Under Loch and Key

by Kathryn Cockrill

  “Mum?” My voice stuttered, the vestiges of sleep still clinging to my throat. She didn’t look at me again, just blinked. Silence hung in the air between us, crushing the atmosphere. Abruptly, the whimpering cut off, replaced by a rasped whisper. I leant in as she spoke, ears straining to hear.

  “He’s gone.” Her voice broke at the end, lips snapping shut like she didn’t want the words out in the world. I’d frozen, those two words confirming what I’d felt in my gut since I’d stood next to her. With jerking movements, I turned my head until I could see inside Eli’s room. My stomach clenched. It looked like a bomb site; the bookcase was on its side, paperbacks strewn across the navy carpet with haphazard care. The sheets from his bed sat in a tangled ball in the corner, wilting against the wall, the now-depressing dove grey only adding to the warzone. His desk was bare, its contents scattered on the floor in a graceful arc, paperclips decorating the rug, Post-It notes arranged like a mosaic around them. Even his wardrobe had been pulled open, the finite collection of clothes torn apart, arms of jumpers hanging weakly from the doors, jeans crumpled in a pile. The only thing that had remained pristine was his bedside table, the black paint glowing in the pale light. On it sat his notebook, or one of his many notebooks, a framed photo of us and the mutated DNA model he’d made in Year 11. My gaze caught on the photo, taken a few months ago on his 24th birthday. I’d dragged him out to the beach, the freezing wind biting our faces, turning our cheeks cherry red. You could see it in the picture. Unbidden, tears built in my eyes, but I wiped them away furiously.

  You don’t get emotional. You’re not Mum. Stop it.

  Forcing my eyes away from the destruction, I turned back to my mother who had fallen deathly silent now, her eyes glassy, caught in some faraway nightmare. Across the hallway a door opened and shut quietly, and I spun around, catching my dad’s eye as he exited the office, a phone pressed to his ear.

  “We don’t know how long he’s been gone. It will be less than 12 hours.” His voice was tight, each word clipped. I couldn’t tell if they were clipped with anger or with pain. A tinny voice sounded on the other end of the phone and he raised his eyes to the ceiling. “I know it’s still early and I know he’s not a minor, but his room looks like there’s been a fight or something… yes I can write down a description… thank you.” He pulled the phone away from his face and tapped his thumb on the screen, ending the call. Then his eyes dropped back down to me.

  “They’re sending someone over to look for fingerprints or signs of forced entry. But if they don’t find anything, they won’t do anything else until tomorrow… They think he’s run away.” He ran a hand through his thinning hair, the barely-contained frustration now evident in his voice. My mother, who had been so still I’d forgotten she was there, suddenly spun around and disappeared across the hallway into my parent’s room, slamming the door behind her. From the hallway we could hear her begin sobbing, the thin wood doing little to soften the blow. My dad looked from the door to me, then back again. I gave him a thin smile and a nod. One hand reached out, stroking my hair quickly before he also turned and walked into the room. As the door opened, I could see my mother sat on the bed, tears streaming down flushed cheeks. The door shut again, leaving me alone with the silence of the hallway.

  The scene in Eli’s room felt even dimmer than before when I turned back to it. My eyes went back to the bedside table again, the tiny piece of him that somehow hadn’t been touched. Before I could think about it, I strode into the room, picking my way around the debris on the floor and grabbed the photo frame, hugging it to my dressing gown. I made to leave again, then hesitated, eyes dropping to the notebook. I had a pretty good idea what was in that notebook and I also had a pretty good feeling that it wasn’t something that the cops should be reading. I grabbed that too, the pages rough against my palm and darted back across the room and down the hall, not pausing until I had reached my own bed. The sheets were still warm, but I was shivering, the dressing gown doing nothing.

  Slowly the golden hue of sun washed across my room, but I ignored it, photo frame and notebook hugged to my chest, trying to ignore the tears that slipped slowly from my eyes, dampening the pillowcase. I heard the police arrive, the front door shutting seeming to shake the whole house, ringing in my ears. Lifting my head from the pillows, I could see the shadows of feet pass by my door, stomping down the hallway towards Eli’s room. Guilt gnawed at me as I clutched the photo frame and notebook in my hands, hoping my parents hadn’t noticed them in there earlier.

  My dad’s voice filtered through the thin walls; he was talking low but very fast and even through the wallpaper I could pick out the growing panic. I was sure my mum hadn’t been the easiest person to deal with whilst we waited for the forensics team to show up. I almost pushed myself up and went down the hall to join them, the small, childlike part of me wanting to help her dad, but if I left the room and went down there, saw the forensics team, it would all become a lot more real. Instead I gently pushed back the bottom of the duvet that I’d tangled my feet in and slid out of bed, leaving my dressing gown behind. The low murmur of my dad’s voice got louder as I pressed my ear to the wall, for once glad that the walls were paper thin. Shortly another voice responded, a gruff muttering that I presumed to be one of the forensics team.

  “Looks like…idnap.”

  I was going to fill in the blanks and guess he meant kidnap. My stomach seized, the tears threatening to come back.

