by Linda Huber
Alicia found herself clutching Frank’s hand. Oh God, surely he hadn’t taken Jenny. Not Frank.
‘Let’s go upstairs,’ he said. ‘Derek’s car is here so he must have come back for some reason, maybe they’ve found out something about your father.’
Frank pushed the ward door open and they crept along the semi-darkness of the corridor to the nursing station. One of the staff nurses came towards them, sympathy on her face.
‘I expect you want Derek.’
‘I didn’t think he’d be here,’ said Frank.
The nurse made a face. ‘Harry French lost his illicit stash of lager this evening and had a massive tantrum, insisting that Derek had put it away somewhere. I phoned him just in case he had, and you know Derek, back he came with more lager to help settle Harry. He was still doing that when Jim Slater upset Lily Buchanen again, and she started screaming blue murder, so poor Derek ended up in the middle of that one too.’
Life and times in a geriatric hospital, thought Alicia. It would be funny in any other situation.
Frank knocked on the office door and pushed it open. Derek was sitting in front of the computer, tapping at the keyboard with a glum face and Alicia saw that he was filling out an accident report. He jumped to his feet.
‘Alicia! Here, sit down.’
‘We’re just here to talk to someone,’ said Frank, leaning against the desk. ‘I hear you’ve had an interesting evening off.’
‘I have,’ he said, raising his eyebrows and falling back into his chair again. ‘But never mind that, you haven’t come to help us look for Harry’s lager, I’m sure. Is there anything I can do for you?’ He looked from Frank to Alicia.
‘I’m sorry I made such a scene when Bob died,’ said Alicia. ‘He was terrible to me when I was a kid and with Jen missing I just couldn’t... ’
‘You’ve done nothing to apologise for,’ said Derek. ‘Hold on, Alicia, don’t give up hope.’
He was right, there was no proof that Jenny was dead. But how hard it was to keep hoping and hoping, knowing that with every passing minute the likelihood that Jen would be found safe was decreasing. It was an agony that was too painful not to suppress.
Frank spoke. ‘Did Ian have any more thoughts on the cause of Bob’s death?’
Derek looked at Alicia, seemingly considering before he spoke. She nodded at him, and he sighed.
‘No. I’ll tell you something, Frank, I don’t like it. I know it’s impossible, but it looks to me very much like an overdose of his sleeping pills. That’s not possible, though. He couldn’t have hoarded any, he simply didn’t have the wits to do that, and whatever it was, it happened twice today. Ian’s put through an urgent post-mortem and I’m going to be very interested in the results.’
Alicia closed her eyes. What did any of this matter?
Frank moved towards the door. ‘Me too,’ he said. He reached for Alicia’s hand and she stood up. Time to go and, what? There was nothing left to do now. She listened drearily as Frank spoke.
‘Thanks, Derek. We’ll leave you to your report. What happened there?’
Derek shrugged, smiling grimly. ‘Jim Slater had ructions with old Lily, who flounced off into her room and slammed the door so hard a picture fell off the wall resulting in broken glass on the floor, which she promptly cut herself on. Jim, of course, feels himself completely innocent. He could get a churchful of cardinals fighting, that one. Doug Patton called him Puck yesterday afternoon and you know, he’s not far wrong. I think... Alicia? Are you okay?’
She was motionless, the hand that had already been stretching out to grasp the door now frozen in mid-air. Ice cold clarity swept through her and suddenly it was difficult to breathe.
‘Doug Patton called him... Puck... ’
‘Frank.’ She could only mouth his name. It was another of those moments when the world seems to move round and round in slow motion, blurring at the edges, and only the very centre of her vision was left in focus. Shakespeare. The Festival. A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Oberon, Titania. Puck the jester, Puck the malevolent... Oberon. But dear God, that couldn’t be. She was aware of Frank standing rigid beside her, and Derek staring, then rising to his feet, alarm written all over his face.
‘What’s wrong, Alicia? Frank! What is it? You both look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’
It was difficult to talk but Alicia knew they had to tell Derek, then she had to act as fast as she could. Her voice was hoarse. ‘Derek, Jenny has a playmate she meets in the woods, a man, and most probably it’s him who’s taken her. He calls himself Oberon.’
