by Helen Phifer
‘Which friend?’
‘My girlfriend; his ex-girlfriend.’
DC Sloane took out a notebook. ‘I see. And do you think your girlfriend could be hiding him?’
‘No, definitely not. She left him. In fact, she’s left London, and didn’t give him her new address.’ A sickness began to spread inside Stella’s stomach.
‘Has he been in contact with you?’
‘No, thank God.’
‘Good, that’s good.’ DC Sloane smiled. ‘Well, I just wanted to check with you. If he turns up, you phone in immediately. And don’t worry, we’re doing all we can to locate him.’
The pounding in Stella’s head was making it hard to concentrate.
‘Stella, are you okay?’
She looked up, forcing a smile. ‘Fine, it’s all just been a bit of a shock. I’ve never been in a situation like this before.’
For the first time, the other detective spoke. ‘Are you sure you’re okay? If he comes back here, just ring 999. Don’t hesitate.’
Stella nodded. ‘I’m fine, thanks. I will. I’m not stopping here. I’m staying with a friend, and he doesn’t know where they live.’
DC Burns smiled at her. ‘That’s good, and probably best until we find him and arrest him. Once he’s in custody, we can organise bail conditions not to come anywhere near you.’
‘We’ll leave you to it, Stella.’ Emma Sloane passed her a card with her details. ‘Here’s my number if you need to speak to me.’
Stella watched as they left the flat. Once she heard their footsteps on the concrete steps below, she stood up and ran into the bathroom where she retched and heaved into the toilet. A hot stream of bright yellow bile and chocolate brownie splattered the toilet bowl.
What had she done? If the police couldn’t find Connor, it could only mean one thing: he’d gone to find Maddy. Stella’s legs quivered, threatening to give way as she retched once more. She had to go and tell Maddy what had happened – in person. She needed to warn her and make sure her friend was okay. Maddy was on her own in that huge house, in the middle of the Lake District, with no phone signal. She thought she was safe, that there was no way Connor would be able to find her.
And if it hadn’t been for Stella and her stupid hormones, Maddy would be as safe as someone in the witness protection programme. But Stella had blabbed the address to Connor and now Maddy was in danger. She had to get there. She didn’t care how, but she was going in the next ten minutes.
Splashing cold water over her face, she brushed her teeth, then ran into the bedroom to throw some things into an overnight bag. Christ, she’d never been to the fucking Lake District, and she wished she’d never bloody seen that advert for a caretaker.
All of this was her fault. Every last detail. And now she had to put it right, or she’d never be able to live with herself.
Chapter Forty-Two
S eth relived his dad’s final moments for the police officer sitting across from him. Glenys was on her second brandy, but he’d declined another, so she’d brought him a cup of strong, sweet, sugary tea. There were streaky mascara trails down her cheeks where she’d been crying. Coupled with her purple hair, she looked like some teenage Goth.
He knew she was trying to help, and he appreciated it, he really did. But he couldn’t be bothered with everyone. He wanted them all to go and leave him alone to have some time to think.
‘I’ve confirmed with the DI that there’s nothing suspicious about your father’s death,’ the officer told him. ‘Would you like us to contact the duty undertaker for you, or would you rather do that yourself?’
Seth knew that the duty undertaker was the one his dad had requested to deal with his funeral, because it was the only undertaker in the local area. He nodded. ‘Yes, please if you don’t mind.’ It was one less phone call to make.
The officer excused himself, going outside to speak into his radio. Seth heard voices outside as a couple of the regulars tried to get inside but were turned away by the copper.
Glenys smiled at him, and he smiled back despite the dull ache in his heart. He sipped his tea and grimaced; it was bloody vile. He should have stuck with the brandy.
Standing up, he went outside to see Fred and Tim being ushered away. He called after them; he might as well tell them what had happened. Once the silver van with private ambulance in bold, black letters printed across it pulled up outside the pub, everyone would know anyway. News travelled fast in the small village, so they would spread the word.
