by Danuta Kot
He could no longer see the stars, but he knew more or less where he was now. The map was in his head as clearly as if it was in his hand. He could hear the sea behind him. His pursuers were heading in that direction. It was dark – he could barely see the ground. Moving cautiously, he started to head away along the path.
His breath was sticking in his throat, but there was no time for a rest. He moved as fast as he dared along the faint track, trying to see ahead through the darkness. There could be anything – another drop; maybe he’d got the direction wrong and maybe he was heading straight for the cliff edge.
And then . . .
He looked up. In front of him were stone walls protecting a dark arched opening. It was the portal to a tunnel, a bricked-up tunnel, and the path led straight to it. For a moment of complete disorientation, he thought he was back at Kettleness, but then his sense of direction came back and he knew where he was.
This gully was Deepgrove, and he was at the southern entrance to the Sandsend tunnel.
His first thought was to scramble in and hide. He could even make his getaway – he could walk through the tunnel to the northern entrance that came out in wasteland halfway down the cliff, leading straight to the southern portal of the Kettleness tunnel.
. . . in the dark, no torch, no proper boots . . .
The searchers had been heading south. They’d assume he’d made it to Sandsend when they didn’t find him, so what would they do then? They’d come back this way – GBH’s car was up there near the cottage somewhere.
He needed to think but his head was all over the place. He felt jittery, sweaty, and nausea was making his stomach churn. As if on cue, the familiar dull ache began low down in his back.
He sank down with his back against the tunnel wall, and dug down for the determination that had got him out of tight places before, but there was nothing there, just the knowledge that he’d abandoned Charlie, left the girl, and now he was in the process of abandoning Becca.
He could stay here, sitting against the wall, waiting for daylight. He was pretty well hidden and the people who were after him wouldn’t stick around once it got light. Then he could climb back up the gully and go to the police, make it all someone else’s responsibility.
He could do that.
A memory surfaced from his childhood. When he was eight, his father had taken him up into the Scottish Highlands, near Cape Wrath. It was one of the first times they’d gone wild camping – pitching their tent on rough ground, finding their own routes away from official paths in one of the few parts of the country that was genuinely isolated. And he’d got ill – puking his guts up and worse. His dad had put him in the sleeping bag for warmth and fed him rehydration fluid made from boiled water, sugar and salt. ‘What do you want to do, mate?’ he’d asked Jared. ‘Go home? Or we can go on – if you want.’
Cold, sick and scared, Jared had just wanted to go home. Most of him wanted to be warm in his own bed with his mum to look after him, but something, another part of him, made him look at his father and say, ‘Let’s go on.’ His father had grinned and given him a high five.
What do you want to do, mate? Slowly, shakily, he stood up. His knee hurt – he could remember twisting it in the fall – but it took his weight OK. His back ached – so what’s new there? The painful joints, the shivering and the hot and cold feeling – he couldn’t do anything about that. It would have to wait.
Now he had to decide on the best thing to do. He was worried about Becca. He had no idea what she’d make of his non-appearance in York. He checked her phone. The battery was critically low, and down here in the gully, there was no signal. If she tried to contact him the phone would register as unavailable.
The obvious thing for her to do was to find her way back to the cottage, and if she did that, she might run smack into the people he’d had trouble with. She had no idea the cottage was dangerous.
He checked his watch with the light from his phone and swore under his breath. Almost an hour had passed since their call. She’d be expecting him to arrive soon and he had no way of contacting her.
Breathe . . . just flow . . . like water . . .
How did you get it so wrong, mate?
One thing at a time. With an effort, he pushed the thought of Becca to the back of his mind. He couldn’t do anything about her now.
He needed to get this sorted out in his head. Another thing his father had taught him – know the territory. Right now, he didn’t understand what was going on so he couldn’t make any sensible decisions. He’d been in dangerous situations before, but they were situations he’d chosen, and situations where he had – to some extent – the expertise and understanding necessary to get himself out. Mostly. The thing was, he’d known what was happening.