‘We have to call the police,’ said Frank.
Derek was staring, his face white. ‘Ober... oh, shit. Frank, wait. That can’t be, Alicia. It must be a coincidence. There’s been so much about that play around here this year. And Doug is... well, he’s Doug. It’s not possible, it must... ’
His voice broke off.
Alicia felt herself sway. Dear God... she had kissed... and what had he done to her daughter?
Frank pushed her back down on the chair and reached for his phone.
‘I don’t know if it’s right, Derek, but it is possible,’ he said grimly. ‘And I’d rather make a mistake and look like a fool than risk a child’s life by not acting. Get me Doug’s address, would you?’
Alicia was fighting dizziness. The whole room was swirling around her and she bit down painfully on the inside of her cheek, listening as Frank spoke into his phone.
‘This is Doctor Frank Carter. Jenny Bryson may be with a Douglas Patton who lives at... ’ He glanced at the computer screen where Derek had accessed a list of St. Joe’s employees. ‘... 9 Fairweather Court, Lower Banford. Would you please check this, I’m going over there with Jenny’s mother now too.’
He disconnected and Alicia grabbed his hand.
‘Come on!’ she cried wildly, pulling him to the door. They had to go, they had to get to Jenny.
‘Arrange an ambulance!’ Frank shouted at Derek, and then they were running down the ward, down the stairs and outside into the darkness.
The road back had never seemed so long, stretching endlessly in front of them. Alicia forced herself to concentrate on keeping calm, sitting in Frank’s car as he drove. In the distance, she could see lights down by the river where the search parties were still out looking for Jenny. If Doug had her they had undertaken a pointless task.
The Stranger
He placed his plate and glass in the sink and ran the hot water. So mundane, and yet the very fact that he was doing the last, the very last couple of things before the culmination of his plans was so wonderful. Expectation was making him sweat more than ever and the shivery feeling was building inside him, just another hour and then he would be watching little Helen’s eyes glaze like Mummy’s had, like Helen’s had, feeling her delicious little body go limp... knowing that his own darling wasn’t alone in Paradise any more. And then tomorrow, or the next day, it would be big Helen’s turn.
It was time to go. What did he need to take with him? Little Helen herself, of course, and her golden robe. And the cords for her neck, he wasn’t going to be angry this time so he might not be able to send her off to Paradise with his bare hands. And the fluffy blanket, too, in case he wanted to smother her voice if she wailed at the wrong time. That was all.
He went back to the bedroom and gazed down at little Helen. Her eyes were half-closed and her breath was coming in enchanting little pants. She was more awake than she’d been earlier, so the timing was working out well, perfectly, in fact.
Swiftly, he bound the little girl’s hands and feet. Reef knots were best. They wouldn’t come undone even if little Helen started to struggle. He’d learned that at Boy Scouts when he was ten or eleven. He had hated going, but Mummy made him. She had made him do so many things he hadn’t wanted to. Well, these days he could do what he liked, and soon he’d be cuddling up to little Helen in the circle of trees, the Paradise trees, under the midsummer night sky. He would lie with her on the golden
robe and it would be perfect. The thought was terrifying and wonderful all at the same time.
Carefully, he wrapped little Helen in the blanket and robe before lifting her, noticing proudly that he was used to carrying her now. He had the feel of her body. He opened the flat door, and held her against his chest with one arm while he locked it again behind him. Now for the dangerous part, though he already knew that it was unlikely that either of the other flats in the building would be occupied at this time on Saturday night. Down the stairs, quickly, quietly, don’t drop anything, and out to the waiting car, parked right by the front door in preparation. Little Helen could lie on the back seat and he would cover her completely with the golden robe.
He drove the back roads to the far side of the woods. It was better not to drive through the village, you never know, there might be policemen still around. The back road was deserted, and he arrived at the grassy verge where he’d kicked the dog out earlier.
It was dark up there, though. He hadn’t thought of that. Never mind, there was a torch in the boot, if he balanced it on little Helen there would be enough light to see by. Oh, he was so looking forward to this.
