I Dare You (ARC)

by Sam Carrington

  do you understand?’

  Muriel nodded, thinking that from where she was standing,

  the Reverend seemed as afraid of Billy Cawley as the village kids were. She opened her mouth to say as much, but Reverend

  Farnley put his hand up to silence her.

  ‘You know how people talk, Muriel. You of all people know.

  As I say, I would rather Billy wasn’t put under scrutiny merely

  as a result of one conversation with a child – one who is clearly vulnerable. It could produce all kinds of problems. I shouldn’t

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  have tried talking to her without a professional – a social worker, or at the very least a teacher. It was foolish of me and Lord

  knows I should’ve known better . . .’

  ‘Are you telling me to ignore my suspicions, Reverend? Allow her to be abused by her own father?’

  ‘No, Muriel, of course not.’ He sounded exasperated. ‘We’re

  both after the same outcome here, I think?’ He raised both

  eyebrows, his deep honey-brown eyes boring into Muriel’s. ‘If

  you help me out here, I can help you out with your “mission”?’

  Muriel raised her eyebrows to match the Reverend’s expres-

  sion. What exactly was he saying? She questioned if he really

  knew about her mission, because his current suggestion led her to believe he couldn’t. He seemed too keen to protect Billy rather than rid the village of him, which was her aim.

  Unless he knew something she didn’t. He was privy to things

  she wasn’t, being a servant of God. And lots of villagers entrusted him with their personal business. Maybe he had information

  she could use. ‘I do have something I’m working on, actually,’

  Muriel said, finally. ‘I’m sure at some point down the line you’d be useful.’

  He smiled, baring his large, square teeth. ‘That’s good. God

  moves in mysterious ways, Muriel. He will ensure the safety of

  the flock.’

  Muriel wasn’t so sure about that. She couldn’t place so much

  faith in the Lord, only in herself.

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  Chapter Seventy-Three

  2019

  Anna

  Thursday 18th July

  Anna held her mobile up higher, trying to get a full signal before calling Carrie. She’d walked to the end of her mother’s road,

  not just because of the signal, but also because she wanted to

  be out of earshot. After she chatted with Carrie, she wanted to

  tell James what she’d found out about her dad. She needed

  someone who knew her, someone who knew her history, to talk

  it through with.

  Finally gaining four bars, Anna dialled. Carrie picked up on

  the first ring.

  ‘Mum! Where have you been? Why haven’t you called me?’

  Anna’s heart plummeted. Her poor daughter was suffering

  from her absence.

  ‘I’m so sorry, love. I don’t think I’ll be much longer.’ Anna

  winced; she shouldn’t make false promises. ‘If it looks like it’ll take more time, I’ll bring Nanna home with me.’

  ‘Why can’t I come there with you?’

  ‘You’d be so bored here, Carrie. There’s literally nothing to

  do. Don’t you remember me telling you how tedious it was for

  me growing up here? Trust me, nothing has changed.’

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  ‘But I’d be with you. I miiiiissssss you,’ she wailed.

  ‘I miss you too, honey. I have a feeling things might sort

  themselves out in the next few days.’ And she did have that

  feeling – she wasn’t lying about that. In her gut, Anna knew it

  was coming to a head – some grand finale was due. Given that

  the thirty-year anniversary of Jonie’s actual disappearance was

  tomorrow – Friday 19th July – it seemed the most likely day

  that this, whatever ‘this’ was, would end. How it would end was

  the worrying, unknown factor.

  After giving Carrie further assurances she’d see her soon, she

  was happy to pass the phone to James.

  ‘So, things not going to plan, then?’

  ‘Not really. On the plus side, I no longer think Mum has

  dementia.’

  ‘Oh? Then why was she acting so strangely?’

  Anna gave him a brief run-down of what had been happening,

  hearing a sharp intake of breath every now and then. She finished her monologue with the part where her dad had supposedly

  abandoned her due to Muriel’s behaviour. The reason for never

  contacting Anna seemed to be because it was easier for her

  mother. He’d apparently loved Anna. Even vocalising it to James made her shake her head in disbelief.

  ‘What does that even mean?’ he asked.

  ‘Precisely! If he loved me, he wouldn’t have given up so readily.

  It doesn’t add up, does it? Why make my mother’s life easier,

  not mine?’

  ‘I suppose we don’t know how Jonie’s abduction and the

  subsequent assumption that she’d been murdered affected him

  and your mum’s relationship. Or you for that matter. Thankfully

  it’s not something we’ve ever had experience of. We can’t know the reasons your dad chose to leave for another woman and shack

  up with her in another country; we’ve only one side of the story.’

  There was a pause before James spoke again. ‘Is it wise, dragging this up now? I mean, you’ve had years to question this . . .’

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  ‘Don’t you start,’ Anna huffed. ‘Everyone seems to have an aversion to digging things up!’