The two men shook his hand, offering their condolences. As they turned to walk away, he spotted Maddy’s car.
The keys were still in his pocket, so he might as well take them around for Andy. It wasn’t fair to leave her stranded out at Lake House with no transport when he’d promised to sort it out, despite what was happening to him.
He began to walk away from the pub and the small-scale circus inside, when he heard Glenys shout after him. ‘Seth, where are you going?’
He lifted his hand and waved, then carried on walking. He needed to clear his head and get some fresh air – they could manage without him for ten minutes.
Seth turned off the main street and headed for Andy’s house on the edge of the village, taking a moment to look up at Helvellyn. The views of the mountain and fells never failed to restore calm in his life; green was such a calming colour, and the entire village was shrouded by the lush verdant fells. Until he was in his late sixties, his dad had been a Mountain Rescue volunteer and his love of the area had rubbed off on Seth from an early age.
Seth felt a sharp pain inside his chest. His dad had been a good man; a much better man than him. He’d married and had a child, but what did he have? At this very moment, a pub he didn’t want, a knackered Land Rover, no wife or kids, and a crush on the pretty writer who had moved here in a moment of madness from the big city to write a book and would be leaving the minute it was finished.
Andy was underneath a rusted Ford Focus when Seth arrived at his small cottage.
‘Halt, who goes there?’
‘Seth.’
Andy slid himself out from underneath the car and stood up. ‘Morning, Seth, everything okay?’
He hadn’t intended to tell him about his dad, but it all came blurting out, and Andy stood there looking mortified.
‘Shit, that’s some bad crack that, lad. Is there anything I can do?’
Seth realised the poor guy was probably wondering what the hell he was doing here, and why he’d decided to come to tell him all of this. He cleared his throat. ‘Anyway, I came because there’s a VW Beetle parked across from the pub. It’s broken down and I wondered if you could take a look at it.’ He handed the keys to Andy.
‘Course I will, no bother. Phew, I was a bit worried there you were going to ask me to do something about your dad.’
Seth frowned. ‘Like what?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I was panicking in case you wanted me to come and check if he was really dead. Sorry, that sounds terrible, but you know what I mean. A broken-down car I can fix, no problem. I’ll give you a lift back and tow the Beetle back here if it can’t be sorted out there.’
‘Thanks, I appreciate it.’ He nodded at the Ford Focus. ‘Whose is the rust bucket?’
Andy laughed. ‘I’ll give you one guess.’
Seth didn’t even have to think about it. ‘Glenys?’
‘Yup. She bought it for two hundred quid. Drove it here a couple of weeks ago in a cloud of black smoke and asked me to sort it out. I’ve had to go all over Cumbria to get spare parts for it. Best thing she could have done is scrapped it.’
Seth laughed. That was Glenys to a tee. ‘It looks even worse than my car, and that’s saying something.’
‘Mate, your car is like a Jag compared to this.’
They got into Andy’s car, which smelt almost as bad as his Land Rover, and Seth stared gloomily out of the window. God, what a hopeless bunch. It was a village full of knackered cars and strange people.
Chapter Forty-Three
M addy walked behind Alfie, who kept slowing down so she could keep up with him. Her ankle wasn’t brilliant. It hurt when she put excess weight on it, but it wasn’t as serious as she’d feared, and she had no choice but to carry on walking to the village. Hopefully she would get a lift back.
After what seemed like hours, they arrived at a small playpark on the outskirts of the main street. Alfie turned to her and grinned. ‘This is my second favourite place. I hide here a lot. Especially when my mum is mad with me.’
He pointed to a grassy mound that had a tunnel running through the middle of it. Bending down, she looked inside and shuddered; it was creepy. Like one of the storm tunnels that run under Derry, Maine, in the book It by Stephen King. Maddy had been reading horror books since her teenage years and that was her particular favourite, though it had scared the shit out of her back then. She’d never really liked clowns and reading about Pennywise had taken her dislike to a whole new level.