  “How can you be sure?” My dad sounded how I felt, like the floor had dropped from under me. I flattened the rest of my body against the wall, straining to hear the response.

  “From a preliminary look, it appears there was some kind of disturbance in the room. There is a collection of hairs on the far wall that look as though they were ripped from someone’s head and I’ve found a small blood splatter under the window.” I gasped then shut my mouth as the forensics investigator trailed off. There were a couple of seconds of silence as I held my breath then the investigator continued “There’s also this…” More silence. Years ago, my brother and I had talked about making a hole in this wall and putting in a little window, so we could talk to each other when one or the other was grounded. Right now, I was wishing we had. After a couple of seconds my dad spoke again,

  “Why would there be a needle?”

  So, they could drug him and get him out of the house.

  “So, they could drug your son and get him out of the house.” The investigator echoed my line of thought. I slumped against the wall as the room fell silent again and tried to breathe. I could feel the grey creeping in at the edge of my vision that signalled the beginning of a panic attack. I tilted my head back against the wall, focusing on my breathing.

  Breathe in, hold, one, breathe out, breathe in, hold, two, breathe out…

  There were distant noises in the room behind me, but I forced them out of my head and closed my eyes against the encroaching panic. Eventually, the haze receded, my hammering heartbeat steadying, and my eyelids fluttered open. Even though it hadn’t been a full attack, my hands were shaking, cold and clammy, as I clutched them to my chest. As I sat there, the investigator spoke again,

  “I’ll take this back to the station and send an officer round to get statements. They’ll start the investigation straight away. I’m…I’m sorry.” There was a shuffling, the heavy clump of boots vibrating across the floorboards and seconds later, a shadow passed under my door again. Only one. Trying to ignore my shaking hands, I pushed myself up and pressed my ear against the wall again. From the other side I could hear heavy breathing and could imagine my father struggling to keep his composure. I knew he would come to my room in a few minutes and ask if I was okay, pretending he was. I knew he would have to go to my mother and tell her that her son has been kidnapped. There was a small sob, then a long breath in and out as if everything was settling back into place, the mask coming back down. I fought to keep my own composure as his slippered feet padded down the hall and paused outside m
y room. He knocked softly, then opened the door slightly when I didn’t answer. His gaze was directed towards the bed when he poked his head towards the door and concern flitted across his face when he realised I wasn’t there. Before he could start freaking out, I moved, drawing his eye over to the wall. His shoulders relaxed and his expression smoothed out as he took me in then realised where I was sat.

  “Oh, sweetheart…?” I couldn’t respond, my throat dry, so I just nodded my head and watched the understanding settle over his features. He opened the door fully and crossed the room, long strides eating up the beige carpeting before crouching and enveloping my torso in a hug. I leant my head on his shoulder and stopped keeping the tears back. After a few seconds, I heard my door close softly and then a second pair of arms were around my shoulders. My mum leant her head on the top of mine and made small ‘shh’ noises into my hair. We stayed like that until another knock rang through the house, breaking the tentative bubble we were in. My dad moved first, his hands wiping away silent tears and hurried down the stairs, whilst my mum stayed hugging me. We could hear the muted sounds of conversation and I started wiping away my own tears, ready to be called down. Sure enough, seconds later my dad called back up the stairs and dragged us out of my cocooned room to talk to the police.

  It felt surreal. Almost like I was watching myself on a TV screen. I sat on the couch opposite the two officers with a dazed nod. I was still in my pyjamas. The tiny cotton shorts were doing nothing for me now, my dressing gown still abandoned in my room and the early morning chill somehow seeping into every corner of the house. It might have been shock. The first officer, a woman with a severe bun and soft eyes, talked, her mouth pulled into a sympathetic line. I realised when she paused that I hadn’t been listening and she was now expecting an answer.

  “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?” My voice came out croaky, harsh against my tongue. The officer, smiled at me and nodded,

  “We wanted to ask you a couple of questions. First of all, my name is Officer Dunn, and this is Officer Blake. We’ve been assigned to your brother’s case. Your parents have told me that you and Eli-” I flinched at his name, “-were quite close, is that correct?” I nodded, biting my lip to keep it from shaking. Officer Blake noted something down, his brows pulled together. I kept my gaze on Officer Dunn. “Did he say anything to you about anyone who would want to hurt him?” I shook my head, almost before she had finished asking the question. Eli wasn’t enemies with anyone. He always said he hated the idea of hating another person and I always told him he was soft.

  “Eli was nice to everyone. I don’t think someone would have tried to kidnap him out of malice.” I muttered, glancing across to Officer Blake, who had started scribbling more stuff down as soon as I started to talk. I turned my head to look at my parents who were sat at the table behind the sofa. They gave me encouraging smiles, although my mum’s was more of a watery grimace. Officer Dunn cleared her throat, bringing my attention back to her.

  “Can you remember Eli acting strange at all? Perhaps worried?” Officer Blake’s pen paused as he waited for my answer.

  What, stranger than normal?

  I shook my head again.

