The Shadow Man

by Helen Fields

  Nothing happened. They pulled again, pushing down harder. Meggy grabbed the metal plate and shoved it back into the gap between door and frame, sliding it up and down. It met with no resistance.

  ‘Why won’t it open?’ Meggy screeched, thumping the door.

  Elspeth took the plate from her fingers and ran it upwards. It hit metal with a delicate clunk. She ran it downwards and the same happened. Took it out and ran it all the way down to the bottom of the door. Repeated the manoeuvre at the very top. Same. Then she tried pushing the plate into the other locks.

  Letting her head fall against the door, eyes closed, hands hanging at her sides, she sighed.

  ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s a five-bolt door. It must be on a central system that doesn’t work when you move one catch individually. We can’t get out.’

  ‘No,’ Meggy growled. ‘I don’t believe you. I think you’re scared and you want to stay in here so you don’t have to fight him. Give me the metal.’

  Elspeth did as Meggy asked, taking a step back and letting her work it out for herself. Rushing her would do no good. She looked into the sitting room at the broken, dangling lamp and knew they were just filling in time. Fergus wasn’t going to appreciate the redecoration. No amount of pushing would get the lamp to stay on the ceiling, and they sure as hell weren’t going out through the front door.

  ‘We have to get out,’ Elspeth whispered. ‘We have to get out of here right now. We can’t survive this.’

  She stared at the hole in the ceiling, at the grime around the edge of the ancient plasterboard, at the crumbling fixture.

  ‘Do you think we could get out through the ceiling and the roof?’ Meggy asked.

  Elspeth considered it. ‘It’s too high. We barely reached the light fitting, so doing any serious damage to the ceiling without ladders and tools will be impossible. Gravity’s going to work against us, and in the roof there’ll be thick joists, brickwork, and tiles outside.’ She crossed her arms and looked around the room. ‘How long do you think he’s lived here? I think it’s a long time. The internal fittings are old.’

  Not trusting her legs – they’d been through too great a disappointment to act reliably – Elspeth crawled to the corner behind the couch and dug her fingers behind the carpet, pulling on strands where it wasn’t completely tacked down. It took an effort, but the carpet was becoming threadbare and hadn’t been renewed in years. The tacks had little body left to hold on to. Her fingernails screamed at her, but she would not relinquish her grip. Her heart was thumping like a drum. Only that wasn’t right. It was Meggy, hitting and kicking the door. The girl had finally lost it. She was bound to sooner or later. Elspeth realised she’d been much too calm. Now the dam was bursting.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, releasing the edge of the carpet. She walked over and pulled the screeching girl away from the door. ‘Hey, honey, we have to try something else, that’s all. It’s not over. But you can’t carry on making that much noise, all right? He’ll hear you.’

  She cradled Meggy’s head against her chest and rocked her for a minute. When the girl looked up, Elspeth smoothed down her hair and kissed her forehead.

  ‘Do you know what a plenum is, Meggy?’

  The girl shook her head.

  ‘Neither do I, not really, but we were having some work done to our house, and they had to leave a space a certain depth between the floors. It has wooden joists, the long beams, and some smaller cross-beams, maybe insulation, something to attach the plasterboard to, that makes up the ceilings we see. But there are some weak points. Some gaps. So when too much water spills from your bath, and the ceiling collapses, it’s because the water has found the gaps and run through. We need to find the weak points, okay? Look at the state of that ceiling.’ She pointed at the dislodged lamp. ‘If we can’t go out through the door, and there are no windows, then we have to find another exit, even if that means making one. I need you to help me, Meggy. Can you do that?’

  The girl nodded and wiped her cheeks. ‘Sure,’ she sniffed. ‘I can help.’

  ‘Okay, just one minute.’ Elspeth disappeared into the kitchen and returned carrying a packet of biscuits and a glass of milk. ‘He left some supplies. You haven’t eaten anything since you got up. That won’t help us. You’ll start feeling ill and panicky. Here.’

  Meggy did as she was told, chewing biscuits that felt like building rubble in her mouth. She couldn’t taste anything but disappointment. She’d been so sure she’d done it. She’d wanted to rescue Elspeth, to be the heroine. And to beat him. That more than anything else.