‘Wow, you hide in there?’
‘Yep, all the time. The lake people don’t know about it, so it’s safe, and my mum can’t get inside it. She has a bad back and can’t crawl.’
‘Do you have to hide in there much?’
He nodded. ‘Yep. Sometimes the other kids are mean to me. Sometimes I do stuff which makes my mum mad at me.’
Maddy felt sorry for the boy. He was obviously a nice lad. He’d scared her earlier, but not on purpose, and he’d shown her the shortcut to the village.
‘Well I think you’ve been very kind to me today, so I’d like to buy you something as a thank you. Do you like books, magazines?’
She hoped he wouldn’t ask her for the latest copy of Playboy; how would she explain that to his mum? He was staring at her, smiling. ‘Don’t read much, but I like chocolate and fizzy pop. Cake I like a lot.’
‘Well, you show me where to buy cake and pop from, and I’ll buy you some.’
As he led her round the corner onto the main street, Maddy’s stomach lurched violently at the ambulance, police car, and crowd of villagers gathered outside Seth’s pub.
Immediately, Alfie ran off to see what was happening, leaving her to limp after him. Whatever it was it didn’t look good. She watched as Alfie pushed his way past the copper and paramedic who were chatting outside. Neither of them took a bit of notice of him, which Maddy reckoned was good. At least it couldn’t be serious.
A car drove up and parked behind the ambulance, and she saw Seth and a man get out. The man stuck his thumb up at Seth and crossed to where her car was parked. Relief flooded through her. He was okay, and whatever had gone on had nothing to do with him.
She waved at him, but he didn’t even look in her direction. He said something to the two men outside then disappeared through the pub doorway. Not wanting to bother him or look like a nosy neighbour, she walked straight past to the general store a bit further down the street.
It was brightly lit inside and well stocked with an assortment of decent wines; there was even a deli counter. Maddy bought fresh cheeses, meats, bread, olives, crisps, and anything else she thought would make a satisfying picnic, then picked up a couple of bottles of wine. The surly guy behind the counter didn’t have much to say, but Maddy didn’t care. She was from London, where the shops were full of rude sales assistants. She was tempted to ask him what had happened at the pub, but the fact that he didn’t break a smile once while serving, put her off. He didn’t seem like the sort to gossip. She’d ask Seth herself later.
Putting her supplies in the backpack, she hoisted it onto her back and went to find the guy who had dropped Seth off. But by the time she emerged from the shop, he’d gone – along with her car, the ambulance, and the police van. The pub door was shut, the villagers who’d been loitering outside had gone, and the place was as empty as the Marie Celeste.
Maddy frowned in confusion. Where did they all go? She hadn’t been inside the shop that long. Maybe they were inside the pub. She walked through the small beer garden and knocked on the front door. Then waited. No one answered, so she knocked louder.
When the door eventually opened, she was greeted by a woman with the purplest hair she’d ever seen, mascara smudged down her face.
‘Are you the undertaker?’
Maddy shook her head. ‘No, is Seth there? Is everything okay?’
The woman whispered. ‘He’s busy.’
Maddy felt the fine tendrils of black mist fill her veins as anger threatened to explode from her chest. So, this was the rude woman who’d answered the phone earlier.
‘I don’t care,’ she snapped. ‘I’ve walked all the way from Lake House to speak to him. It’s important.’
‘As important as him finding his dad stone dead at the top of the stairs?’
The colour drained from Maddy’s face and she felt terrible. ‘No, it isn’t. Oh God, I’m so sorry. Please accept my condolences, and would you tell Seth I called?’
The woman smiled. ‘You’re the crazy lady living in Lake House?’
‘I’m not crazy.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that how it sounded. It’s been a terrible morning, such a shock.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m Glenys. I own the kooky shop, or at least that’s what the locals call it. They think I’m crazy as well.’
