The Last Lie

by Alex Lake

  ‘That didn’t happen,’ he said. ‘It’s all going to be OK.’ He looked at DI Wynne. ‘We have to catch this guy. We have to.’

  He meant it, but not for the reasons Wynne and Lawless and Claire would think. He didn’t care about justice for Claire or keeping other women safe.

  He wanted him caught because he had no idea what was going on, and he didn’t like it.

  Under the table, his hands were shaking. He clenched them tight. He didn’t want anyone to see and think he was afraid.

  Even if they did, they’d be wrong. He wasn’t afraid. It was worse than that.

  Alfie was close to being in the grip of a full-on panic.

  iii

  DI Wynne made a note on her pad of paper. ‘How long were you in the boot of the car?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Claire replied. ‘It felt like a long time. Hours. He came a few times and gave me water.’

  ‘Did he say anything?’

  ‘He never spoke. I heard him once, talking on the phone—’

  ‘How did you know he was on the phone?’ DS Lawless said.

  ‘Because there was no one replying. There were long pauses while he listened.’

  ‘What was he saying?’ Lawless asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I couldn’t make out the words. He was laughing, though, and I remember feeling it was odd that he was relaxed and happy and I was only a few feet away, tied up and in pain from the cramp in my back and neck and legs.’

  She took a deep breath.

  ‘I was in and out of consciousness, and then I was woken by the engine starting up. The car started moving – I was convinced he was taking me somewhere to kill me – and we drove for a while.’

  ‘How long, do you think?’ Wynne said.

  ‘An hour, maybe. It felt like we were going quickly at one point, but that could have been because I was in the boot. The last few minutes were very bumpy, like we were on a dirt road of some sort.’ Claire glanced at Alfie. She was pale, her eyes dark. Her face was thinner, her cheekbones more prominent.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he said.

  ‘Not exactly,’ she replied. ‘But there’s not much more to tell. We stopped, and he opened the boot. It was early morning and we were surrounded by trees. He took me out of the boot and untied my ankles. There was a van parked a few yards away, hidden in the trees.’

  ‘What colour?’ Wynne said. ‘Make? Age?’

  ‘Quite old. White. A Ford, I think.’

  ‘And the car?’

  ‘It was dark blue. I don’t know the make, but nondescript.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Daniels,’ Wynne said. ‘Please, carry on.’

  Claire nodded. ‘He undressed me. First my jeans and underwear, and then the rest. He had to untie my hands to get my top off. I don’t know why, but at the time all I could think was that he was going to rape me. Or worse. That’s why he left me naked.’

  ‘Worse?’ DS Lawless said. ‘What were you thinking?’

  Claire looked down at her hands. ‘I was thinking he was going to put me in the van and offer me to – to other men. Drive me to quiet places and let them’ – she hesitated, the words almost inaudible – ‘let them use me. I think that was his plan.’

  ‘Claire,’ Alfie said, ‘we don’t have to carry on.’

  ‘It’s fine. Because that thought was what saved me. It made me realize I had to get out of there. I shoved him as hard as I could. He banged his head on the boot, and I managed to push him in, so his legs were dangling out. Then I slammed it down, three or four times. I heard a noise that sounded like something breaking, and then I ran to the trees. And eventually, I came to a road.’

  ‘He didn’t follow you?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I think he was hurt.’

  DI Wynne gave DS Lawless a nod. ‘Hospitals,’ she said. ‘Anyone with a leg injury consistent with Mrs Daniels’s account.’

  ‘On it,’ Lawless said.

  Wynne looked at Claire. She smiled. ‘Thank you. I’m sure there will be more questions. No doubt I’ll be in touch, but you’ve given us a lot to go on. For now, that’s it.’

  They got a ride home in a police car. As they pulled out of the police station she unbuckled her seat belt and leaned against him.

  The PC who was driving glanced at them in the rear-view mirror. He was about to say something, but he raised a hand.

  ‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘I’ll drive carefully.’

  Alfie smiled and gave him a thumbs up. When he looked back at Claire she was asleep.