  Elspeth took the empty glass from Meggy’s hand and set it down, leading Meggy to the spot in the corner behind the sofa.

  ‘Here,’ she said. ‘We just have to get a big enough section of the carpet up, then we’ll see if there are any loose boards we can get to.’

  They began pulling. It was slow work. Fingernails snapped, and their skin rubbed down to raw. Inch by inch it came. Some of the carpet tacks popped out with the carpet, or they stayed in the boards and the carpet gave way around them. Every few minutes they would look up, become still and direct their ears towards the door. The lights hadn’t flickered. No noise had come from the staircase. Not a sound passed beyond the outer walls to disturb them in their prison.

  ‘What’s the time?’ Meggy asked.

  Elspeth checked her watch. ‘Ten.’

  ‘Has he normally come by now?’

  ‘He normally comes in the evening, then again briefly in the morning. Last night was weird, but then he’d just dropped you off, so maybe he was letting you settle in.’ Elspeth stopped pulling the carpet a moment and reached a hand out to take Meggy’s. ‘The police will be looking for you. For me, too. By now, they’ll be combing the city. Someone will have seen something. You can’t just take two people from their lives without anyone noticing anything at all. I kicked my shoe into the bush so the police would know I hadn’t just decided to leave, or had some sort of breakdown. Your parents will be frantic. It’ll be all over the TV, I bet. We just have to hang on in there.’

  She smiled and gave a strong tug on the carpet. A strip of it pulled back, exposing a large section of floorboard. Meggy sneezed and covered her eyes as the dust flew up. Elspeth covered her mouth and nose with the loose end of her shirt.

  ‘There,’ Elspeth said. ‘This is what we were looking for.’

  She began knocking along the board. A hollow sound echoed back.

  ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘We keep pulling the carpet back until we find the right board. Somewhere there’ll be one with a gap big enough to put our fingers in, or the saucepan handle or something. We’ll either knock the board in from this side or pull it up if we can.’

  ‘Can you tell me about your children?’ Meggy asked.

  Elspeth closed her eyes, her brows darting upwards momentarily. She gritted her teeth and puffed out hard.

  ‘Yes, of course. It’s hard to think about what they’re going through right now, that’s all. They don’t even know if I’m alive or—’

  ‘Don’t say it,’ Meggy said. ‘Let’s not say it. We’re not … so we don’t need to think about that. Do they go to a really nice school? I bet they do.’

  ‘They do,’ Elspeth confirmed. ‘They’re very lucky. And I love them more than the world. But, Meggy, you didn’t need the posh school. Look at you. Tougher than me, clever, resourceful. Your school is lucky to have you. I hope they know that.’

  Meggy rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, feigning dust interference.

  ‘We should get on,’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ Elspeth agreed. ‘Yes, we should.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  There was little mistaking the stress on Darpana Chawla’s face as she unlocked the yoga studio ready for the day’s classes to begin. Connie and Baarda had been waiting for her, clutching steaming cups of takeaway coffee and sheltering in an opposite doorway. Shoulders hunched against the rain and wind, Darpana looked older than he
r years and less serene than someone who worked at an establishment called iYoga ever should. They waited for her to get inside and shed her wet coat before entering.

  ‘Sorry, we’re not open for another—’

  Baarda held up his badge. ‘Terribly sorry to be here so early. I’m DI Baarda and this is Dr Woolwine. We have a few more questions for you about Elspeth Dunwoody, if you wouldn’t mind.’

  Darpana turned away and fiddled with the class schedules on the reception desk.

  ‘I gave a statement. I don’t think I can really add anything else, and I have a class soon.’

  ‘We can talk while you set up, if that’s more convenient,’ Baarda suggested. ‘We promise not to take up too much of your time.’

  She shrugged and pointed in the direction of Studio 3. They followed her in.

  ‘I understand you knew Mrs Dunwoody for some time. This must be upsetting for you,’ Baarda began.

  ‘Of course,’ Darpana said, switching on heating and clearing a few stray water bottles from the edge of the room. ‘But, I mean, we weren’t that close. Not as friends. She was in my classes for quite a while.’