Now, he didn’t. These fuckers were trying to kill him. He couldn’t ever remember being as scared as he’d been just now, running away from the men who were after him. It had started the day of his first trip to the Kettleness tunnel. The police came, and GBH was there to hassle him as soon as they’d left.
At the time, GBH’s attitude had seemed like bad temper and bullying. The guy had just wanted to throw his weight about. Then the girl had been attacked on his property and Jared was a witness. The police were all over the site. After that, GBH had seriously wanted Jared gone. That made sense, in a way. But Jared had already been interviewed and had given all the information he had to the police. GBH must know that. So throwing Jared out was a classic case of closing the stable door after the horse had bolted, except . . .
Becca.
That was the difference. Jared had come back to the site with Becca, and GBH had seen her. Becca knew this Kay woman; Kay knew the girl on the site. Someone must have put it all together. That was when Jared had become dangerous in someone’s eyes.
Except he wasn’t. He knew fuck all about what was going on – he was like some moron who’d stepped onto a railway line he didn’t know was there and now the train was about to run him down. He barely knew Becca and hadn’t even met Kay.
But the people who were after him didn’t know that. And it seemed they were after Becca as well.
OK. The first thing he needed to do was get to his car and then either get himself across to York in the hopes Becca hadn’t given up on him and tried to make her own way back, or head into Whitby and talk to the police. He could help them identify the girl from the caravan site, and that was something, but without Becca, he only had half a story.
Shit! Whichever way he looked at it, it was a mess.
The adrenaline of fear had kept him going, but now his body was demanding payback. As he scrambled up the gully, using the tree roots and hanging branches as climbing aids, his mind started playing tricks on him. He almost fell when he caught sight of a figure standing among the trees, a figure that faded away as he jerked out of the exhaustion that was overcoming him.
And then he was climbing up a wall but he knew if he just lay down, he would find a safe, soft place where he could rest, and . . .
His foot slipped, almost sending him tumbling back down the slope. He was dreaming on his feet and if he fell into the gully again, he might not be so lucky. He’d be no use to Becca if he broke his back.
How long was it since he’d slept? Fatigue was making him stupid, and stupid meant he was putting himself in danger, but there was nothing he could do about that now. He unzipped his fleece, thinking he could use the cold to keep himself alert. He needed to lie low until he knew where GBH and the people who’d been after him were. He scrambled further up the hill until he was among the trees, then, using the intermittent moonlight, he found a vantage point where he could see the cottage and the line of the path.
The landscape was empty. He was pretty sure he could walk across there, get to his car and be away before anyone saw him, but that was the impulse of an addled brain. The people who’d been after him would need to come back this way and he was pretty sure they hadn’t, or not yet.
All he could do wa
s sit it out.
He found a hollow and piled up the fallen leaves to make a thick layer of insulation between himself and the ground, then, settling his back against a tree, he watched.
If no one came in half an hour, then he was going out there. He couldn’t leave it any longer.
Chapter 49
The police station turned out to be a police HQ: large, intimidating and with no obvious place for a visitor to go. Becca almost turned round to go back to the hospital, but Jared was missing and there was only her that knew. Or cared.
An obscure sign directed her towards reception, and she lifted her chin and marched through the door, which opened into a bare entrance with a window at one end. A sign said All visitors report here. Becca hesitated, then went across. She had no idea what she was supposed to do. ‘I want to talk to someone,’ she said to the woman who was sitting there staring at a computer screen.
The woman’s gaze didn’t shift and Becca said again, more loudly, ‘I want to . . .’
‘Name,’ the woman said, still focused on the screen.
‘Becca.’
The woman raised her gaze to look directly at her. ‘Second name?’
Becca stared straight back. I don’t have to tell you anything. ‘I just want to talk to someone.’ She refused to say what it was about, or to give any further information. The woman directed her to a chair with an irritated wave.
