.
Only, as Natalie strained to hear what they were discussing, and who the mystery figure might be, she realised that it wasn’t a conversation they were holding, rather an argument. Whilst she couldn’t make out what the shadowy figure was saying, Pete’s responses were delivered with a raised and angry voice.
‘You can’t do this! It isn’t fair. I have commitments here.’
The low rumble carried across the air.
‘I’ll put in a complaint with the colonel. You wouldn’t like that, would you?’
There were further rumblings that Natalie still couldn’t quite distinguish from her hidden position outside the door.
‘You can’t send me to Germany! People will ask questions. They’ll want to know why you’ve banished me.’
Natalie gasped silently. They were sending Pete away? But why?
‘Oh, I see now,’ Pete continued. ‘That’s what this is, isn’t it? You can’t stand to look at me so you figure, out of sight, out of mind.’
Natalie’s eyes widened as the large figure of Lieutenant-Colonel Havvard stepped out of the shadows and stood directly in front of his son. ‘You can’t blame me for reacting this way.’
‘But I’m your son. Doesn’t that count for anything?’
‘No son of mine would allow himself to get mixed up in something so… so sordid.’
Natalie frowned, pressing her ear closer to the edge of the window pane and hoping the vibrations carried through the glass.
‘Sordid? There is nothing sordid about it. It’s part of who I am, Dad, but it doesn’t change the fact that I am your son, and I love you.’
‘It’s heresy! That’s what it is! Sneaking about in dark places, cavorting with the devil himself!’
Natalie pushed herself back from the door. Was it true? Was Pete familiar with the myths and legends in the books Jane had told them about? She’d mentioned something about a local coven but Natalie hadn’t realised there would be members on the base. Clearly Pete’s father wasn’t happy to have learned this about his son if his reaction was to have him transferred from the base, but Natalie never would have realised Pete was in a coven. Did Jane know? Is that how her mum had become involved in those practices? Did that mean Pete might be able to help?
Natalie instantly dismissed the idea. When Sally had first suggested their trip to the woods, Jane had told them it was a big mistake to try things they weren’t trained to do. She told them that the Wicca religion was top secret, and to reveal members was a punishable crime. Jane had warned that if her mum found out what they were doing, she would be in serious trouble.
‘Please, Dad?’ Natalie heard Pete scream from the hall, swiftly followed by the sound of heavy footsteps marching towards the door.
Natalie just about managed to dive for cover as the door she’d been cowering behind swung open and the lieutenant-colonel stormed out, causing the main door to the hut to crash into the wall as he threw it open.
Pete hurried after him. ‘Is that it? You’ve washed your hands of me? I’m no longer your son?’
Their voices trailed off into the distance as they disappeared into the night, leaving Natalie in a heap on the floor, her arms drawn around her legs, and her chin pressed into her knees. She’d never felt so isolated, so alone. And the worst part was that she’d brought it all on herself. She never should have lied to the others when they’d asked if she’d had her first period. She hadn’t wanted them to think of her as the baby of the group any longer, so she’d even boasted about having regular periods for ten months, knowing Sally’s had only started six months before. As far as they were concerned, she was as much a woman as they were, but when they’d gathered in the clearing and Jane had started the incantations, guilt had coursed through her veins, and when Sally had then disappeared, she’d known instantly that she was the reason. Natalie shouldn’t have lied to them, and now Sally would be lost for ever because she had.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Now
Burley, Hampshire
By the time I’ve finished recounting Cheryl and Diane’s accounts to Rachel, our mugs are finished and she is staring wide-eyed at me.
‘What do you think happened to her then, this Sally Curtis girl?’
I shrug, because I still haven’t made up my own mind about whose version of events I believe. ‘Natalie’s mum Cheryl is adamant that Sally died on the base that night. Sally’s mum Diane believes that her daughter simply ran away, though she can’t provide any explanation of how Sally left the base unseen by anyone. I suppose, given a mother’s wish to always want the best for her children, it makes sense that she’d choose the ending that brings least pain. But if that is what happened, where has Sally been for the last fifteen years? She was fourteen, with no money, qualifications or family to rely on. How does someone like that survive?’
‘More often than not they don’t.’ Rachel exp
resses what we’re both thinking. ‘If she did manage to get away from the base, where would she go? Are there any homeless shelters nearby? Surely that would have been the first place the police would have checked for her?’
I nod my agreement. ‘Homelessness isn’t just a problem in bigger cities, and there are shelters scattered along the south coast, but none within walking distance of the base that I’m aware of.’
‘What about boyfriends? Did the police ever investigate whether she was being groomed online? Maybe she arranged with someone to collect her from the base?’
‘I honestly don’t know, but I would have assumed that would have been one of their first thoughts. Neither Cheryl nor Diane mentioned it though, so I can only assume it turned out to be a dead end, but worth following up on nonetheless.’
Rachel raises her eyebrows. ‘You’re planning this to be your next investigation then?’
‘No,’ I say at first, but who am I trying to kid? The idea of a girl who disappeared into thin air has too many touchpoints with Anna’s disappearance that I can’t just ignore it. As unlikely an outcome as it is, I can’t ignore the prospect that whoever took Anna twenty years ago also could have taken Sally.
‘So, what then?’ Rachel pushes.
‘I don’t know,’ I reply, collecting the mugs, and carrying them over to the counter by the sink. ‘It’s been fifteen years since she vanished. I’m not going to manage to uncover some sparkly new piece of evidence from that long ago. Besides, both the local police and the military branch pored over every witness account from the time and turned over every stone. I don’t want to give Sally’s parents false hope by agreeing to start looking into what happened.’
Rachel moves across to me and rests a palm on each of my arms. ‘You’re a damned fine investigator, Emma. You have a way of looking at things without bias or prejudice, and seeing them for what they are. You have a great bullshit-detector, which allows you to see when people are hiding the truth, and if your gut is telling you to have a dig around then we both know you won’t be able to rest until you’ve done that.’