  ‘But she followed you here from another studio when you moved employer, is that correct?’

  ‘Sure. That’s not uncommon.’ She unrolled her mat and began stretching.

  ‘Mrs Dunwoody’s husband mentioned that he thought the two of you were rather close. He said you socialised occasionally and went through a period where you would text each other regularly.’ Baarda let the information hang in the air without attaching a question.

  It was clever. When you asked people a question, they had a safe space to limit their answer. Put a statement to them, and the information they chose to respond with could be telling. Connie stayed in the background and let him work.

  ‘I message a lot of people,’ Darpana said. ‘We had coffee sometimes, the odd lunch. I liked her. I hope she’s going to be all right. I saw something on the news about it. Was there a ransom?’

  ‘Actually, no,’ Baarda said. ‘That was a false lead. Mrs Dunwoody is still missing. We’re trying to find out as much as we can about her, who she was friends with, where she went that might have exposed her to the wrong sort of attention. Sometimes it’s the smallest pieces of information that turn out to be the most useful.’

  ‘Are you speaking to everyone again, or just me?’ Darpana asked.

  Baarda glanced over his shoulder and met Connie’s eyes fleetingly.

  ‘As you were the last person known to have spoken to Mrs Dunwoody, we thought we’d begin with you and work backwards from there. Is there someone else you think we should be talking to?’

  ‘No,’ she snapped. ‘It’s just that all I did was teach the class she was in then say goodnight to her. I really do need to get ready now.’

  Baarda ignored the dismissal. ‘So, when did the two of you last meet up socially, rather than just in a class?’

  She let out a small huff of air. ‘Three, perhaps four months ago. We went to the Timberyard on Lady Lawson Street for dinner.’

  ‘And how was that?’ Baarda asked.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ She stopped stretching and stood up.

  ‘How was your evening with Mrs Dunwoody?’ Baarda clarified.

  The muscles under Darpana’s eyes seized momentarily, and she shifted her lower jaw to one side as she prepared to answer.

  ‘It was fine, thank you. It’s a good restaurant.’

  ‘I’ll remember that. So, what did you talk about?’ Baarda gave her a half-smile.

  ‘The same stuff we always talked about.’ She turned her back on them, reaching for her water bottle and unscrewing the cap. ‘Her kids, what she was up to, my classes, who we’d seen, I honestly can’t remember the details. Any reason?’

  ‘So there was nothing troubling her? She hadn’t noticed anyone acting strangely around her. Maybe internet trolls, old friends suddenly popping up unexpectedly on social media, any conflicts in her life.’

  ‘No, nothing.’

  ‘Ms Chawla,’ Baarda said quietly. ‘It seems to me that there’s something worrying you. That’s not an accusation, and you’re not in trouble. But Mrs Dunwoody is. We don’t know if or when we’re going to find her, or what state she’ll be in when we do. What I do know is that when people withhold even the tiniest detail in circumstances like these, it can lead to serious regret later on. Perhaps I’m misreading your answers, but you seem a little upset. Now would be the time to tell us why, if it has anything to do with Mrs Dunwoody at all.’

  Tears arrived in her eyes before she could open her mouth to continue lying.

  The studio door opened and the first of that day’s students entered, complete with breezy greeting.

  ‘Is there somewhere quieter?’ Baarda asked.

  ‘Staff room,’ Darpana said, leading the way.

  It was cramped and smelled of old sweat and body spray. They each took a seat.

  ‘I don’t want to get in trouble,’ Darpana said. ‘He’s not worth it.’

  ‘Who’s not worth it?’ Baarda asked. His tone was warm and kind.

  ‘My boyfriend.’ She seemed to notice Connie for the first time. ‘Am I allowed to ask who you are?’

  ‘I’m a forensic psychologist. My role is to assimilate the evidence and help build a profile of the man who’s abducted your friend Elspeth.’

  ‘My friend?’ she laughed. ‘Do you have many friends who sleep with your partner?’

  Connie gave the disclosure a few seconds of silence, in recognition of its enormity in the context of Darpana’s life.