After a twenty-minute wait, she was shown into a small room by a young man who introduced himself as Dave. A woman joined them, nodded at the man and smiled at Becca. They both seemed friendly, but Becca knew all about that. ‘I’m DC Sharpe,’ the woman said. ‘Call me Mandy.’ Becca knew the ‘call-me’ types. Call-me-Julie, Call-me-Mike, I’m your friend. I want what’s best for you. Yeah, right. ‘OK, Becca – is it all right if I call you Becca?’ She didn’t wait for Becca’s response.
‘How can we help you?’
Becca had spent the walk over trying to work out what to say. It was all a muddle. Nothing fitted together. Stumbling badly over the story, she told them about the attack in the caravan park, about being followed at Kettlewhatsit. ‘Kettle-something,’ she told them.
‘Kettleness? Did you report that?’ Call-Me-Mandy asked.
Becca shook her head.
‘Why not?’
‘I just didn’t.’
‘So what’s happened to change your mind?’
Becca turned away from her and spoke directly to the man. She didn’t like Call-Me-Mandy with her Why nots. She told Dave about the fire and coming to the hospital with Kay and the call to Jared. ‘He’s got my phone,’ she said.
‘And he told you he knows who this girl at the caravan site is?’
Becca nodded.
‘But he didn’t tell you?’
‘No, the call . . . it just stopped. I think . . .’ She fought to keep her voice steady. ‘I think something might have happened to him.’
‘Can I have your number?’ Dave asked. He called it, listened, then, glancing up at Call-Me-Mandy, shook his head. ‘Unobtainable,’ he said. He sat in silence for a moment, then smiled at Becca. ‘Right. Becca. We need to check on a couple of things. We’ll sort you out with a cup of tea while you’re waiting.’
The tea was welcome. It came with some biscuits, which made her realise how hungry she was. She still had no idea what was going to happen next. When she’d finished here, what was she going to do? She’d have to go back to the hospital, talk to Kay – if Kay was OK. Last night Kay had looked so old. What if she didn’t make it?
The nurse had said Kay would be all right. They were just keeping her in for observation, wasn’t that it? But they didn’t keep you in hospital for nothing. Kay might be . . .
There was no point in thinking about it right now. Jared was missing. She had to get this interview or whatever it was sorted, then decide what to do next. She hated the way they were dragging their feet, but that was how they worked. Pigs. Call-Me-Mandy was a cow, but Dave seemed all right. For a pig.
If she could get back to Kay’s cottage, Jared’s car might still be there. She could get her money, and maybe there would be something to show where he’d gone. Maybe he’d be there himself. It went round and round in her head. She didn’t know what to do.
Almost half an hour passed before Dave and Call-Me-Mandy came back. By this time, Becca was fidgety with anxiety. Call-Me-Mandy gave her a long, measured look, but Dave’s grin was friendly. ‘Bit of bother at your foster-mum’s last night, then, Becca? It is Becca Armitage, isn’t it?’
She looked at him blankly, then understood what they’d been doing. They’d been looking up the Bridlington case, and they’d been looking up the people involved. They knew who she was. Now. ‘Yeah. She’s in hospital. I want to get back there. When we’ve done here.’
‘OK, Becca. Bear with me because this is all a bit complicated. Let’s try and start at the beginning. Now, I’ve been looking at your record. You’ve been in a bit of bother before, haven’t you?’
Becca’s mouth dropped open. ‘No, I haven’t.’
‘They don’t put you in a secure unit as a good citizenship prize, Becca. You were in there for six weeks, according to this.’ Call-Me-Mandy raised her eyebrows. ‘So what was going on?’
‘Nothing . . . it’s not a prison. It’s . . .’ Just for your own safety and protection, Becca. We’re trying to keep you safe.
‘Anti-social behaviour,’ Dave said. He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘And there was something about a fire. Then you went to live with the McKinnons. New start. Turning over a new leaf, right?’