  ‘Sorry, but why now?’

  ‘Because of the situation,’ Anna said, her tone shrill. She took

  a deep breath. ‘This is why I don’t visit Mapledon, James. This

  is why I rarely see my mother. Because now I have spent lots of time in her company, I can’t help but question everything. It’s

  easier to let sleeping dogs lie when there’s distance.’

  ‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘Maybe that was your dad’s view too.’ His

  voice was almost a whisper as though afraid of Anna’s reaction.

  Anna wanted to be angry with him, shooting a sarcastic

  comment back, but it was as if all her energy left her. ‘Whatever.’

  ‘Have you got contact details for him—’

  ‘God, no, James. I’m not speaking to him, or seeing him. I

  don’t care what his reasons were. As far as I’m concerned, they

  weren’t good enough to leave a ten-year-old daughter. Would

  you leave Carrie?’

  ‘Well, no. Of course not.’

  ‘Exactly. Nothing could cause you to abandon her. My dad

  was selfish and weak, end of. And my mother let him walk and

  is now trying to somehow justify his actions by saying he’d left

  because of her, not me. You know, because he still loved me.

  Well, that’s bollocks.’

  ‘I agree, it’s weak. But maybe he deserves to put his side

  forward, rather than having Muriel speak for him?’

  Anna closed her eyes, her mind conjuring her dad’s sandy-

  brown hair flopping over his high forehead. His cool-blue eyes.

  She could hear his calming voice, feel his warm hugs.

 
; ‘One day, maybe. For now though, I need to see this through

  here.’ She brought the conversation back to the present; she’d

  deal with her past another time.

  ‘Do you think you’re in danger? Or that Muriel is?’ James’s

  voice was edged with concern.

  ‘I change my mind about that almost hourly, James. I’ve

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  spoken to an ex-copper about it, but still haven’t gone to the police officially.’

  ‘I think you should. Couldn’t they place a patrol car outside

  the house? At least you’d feel safer.’

  ‘Possibly.’ Anna became lost in her thoughts. It was the

  obvious solution – get the police involved. The doll parts,

  together with the notes, were surely evidence enough someone

  meant them harm? The police would do something. ‘Mum still seems keen to avoid police involvement.’

  ‘Why?’ James’s voice was incredulous.

  ‘She believes it would aggravate the situation, make it worse.

  Maybe she feels he’ll up his game, or just find another way of

  getting to her. I don’t know. But there is the possibility she’s

  still not telling me everything. She’s holding back key informa-

  tion, I feel sure. And that’s why she doesn’t want to call the

  police – because it’ll bring up the past she’s been trying so hard to keep buried.’

  ‘Then I think it’s about time she came clean, at least to you.

  For your sake, Anna. For Carrie’s. Currently her behaviour is

  putting you at risk. Does she really want that?’

  James’s words rang inside her head as she walked back to the

  house. The front door was bare. No new body part had been

  hammered to it overnight. Anna wondered when it would come.

  When Pat had come over the previous evening and Anna had

  shown him the doll’s parts and the notes, he’d offered to sit

  outside in his car and watch the house. Muriel had declined, of

  course.

  But it’d made Anna think that maybe she should stay up –

  keep a vigil – see who was leaving them. She should’ve set up

  a camera as soon as the second item had been left, to catch them

  in the act herself, as Sandie had suggested. But she supposed

  whoever it was would be clever – they would’ve factored in

  something like that, and they’d be disguised. Still, having any

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  kind of visual evidence would be helpful to them – at least it might be possible to tell if it were a man or woman. Being able

  to eliminate Lizzie as the suspect would allow Anna to fully

  confide in her. Realistically, she was the only one Anna could

  work with to get to the bottom of what happened to Jonie Hayes.

  Anna felt buoyed at the thought of doing something more

  constructive. She hadn’t even ventured out of Mapledon since

  getting there – a trip into Bovey, the closest town, to buy a

  security camera would be a relief. Allow her some release from

  the village, which in some ways was beginning to feel like a

  prison.

  Anna had enjoyed the few hours away from Mapledon – and

  her mother. It was as though a stormy cloud had been lifted the

  second she left. Anna remembered that feeling – it was the same

  she’d experienced twenty years ago. But Anna’s light mood

  darkened the moment she pulled her car into her mother’s road.

  Even from a distance she could tell there was something on the

  door. If only they could’ve waited until she’d set the camera up.

  It’s as if they knew what she was planning.

  She slowly got out of the car, trying to delay the inevitable.

  There it was: the next body part – an arm. Anna stood still in

  front of it, the bag carrying the camera in her hand. Damn it.

  Only one more part to go. Or that was the general consensus

  anyway. The torso would be the final piece, and Anna guessed

  it would be tomorrow’s offering. There was one last chance to

  get the perpetrator on camera.