  He woke her when they got home and helped her out of the car and to the front door.

  ‘Everything OK?’ the PC said.

  ‘Yes,’ Alfie replied. ‘And thank you for your help.’

  ‘Not a problem. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.’

  Alfie closed the door. Claire walked into the living room and sat on one end of the sofa, her hands around her knees. He sat next to her and put his arms around her.

  ‘Thank God,’ he said. ‘Thank God you’re back.’

  She nodded. ‘Could you get me a glass of water?’

  ‘Of course. Anything. Do you want tea? Or coffee? Something to eat?’

  ‘Just water.’

  In the kitchen he poured two glasses. He brought them to the living room and handed one to Claire. He set his down on the coffee table. He watched the ripples on the surface fade, and tried to understand what was going on.

  What he knew was that Claire had been abducted, and managed to escape. Which confirmed that someone had taken Bryant’s identity so he could meet and then abduct women, and then maybe do what Claire had suggested: farm them out as sex slaves.

  It was a clever idea; those websites were unregulated, and full of people using false names. They would be nearly untraceable. They happened, in this case, to have chosen Henry Bryant, who was implicated in Pippa’s disappearance.

  That would send the cops down the wrong path. They would be focused on Henry Bryant, when they should be looking for other women who had gone missing after meeting men on dating websites, men who could be called anything.

  Not that Alfie could tell them that.

  Either way, he was starting to feel a little better about this. He thought he knew what had happened, now. It was random, and although it didn’t explain the text message he’d received – the one without the name of the sender, the one which said Miss me? Miss you too. See you soon? – Alfie thought he had figured out what had happened there, as well. It was from Pippa – it was exactly the kind of thing she would write – but not from after he killed her. She’d sent it before, and it had got stuck somewhere in cyberspace. It was only when he went to get his phone and switched it on that it came through.

  The best thing about this was that whoever had abducted Claire would steer well clear of her from now on, and also of using Henry Bryant again.

  And that meant, for Alfie and Claire at least – if not for his future victims – this was over.

  But it left Alfie just as trapped as before.

  iv

  Claire sipped her water, and then closed her eyes.

  ‘I’m exhausted,’ she said. ‘I’m going to have a shower and a sleep. Will you come and lie with me?’

  ‘Of course,’ Alfie said. ‘I’d like nothing more.’

  He was woken by the doorbell. For a moment he had a strong sense of déjà vu – as he opened his eyes he imagined DI Wynne and DS Lawless on the front step – but then he remembered.

  Claire was home.

  He got out of bed quietly and walked to the front door. Mick was standing there with a large pizza box. He thrust it at Alfie and marched inside.

  ‘Where is she?’ he said.

  ‘Sleeping.’ Alfie nodded upstairs. ‘She’s very tired.’

  ‘Leave her,’ Mick said, as though Alfie would have done anything else. He took out his phone. ‘You seen this?’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Those bastards in the press have got hold of
it. They’re already running it,’ Mick said.

  ‘Oh. What are they saying?’

  ‘Read it.’

  Alfie took Mick’s phone and read the story.

  CLAIRE DANIELS FOUND

  Claire Daniels, the woman who went missing earlier in the week, has been found. Mrs Daniels was seen wandering along a quiet road in the New Forest by Barbara Linton, 61. Ms Linton informed the police.

  Mrs Daniels had disappeared after arranging an extra-marital liaison on a website with a man using the name of Henry Bryant. She was the second woman to vanish after arranging to meet Mr Bryant in the last two weeks. Ms Pippa Davies-Hunt has not been seen since a week ago on Thursday.

  Detective Inspector Jane Wynne said the police had gained valuable information from Mrs Daniels. ‘We have learned a lot about Henry Bryant and are following a number of leads. We remain concerned for Ms Davies-Hunt and hope to find her soon.’

  Mrs Daniels is home with her husband, Alfie, and did not want to comment.

  Alfie handed the phone back to Mick.

  ‘It’s not too bad,’ he said.

  ‘No, not yet.’ Mick put the phone in his pocket. ‘You know, I admire you, Alfie. For not throwing her out.’