‘I didn’t . . .’ She wanted to push the table over, kick their files across the room, smack their stupid faces until . . . Anger . . . Don’t waste . . . right way . . . ‘I didn’t do anything. They didn’t have anywhere else to send me, that’s all.’
‘That’s not what it says, Becca. You see, I don’t quite get what you’re doing here. Kay McKinnon’s house burns down, and you turn up with some story about a missing boyfriend and things he’s found out, only you don’t know what it is.’
‘It’s Jared. He isn’t my boyfriend. Something’s—’
‘Let’s just go back a bit, OK? Now, you leave the McKinnons’ and go to college in Leeds, right? But then you get into a bit of bother there, so Kay McKinnon finds you a job in Bridlington. And then you get into more bother, lose your job.’
Becca felt the colour flood into her face. ‘That’s got nothing to do with—’
‘You’re very touchy about it. Why’s that?’ Call-Me-Mandy sticking her oar in.
‘Because I got fired.’ Why do you think, you stupid cow?
‘It was over some pictures you posted, wasn’t it?’ Dave was looking through some papers on the table in front of him.
‘I didn’t post anything.’
‘Oh, come on, Becca.’ Call-Me-Mandy. ‘We know about the chat room.’
‘Nothing wrong with that,’ Dave said. ‘But your boss didn’t like it?’
‘It wasn’t . . .’ Becca was left floundering by her frustration. She’d come here to get help for Jared, and they were just mouthing on about the past, about the pictures. ‘What about Jared?’
‘Yes. let’s get back to Jared Godwin. Just help me out here, Becca. You drove from Bridlington to meet up with him.’
She didn’t know Jared’s name was Godwin. They must have looked him up as well. At least they were doing something. ‘Yeah.’
‘And you stopped off at Kay McKinnon’s. Why did you do that?’
‘Because I wanted to see her.’
‘OK. You maybe wanted to tell her about your job, is that right?’
‘I might have done. Yeah.’
‘Was she upset? She helped you get that job, didn’t she?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes she was upset or yes she got you the job?’
‘She helped me get the job. She wasn’t upset.’
‘Wasn’t she? We’ve found out she bent quite a few rules to get you
in there, Becca. My problem here is I think she would have been upset. I mean, first off, you give up your college course, and then you get sacked from the job she helped you with – my mum would go mental. Or didn’t she care?’
‘She . . . Yeah, she minded, but she didn’t . . . we didn’t . . . It wasn’t, like, a row, we just, you know . . .’
‘Had a bit of a disagreement. I understand Becca. Here. I’d like you to look at this.’ Dave showed her a small tablet he was holding. She looked at the screen, not really seeing it at first. And then it resolved into recognisable images. There were photos of her from her Bexgirl chat room, some of the images she used to sell after camming sessions. For the first time, looking at them with Dave and Call-Me-Mandy, she felt grubby, tainted by their gaze on her.
Becca wanted to smash the tablet out of Dave’s hand, tell them both to close it down if they thought it was so . . . so . . . Call-Me-Mandy was looking at Becca as if she thought Becca was dirt. Well, no one would want to look at her pictures. They’d pay her to put her clothes back on.
‘Your friend, Mrs McKinnon, looked these up yesterday . . .’ Dave explained, and Becca felt her stomach lurch. Kay knew. Kay had seen this. ‘You had a bit of a row about it, didn’t you?’
‘It wasn’t that,’ Becca protested, and then saw the trap she’d stepped right into.
‘So you did have a row that evening?’
‘No. I just – I told her I’d lost my job.’
‘And left.’
‘Yes.’
‘And then you came back.’ Call-Me-Mandy. ‘With Jared Godwin.’
Now, too late, Becca could see where they were going. ‘We were driving back from Whitby. We went there . . .’
‘OK. You get run off the road and you think people are following you, so you go for a day out by the sea? Come on, Becca. How stupid do you think I am?’ Dave sounded genuinely angry.
Call-Me-Mandy leaned forward. They were both in her face. ‘Did you just mean to give her a fright? Get back at her for pissing you off earlier?’