Maddy grinned at her and shook her hand. ‘I’m Maddy. Seth has been helping me out. He’s been great.’ A thought suddenly struck her: what if Glenys was his girlfriend or partner? Her heart dropped. She’d been hoping he was single. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Nice to meet you.’
‘Hey, you should come to the shop. Not now, but tomorrow. I’ll pull some tarot cards for you and give you a reading.’
‘I’d love to.’ Maddy turned and walked away. Poor Seth. She wished she could do something for him. He’d been so kind to her since she’d arrived, and now he was going through this.
She hobbled towards the playpark and hoped she’d be able to find the way Alfie had brought her, because he was nowhere in sight to guide her back to Lake House.
Chapter Forty-Four
H e’d lain on the sofa listening to the local radio station for hours, although he wasn’t really listening. What he was waiting for was a mention of a missing walker; he needed the excitement and the thrill of the search. Then the kill. He didn’t know which he preferred, if he was honest. Both had their own different kind of attraction for him, though neither of them was right, and, he sure wasn’t going to heaven the sins he’d committed. Did he care? Not one little bit. Life was crap at times.
He was only doing what all those millions of inspirational quotes on social media were always telling him to. Was it his fault that doing what he loved was hunting and killing people? He could photograph one of the corpses before he sunk them into the lake, and caption it #doingwhatIlove. He wondered how many likes it would get before the police came looking for him.
He stood up, pacing the floor and staring out of his bedroom window. From here, he could see the village hall where the Mountain Rescue Team had a base, their mud-splattered 4x4 parked outside. If they all began scrambling towards the hall, it would be game on. He realised his fingers were crossed, wishing for some poor bastard to have wandered off and become lost on the fells. But so far, nothing much was happening tonight.
Just then, he saw an unfamiliar car drive into the village main street. Taking out his binoculars, he fixed on the car and the man driving it. He was alone. He’d pulled up outside the shop; he was either lost or hungry. Or both. The guy got out of the car and began to stretch his arms and legs.
This was interesting. It was almost closing time, and he’d be lucky to make it into the shop before Brian shut the door and locked up for the night.
He grinned to see the shop door, which had been propped open, suddenly slam shut. The guy legged it across the road and hammered on the door. Brian wasn’t going
to like that; he was a miserable sod on a good day.
Sitting on the edge of the sofa, he turned the lamp off and watched to see if the shop door opened again. If he was a betting man, he’d have put twenty quid on it staying shut. He let out a gasp when it opened again. Well I never! Brian, you must be feeling charitable tonight. That makes a change. I wonder what he wants?
He watched as the guy from the car managed to talk Brian into letting him inside, and he wished he knew what the conversation was about. Maybe they knew each other.
But a few minutes later, the guy came out with a carrier bag, and the door shut quickly behind him. The guy looked around the village; the light had faded fast in the short time he’d been inside the shop. It would be fully dark soon.
The mystery man began to walk towards the pub. That was all in darkness, too. After today’s tragedy, no one had expected Seth to open up, and the front door was shut. He wondered if the guy would be cheeky enough to hammer on that door, too. There was a guest house a bit further along, if he was looking for a room for the night, but when he’d passed earlier the sign outside had said ‘no vacancies’.
Still staring out of the window, he was undecided. Should he wait for a missing walker, or should he try to find out about the single guy looking for a room? Maybe he should do the right thing and open his door for him, go out and chat to him then offer him a couch to sleep on for the night. It would be so easy: let him inside, feed him, then kill him. That was one way to satisfy the urge pressing down inside his stomach and making it feel as if there was a lead ball in his gut.
Undecided, he’d just watch for now and play it by ear. Pushing one hand into his pocket, he felt the rough edges of his lucky coin. He could flip it and let fate decide the man’s future. Heads he died, tales he lived. It was as simple as that; nothing more to it.
Pulling out the coin, he began to turn it between his fingers. Flipping it into the air, he already knew the outcome. His lucky coin was a double-headed ten-pence piece.