  ‘Mum!’ Anna called out as she walked through the door.

  ‘Mum?’

  Anna pushed through the lounge door, but there was no sign

  of Muriel. Popping the bag on the dining room table, Anna

  walked out into the back garden, calling as she went. A door

  banged.

  ‘Here!’ Muriel shouted, and Anna watched as she emerged

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  from Sandie’s back door. Finally, she’d ventured in to see her neighbour, and typically that had been when the arm had been

  attached to the door. ‘You took your time,’ she said, her words

  cutting.

  ‘Sorry, it wasn’t easy to find a shop in Bovey that sold the

  type of camera I wanted. It had to be one with night vision.’

  ‘You managed to get one, though?’ Muriel closed the gate

  that separated hers and Sandie’s houses and ambled to the back

  door. She was more hunched than she’d appeared before: her

  shoulders rounded, her spine curved. She looked so much older

  than sixty-five – Anna had seen sprightlier ninety-year-olds. It

  was like she was shrinking, disappearing further inside herself

  with each new day.

  ‘Yes. And we got another doll part, too.’

  Muriel’s face blanched. ‘I thought we’d got away with it today.’

  ‘Yes, me too. Didn’t you hear anything?’

  ‘No.’ Muriel shook her head, sighing. ‘Nothing. Sandie and

  I were in the kitchen. If we’d been in the lounge I might’ve.

  Right, so what’s this one got to say?’

  ‘Let’s look, shall we?’

  They both sat at the table, Anna with the skewer poised ready.

  ‘Go on, then,’ Muriel said. Anna dug out the piece of paper:

  SOMEONE HAS TO CONFESS. NOW! YOUR TIME IS

  RUNNING OUT.

  Muriel muttered something under her breath and rose from

  her chair. Without looking at Anna she walked into the lounge.

  Anna sat for a while, thinking.

  Someone has to confess. Now. Your time is running out. What was going to happen when the undisclosed time ran out? That

  was the question. If the person didn’t confess, what were they

  going to do about it? There couldn’t be enough evidence of

  wrongdoing or surely they’d be taking it to the police, not

  terrorising her mother. They had to be bluffing, or they were

  about to take matters into their own hands and dish out what

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  they believed to be justice. If this person was so convinced Billy Cawley was wrongly convicted, how far were they willing to go

  to clear his name? If it was Billy himself behind it – Anna would bet he’d go quite far.

  But maybe that wasn’t the intention.

  As she’d already thought, there couldn’t be enough evidence

  for the police, so this must be a way of getting back at someone

  purely for their own satisfaction. Rightly or wrongly they’d

  decided Billy was innocent and someone else guilty. Lifting the

  blame and pushing it ont
o someone else was maybe a way of

  ridding themselves of the guilt. Or sharing it.

  The only thing Anna knew was that her mother had been

  instrumental in Eliza’s removal from Billy’s care. But what if it hadn’t ended there?

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  Chapter Seventy-Four

  2019

  Lizzie

  Dom had been snoring gently when she’d returned to the room

  the previous night. Lizzie had watched him, silent tears tracking down her face. She was still reeling from Rob’s recollection of

  what had happened in her bedroom when she was eight years

  old, his words echoing in her mind:

  ‘ It was you. You who touched me. And made me touch you. ’

  She’d never felt so horrified.

  Her own reaction had been quick, drenched in disbelief:

  ‘ I was eight years old, Rob – why are you saying this? Why

  would you lie about something like this? ’

  But, as he’d crumpled into the chair, his head buried in his

  hands, she’d known. He wasn’t lying. After he’d composed

  himself, he’d told Lizzie everything he remembered from that

  afternoon. How he’d freaked out. How he’d thought Billy was

  going to kill him if he’d seen, or if Eliza told him. Who’d believe an older boy over an eight-year-old girl? Certainly not the girl’s father. She would be seen as the victim, not him. Rob said he’d

  run out of the bungalow and legged it back to the safety of the

  shop and been afraid for weeks afterwards that Billy Cawley

  would come for him.

  He’d never spoken to anyone about what happened. After

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  years of ignoring it, it’d been put to the back of his mind – other problems had replaced the incident: Eliza had been taken away,

  Jonie had been abducted and killed. He’d told Lizzie how, at

  first, he believed he would somehow get the blame for Jonie.

  Like someone would find out about Eliza and him and add two

  and two together and come up with ten. Assume he was a

  delinquent, someone who touched up girls – and people would

  think he’d harmed Jonie too.

  Lizzie’s heart had ached for him. His childhood had been

  upturned, ruined. Innocence lost.

  The same as Lizzie.

  Only she’d caused Rob’s distress.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she’d said.

  ‘You can’t blame yourself. You were a child, for God’s sake,