Slowly, slowly, carefully up through the trees. Don’t stumble, it would never do if he dropped little Helen or bumped her against a tree. He looked down at the child in his arms. Her eyelids were flickering, and the keening sounds were coming once again from her little throat, how very fortunate that no-one was around to hear her. It was more difficult than he’d anticipated, walking up through the trees. He was a fit man, but he could feel his thigh muscles begin to ache.
Almost there. The circle of trees, there it was, dark and magical. And it was different in the darkness, too, much better, for the little clearing had a moonstruck eeriness in the light of the stars. Here he was, right in the middle of the circle. He had arrived.
Panting, he laid little Helen on the mossy ground and tugged at the golden robe until it was straightened out nicely underneath her. She was quiet now, eyelids half open, yes, she was waking up, how perfect.
He stretched her arms above her head and spread her legs. His star-shaped little Helen. He was going to have such a beautiful time with her now.
Alicia
‘Stop, we should leave the car here,’ said Alicia, as Frank drove past the village shop and hesitated at the crossroads. ‘If he’s in the house with her we don’t want to just drive up and park outside, that would warn him.’
Had Doug taken Jenny? Was that even remotely possible? It might have been pure coincidence, the mention of Puck after the mention of Oberon. But even allowing for that year’s theatre production, ‘Puck’ wasn’t exactly a name anyone would call someone else unless they’d been thinking about the play. Troublemaker, mischief-maker, agitator, stirrer - these were the words that would have sprung to her own mind if she’d been complaining about Jim Slater. So it couldn’t be coincidence. Doug must be Oberon. Dear God, to think she had once been attracted to this man, she had been out for dinner with him, sat opposite him and eaten curry ice cream for Christ’s sake, and now she was quite prepared to believe that he had abducted her daughter. But tonight she would be prepared to believe anything at all, if it meant she would get Jenny back. But if Doug had taken Jenny for any reason at all, then surely he wouldn’t have hurt her. The whole village liked Doug, everyone at St Joe’s too, they couldn’t all have been so completely mistaken about him, could they? But of course they could, just look how mistaken such a lot of people had been about her father.
Frank parked opposite the pub and they jogged up Doug’s road, peering at the house numbers to find the right one. Alicia could feel her heart thumping in her chest. She grabbed Frank’s arm. There it was, number nine, right in the middle. A tall house, and it had been split into three flats, one on each floor. The whole place was in darkness. Was he asleep? Or away somewhere? Was Jenny with him?
Alicia realised in dismay that Doug’s car was nowhere to be seen. Where would he be at this time on a Saturday evening after working all day? The pub was only five hundred yards away and he wouldn’t take the car there anyway. Was he out visiting someone? Or had he taken Jen away to some other place? Not speaking, she and Frank crept up to the house, walking on the narrow strip of grass to prevent their feet crunching on the gravel.
Frank pushed the front door. Rather to Alicia’s surprise it opened, revealing a dim communal staircase. She followed on up six steps and arrived at the front door of the ground floor flat. Carson, the nameplate above the doorbell informed her. Not Doug’s flat. She continued up the stairs, trying to ignore the dryness in her mouth.
‘I’m not sure we should be doing this,’ muttered Frank.
Alicia gripped his hand. ‘The police’ll be here any minute. We won’t put the light on. Quick!’
The moon was sending ghostly shafts of silver through the stairway windows, providing just enough light to see by. A pewter umbrella stand and a large wooden giraffe flanked the doorway on the first floor. Not Doug’s flat again. So the top one was his, just one floor up now. There it was, a large, old-fashioned door with frosted glass panels; yellow, red and green in alternating squares of colour.
Alicia put her ear to the door and listened. Silence. Frank indicated the doorbell, looking at her with raised eyebrows. She rang the doorbell loud and long.
Silence again. But maybe he was in bed, asleep. Again she leaned on the bell, again it shrilled out in the silence. Two seconds, three, four, five. Yet more silence.
‘He’s not here,’ she whispered. Where was he? And where was Jenny?
‘Or he’s not answering,’ said Frank. He tried the door, but it was locked.