  ‘I thought about it. But I love her. And we’ll work it out.’

  ‘I’m grateful you feel that way. She’s going to need you after what she went through.’

  ‘I know. And I’ll be here for her.’

  ‘So what happens next?’ Mick said.

  ‘I’ll take some time off work. Stay home with her. Start the healing process. I think she’d benefit from seeing someone.’

  Mick nodded. ‘Say the word. Whoever you want. I’ll pay for it.’

  Yes, you will, Alfie thought, yes, you fucking will.

  ‘Thanks, Mick,’ he said, with a smile. ‘I appreciate it. I appreciate everything you do.’

  Monday

  i

  When Alfie woke up, Claire was not there. He slid his hand to her side of the bed. The sheets were cold. He listened for the sound of movement, or the television or radio. There was only silence.

  He lurched upright. There should be some sign of her – some noise, or the smell of coffee – if she was up and in the house?

  He pulled on a T-shirt, then went downstairs.

  ‘Claire!’ he shouted. ‘Claire!’

  She was sitting on the sofa, cradling a mug of coffee, staring into nothingness.

  ‘My God,’ he said. ‘I thought – I thought something had happened.’

  She turned to look at him, her eyes focusing slowly.

  ‘No. I couldn’t sleep. That’s all.’

  ‘You should have woken me.’

  She shook her head. ‘It’s OK. I wanted to be alone. To think.’

  ‘I guess there’s a lot to think about.’

  ‘You know the thing I keep thinking?’ Claire said. ‘How lucky I am. Sounds odd, but it’s the main thought in my head. I’m lucky.’

  ‘Maybe you are, in a way. At least you escaped.’

  ‘That’s part of it, but not the main reason.’ She beckoned him to join her on the sofa and took his hands in hers. ‘The main reason is that it brought me back to you. I don’t know what I was thinking when I went on that website, or when I had the other affair.’

  Alfie frowned, and pulled his hands back.

  ‘We don’t have to talk about this now,’ Claire said. ‘I understand it must be hard for you to hear. But we’ll have to, at some point.’

  Alfie shook his head. ‘It’s OK. We can talk about it now.’

  ‘I got lost, Alfie, in trying to have kids and not being able to. I don’t know how, and I’m so, so sorry I did. It was a huge mistake. The guy at work, Bryant. But we can start again. Adoption, sperm donor. Maybe no kids at all. I don’t care. As long as we have each other, I’ll be fine. That’s what I learned when I was being held captive, when I was sure I was going to end up dead or chained to a bed for men to use. I understood that what we have is special, and it’s enough to make my life fulfilling and happy. You’re all I need, Alfie. Now and forever.’

  Alfie held her gaze, nodding slowly. Even now, he couldn’t escape her. Maybe – thank God – he could avoid children, but he was stuck with Claire. He could hardly go through with his original plan to get rid of her, and it would be a long time before he could try another.

  In the meantime, he would be trapped, and she’d be more dependent on him than ever before.

  He could divorce her, of course. He had the perfect excuse. But he knew that Mick – whatever he said about admiring Alfie – would make his life a misery. The admiration and gratitude would wear off in the time it took Claire to say Alfie and I are breaking up, don’t blame him, it’s my fault and Mick would make sure he got nothing. He’d take away the job he’d arranged, and Alfie would be left with no money and no skills. And he didn’t want that. He liked his life, liked the house and car and holidays.

  He just wanted to have them without Claire, and he’d thought he had a plan to get them. But that was gone now.

  He squeezed her hands. ‘Me too, darling,’ he said. ‘You’re all I need, and you always have been.’

  He was making some toast when his phone rang. It was DI Wynne.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘How is everything?’

  ‘As good as can be expected,’ Alfie said. ‘At least it’s all over.’

  ‘Yes. We have that to be grateful for. Could I speak to Mrs Daniels? I do have one request for her.’

  Claire was taking a shower. Alfie didn’t want to interrupt her.

  ‘She’s not available at the moment. Can I pass on a message?’