  “He wasn’t out of sorts last night. We’d watched a movie before we went to bed, just the two of us. Blockers. He found it pretty funny.” I don’t know why I felt the need to tell them that. Maybe it was just reassuring myself that he wasn’t acting strange. I know he’d made some kind of breakthrough in his notebook; he’d been so excited to tell me over dinner. But I didn’t want them asking where the notebook was, not when it was still tangled in my duvet. Tampering with evidence and all that; I also really didn’t think Eli would want them to see his research.

  Officer Blake made a sound at the back of his throat, like a small scoff, before Officer Dunn turned to glare at him. When she turned back to me, she had once again schooled a perfectly sympathetic expression onto her face.

  “If you think of anything that could help, please let us know.” I nodded, “Also, if Eli contacts you, you need to tell us right away. We might be able to trace his location.” She smiled then her gaze flickered over to my parents and she stood up. “We are going to start the search immediately, using the evidence forensics collected. The best thing for you all to do would be to resume your normal routine. If this is malicious,” I opened my mouth to object, but Officer Blake glared at me until I shut it again, “If this is malicious, there is a chance the kidnappers will contact you with demands. They might be monitoring you all so we would also suggest making sure doors and windows are locked at all times. We will keep you up to speed as much as we can and, with any luck, we will have Eli back very soon.” My dad got up as she finished, reaching his palm out for a handshake. After the moment in my bedroom both he and my mother had seemed to put on impenetrable masks, neither of them showing any slip of emotion during the police interviews. I couldn’t understand how they did it, especially my mother. As the officers got up to leave, Officer Blake shot me a wary glance like he thought I was hiding something. I glared back at him. Yes, I was hiding something, but it wasn’t anything they needed to know about.

  I waited until my dad had closed and locked the door behind them before getting up from the sofa and padding back up to my room. My parents started a whispered conversation, but I didn’t make any attempt to listen. I moved on autopilot, shuffling into the bathroom to clean my teeth, then going back to my bedroom and pulling on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a baggy jumper. As I shrugged it over my head, I realised it was Eli’s university jumper that I’d stolen last night when we were watching a movie. A sob worked its way up my throat, but I forced it back down and hunted for a pair of socks. Barely ten minutes after I’d gone upstairs, I was back in the hallway, backpack slung over my shoulder. I dumped it by the back door and walked through the living room and dining room into the kitchen. My mother stared at me as I slunk past her, making my way to the fridge.

  “Are you…are you going to school?” Her voice was quiet but incredulous as I grabbed a yoghurt from the shelf and shut the door, turning to face her. Both of them were watching me, my mother in shock and my dad with concern. I nodded, ripping off the top of the yoghurt and licking the foil before dropping it in the bin.

  “The police told us to resume our normal routine. Normally I would be eating a yoghurt and wishing I didn’t have to go to school. So here I am.” I checked the clock on the oven. I’d lost track of time over the last few hours and for all I knew I was three hours early for school. Luckily, or unluckily, 07:45 blinked out at me. I had 15 minutes before I needed to leave. Looking back at my parents, neither of whom had responded, I shrugged and grabbed a spoon from the drawer. My mum made a move to grab my arm as I walked past but she was stopped by Dad, his hand accompanied by a subtle shake of the head. I say subtle. I saw it but I appreciated that he had tried to be discreet. Although she clearly wasn’t happy, Mum dropped her arm and watched me walk and sit at the table. Spooning yoghurt into my mouth without Eli making comments about how messy I was was strange.

  I know to my parents it looked like I had just moved on but inside I wanted to scream and cry. I just didn’t know what I could do to help, other than what the police had told us to do. So that’s what I was doing. My parents resumed their whispered conversation, although this time it was more likely to be about me than Eli. The minutes ticked by at an agonising dawdle but as soon as it hit 8:00am I was up from the table and heading towards the door. As I was picking up my backpack my dad appeared behind me. I faced him as I slung my backpack over my shoulder; he attempted a smile and gave me a quick hug.

  “If you need us, give us a call. We’ll come get you.” I nodded and hurried out the door before my lip started wobbling, throwing my bag into the back of my car and starting the ignition forcefully. If I didn’t, I would run back to my bed and hide and possibly never come out. The radio started playing and I turned it up louder, drowning out any attempt on behalf of my brain to drag me back into the cr
ying, weeping mess I’d been only a couple of hours before.

  By the time I got to school, everyone knew. It’s that kind of town. As soon as the forensic van had pulled up outside our house in the early hours of the morning, someone had seen it; then that someone had told someone else and that someone else had told everyone. I felt it as soon as I walked into school; it didn’t matter that I slunk through the doors, hood of the jumper tight around my ears, eyes down. I could feel everyone looking at me. A couple of them had siblings who knew my brother and they murmured sympathetically as I drifted past. But most people stared with intent to gossip. I caught a few people’s eyes as I walked to my morning tutorial, mostly because I was looking for Jacob and Becca. I hadn’t texted them, I hadn’t talked to anyone but my parents and the police, but they would know and, with a sudden Eli shaped hole in my life, I really needed to talk to my closest friends. I didn’t see them before I got to class so I knew I’d have to wait until 3rd period. More sympathetic glances were thrown my way as I sat down, immediately dropping my gaze to the desk and trying to shut out everything.