Alicia began to shiver. Jenny might be in there. Should they hammer on the door? She raised clenched fists to her mouth, staring at the door. Footsteps and voices on the ground floor spurred her into action. The police had arrived. Alicia turned and ran down to the middle floor, meeting Chief Inspector Wilson on the way up with two policemen.
‘He’s not here,’ she said, standing back to let the Chief Inspector’s bulky frame charge past.
‘And neither should you be,’ he said, battering on the door of Doug’s flat. ‘Police! Open the door!’
‘He’s not here,’ said Alicia again.
The Inspector looked at her grimly. ‘We’ll get in, but I want you both to stay put here until we’re certain it’s safe,’ he said, nodding to one of his colleagues, who stepped forward with a metal device which he slammed against the lock. The wooden frame cracked and the door swung open. Alicia watched as Chief Inspector Wilson disappeared inside the flat, his men following on. Her heart was really thumping now, it was as if someone was wielding a hammer right inside her chest, the blows reverberating round her ribcage, and there was a rushing noise in her ears too. She felt horribly dizzy.
‘No-one,’ said the Chief Inspector from the top end of the hallway. ‘Come in, Mrs Bryson, and see if you notice anything that would tell us if Jenny’s been here.’
The hallway was painted a rather dingy beige colour; old, flaky beige paint, and Alicia felt a quick jolt of surprise. This didn’t seem at all like the kind of place immaculate Doug would have chosen to live. It was a rather sinister indication of how little they really knew him. The living room was dingy too, with heavy dark red velvet curtains drawn across the window, shutting the night out. One of the policemen clicked the overhead light on and Alicia and Frank moved into the room. Two threadbare armchairs stood left and right of the disused fireplace and a sofa that didn’t match them was up against the opposite wall. A door at the far end probably led into the kitchen.
‘Alicia.’
Frank was right beside her, holding her close to him with one hand while the other pointed. She turned her head, and there in the corner, beside the sofa, she saw a pathetic little pile of clothes. Jenny’s clothes. All of them. Blue shorts, yellow t-shirt, socks, knickers. Minnie Mouse watch. New summer sandals. Every single thing Jenny had been wearing that morning was lying there.
‘Boss!’ One of the policemen was in the hallway, looking into another room. Alicia wrenched herself away from Frank and ran to the bathroom doorway. She found herself staring at an ancient bathtub, partially filled with clouded, oily water.
‘Okay, I want everyone out of here right now, please,’ ordered the Chief Inspector. ‘This flat is a crime scene.’
He pushed Alicia back out to the stairwell, where she clutched at Frank with both hands. The buzzing in her ears was so loud she could barely hear Chief Inspector Wilson on his radio, organising backup, more search parties, road blocks. Frank held her, but she could feel his heart beating wildly too. Doug Patton had Jenny. He had undressed her. And what else? She couldn’t bear to think. It was the worst, the absolute worst thing she had imagined since Jenny went missing. A pervert. A paedophile. Doug was Oberon. This was a man she had trusted, and now such betrayal. The pain was excruciating, for a moment she literally couldn’t breathe.
The Chief Inspector joined them on the landing. ‘There’s no sign of a struggle,’ he said. ‘Try not to think the worst before we know what went on here. We’ll start an immediate search through the whole village, barns, outhouses, the lot. Mrs Bryson, if he’s here we’ll find him.’
‘It might be too late,’ she whispered, knowing there was nothing anyone could say to this. It might be too late. Jenny, beautiful Jenny, what had Doug done to her? And why? Why had he picked out Jenny, Jenny who loved life and animals and playing in the woods, why had he...
‘The woods!’ she said suddenly. ‘The special place in the woods, where they met and played... ’
The Chief Inspector stared at her for a split second before marching to the stairs. ‘Come on, we’re going.’ He spoke into his radio as he went, reporting the new details. ‘The Super’s meeting us there.’
They ran down, Frank almost yanking Alicia off her feet and the Chief Inspector thundering ahead at a speed that belied his size. Two police cars were parked in the front drive, and Frank pushed Alicia into the back seat of the first one and got in after her.