  ‘Of course,’ DI Wynne said. ‘We have an identikit of Bryant and I would like to show it to her to see if it looks like him.’

  ‘OK. Do you need to come to the house?’

  ‘I can email it.’

  ‘Fine.’ Alfie changed the subject. ‘Have you made any progress?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Wynne said. ‘It’s odd. We don’t have any CCTV as of yet, and we can’t find much evidence of Bryant. He has a passport – which he hasn’t used – but we can’t find much else on him. There’s a possibility he doesn’t exist at all. I’m starting to think that someone created him as a fake identity to hide behind. It’s going to make it a lot harder, to be honest.’

  Alfie was glad to hear it. ‘That’s not great,’ he said.

  ‘No, but I think your involvement with him is over, at least,’ she said. ‘I assume he’ll want to keep well clear of you.’

  ‘I hope so. But we’d still like to see him brought to justice. It would give us both peace of mind.’

  ‘Yes,’ DI Wynne said. ‘It would for all of us.’

  ii

  Alfie had to get out of the house. Claire had moped from room to room all afternoon and he could no longer bear the sight of her. Fortunately she was asleep, again, and so he could escape.

  He jotted a note – Gone out to get milk. Back soon. Love you, A xxx – and then walked out of the kitchen door to the gate at the end of the garden. He was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses in case anyone recognized him. He didn’t want to be disturbed. He wanted to think.

  He was now convinced that whoever abducted Claire had been using other people’s profiles as cover for what they were doing. It was simply coincidence that they had chosen Henry Bryant. At first it had seemed too big a coincidence, but the more he had thought about it the more he realized it wasn’t. There were not that many people using websites to find illicit sex. Of the portion of the population who were interested in an affair, the majority would end up doing it – if they did it at all – with a colleague or with someone they met in a hotel bar on a lonely business trip. The number who were systematically seeking people out on websites was pretty small.

  Then there was the fact that whoever it was would have to choose people of his own age, which reduced the possibilities yet further, as well as someone who did not show their face in the
ir profile photo, which left hardly any possibilities. So it wasn’t all that surprising he had landed on Henry Bryant.

  The real surprise was that Claire had been using the websites, but even that had been cleared up. She’d been going through a tough time – by her standards – and it was simply more evidence that you never really knew someone, however much you thought you did.

  But she was done with all that. She was newly committed to him. And he dreaded it. He had to get out of it, somehow.

  He needed a new plan.

  A new plan to kill her.

  Because that was the only way to deal with this, once and for all. He’d learned that with Pippa. The problem was how. Push her off a cliff? Stage a burglary? Poison her? No – he’d be the obvious suspect and would be caught immediately. That was why Henry Bryant had been such a brilliant idea – it made it look like there was someone picking up women on the internet and killing them, and Claire was simply the latest. Plus, he, the luckless cuckolded husband, would get everyone’s sympathy.

  But his Bryant plan was gone, and he had no idea what else he could do.

  Something would come to him, though. It always did, and when it came, he would be ready to exploit it. That was his great skill: he was a master opportunist. He recognized opportunities, and grabbed them, like he had done the day he first saw Claire.

  He would find a way, in time. He would find a way because he wanted to, and Alfie got what he wanted.

  It was good to be away from her. He was able to relax, and think. He sat at a table outside a café and caught the eye of the waitress. She nodded – Be there in a sec – and turned to clear a table. He studied her. She was in her early twenties, athletic build, a plain white thong poking above the waist of her tight jeans. He’d remember her for later, and when Claire was gone he’d come back here and get chatting to her, smile his warmest smile, suggest maybe meeting for a drink.

  He watched her and tried to work out her story. He decided she was single. Maybe recently broken up with her boyfriend. There was something in the way she looked at the male customers. An invitation of some sort. Obviously not well-off, or she wouldn’t be doing this job, and she wouldn’t be wearing clothes that were reaching the end of their useful life. But pleasant, well spoken. The kind of girl who wanted more. Who thought she deserved more, who would be surprised when a handsome, wealthy customer got chatting to her and asked her out, but not so surprised that she would be suspicious of his motives.