  ‘Is that what Elspeth did to you?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, it is. Just once, or at least that’s what Nick told me. I found a photo on my boyfriend’s phone.’

  ‘Sorry to have to ask such an indelicate question, but what was the content of the photo?’ Baarda said.

  ‘Elspeth, naked, in our shower. Afterwards, apparently. She obviously didn’t know he’d taken the photo.’

  ‘Yet Elspeth was still attending your classes, and you’re still referring to him as your boyfriend. How was that resolved?’ Connie asked.

  Darpana rubbed her forehead. ‘We’d been going through a hard time. My fault as well as his. I’d been away at a training weekend, and I got too close to another trainer. Combination of alcohol and stress. I admitted to Nick that I’d been unfaithful, and he said he understood. Then he met Elspeth at a social here a couple of months later. They connected on social media, which was fine because I’d known her for years. It was six months ago now. I was visiting family, and they met for dinner. He said none of it was planned, and you know the rest. I could hardly complain. I’d done it to him first.’

  ‘Must have made things difficult with Elspeth, though,’ Connie said.

  ‘I invited her out to dinner. I guess I wanted her to confess it to me. We’d been friends. I suppose I was expecting too much. We went out, like I said, and it was as if none of it had ever happened. She was perfectly normal. Halfway through the evening, Nick phoned. I told him where I was, and he went crazy. Said she’d know he’d taken the photo without her consent, and that he’d end up in a lot of trouble. She’d got young kids and a husband. So I didn’t say anything. I think she realised there was something wrong, but she kept coming to my classes. Maybe she felt that if she left, I’d know something was wrong. I just tried to avoid her and be polite when she spoke to me. Now I don’t know if she’s alive or dead, and I don’t know how I feel about that. She betrayed me. I can’t forgive her, but I never wanted this.’

  ‘Life has a way of making things complicated,’ Connie said. ‘Does anyone else know about this?’

  Darpana shook her head.

  ‘Your boyfriend’s full name? We’ll need to speak with him, I’m afraid,’ Baarda said.

  ‘Nick Bowlzer. We live together. I’d rather you spoke to him away from our flat. Is there any way you could talk to him without telling him I spoke to you?’

  ‘We can’t lie,
but that doesn’t mean we have to reveal our source. You should be aware that it might come out later in legal proceedings. I’m going to have to ask you to make another statement setting out everything you’ve told us today. I’ll have an officer contact you to sort that out.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Am I in trouble for not telling you earlier?’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ Baarda said. ‘I understand why you’d have kept that information to yourself. Could I ask what Nick’s reaction was to the news that Mrs Dunwoody had been kidnapped?’

  ‘He didn’t have anything to do with it,’ Darpana said.

  ‘These are standard questions,’ Baarda said. ‘Your boyfriend isn’t on our radar as a suspect.’

  ‘Sorry, I’m a bit sensitive. It was weird that she suddenly disappeared in the middle of everything, you know, and I suppose I wondered if he’d been in touch with her. He said he hadn’t. That they hadn’t been in contact at all since that night. He didn’t want me talking to the police about it, though. Said he’d end up in the middle of the investigation.’

  ‘Where does Nick work?’ Baarda asked.

  ‘At Edinburgh Castle. He does ticket sales, guided tours, organises events.’

  ‘And he’s there now?’

  She checked her watch and nodded.

  They said their goodbyes, Baarda put in the call for officers to attend and take the written statement, and they walked to the car. It was gale-force winds outside. Connie dragged her fleece over her head and shivered.

  ‘How do people who live here know what to wear? Yesterday there was bright sunshine. Today it feels like I’m on a fishing trawler in the middle of the Atlantic.’

  ‘That’s Scotland for you. It would be boring if the weather was predictable. As I recall, Massachusetts isn’t all sunshine.’

  ‘You’ve been there?’ Connie asked.

  ‘A few times.’ Baarda unlocked the car. ‘Beautiful place. We holidayed in Nantucket once or twice, and I always enjoyed Boston when we were flying in and out. My father had friends there.’

  ‘Nantucket isn’t real. It’s all old money and competitive yacht purchases. Martha’s Vineyard is different. People live there all year. It’s a proper island community. We off to the castle?’