A Cry in the Night (9 page)

Sam walked around, trying to recreate the scene. It felt, to both of them, a little bit fruitless. Zoe tried to help out.

‘So they come down … disappear … a bit later some of those teenagers come down looking to buy some drugs, and then Sarah appears and sees her son’s bike. After that we have a lot of shouting and running about.’

‘With the husband and Bud in tow,’ Sam added.

‘And for some reason, she then retells the story and tries to airbrush him out of it.’

‘Stupid of her.’

‘That’s people for you,’ she said. ‘And the local police didn’t pick it up. Hardly picked up anything at all, did they?’

But Sam wasn’t buying. She threw another stone and was pleased as it skimmed across the surface, further than before.

‘So the kids came down to score?’ she asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘From who? We need to find the dealer.’

‘They said there was no dealer,’ Sam said. ‘It was all a blowout.’

‘We should still find out who they get their gear from anyway – it could be important.’

‘You’re right. Good thinking.’

Sam dutifully wrote it down and Zoe felt pleased with herself.

‘Anyway, we all know that the witches did it,’ she added.

‘You got that too, did you?’

They laughed at the way that they were constantly mentioned; the way no one really believed a word, yet were unable to dismiss them entirely, like some form of voodoo. Sam told her the story he’d heard, having been collared by an old man outside the pub.

‘Apparently there were a bunch of them, six or so women who got drunk on mead or wasted on mushrooms or something. Anyway, they went mad, off their tits, and led a bunch of children into the woods. They lit a fire and then started to roast them, one by one, claiming they were pigs for a feast or something. Fortunately one of the kids got away and some guy called John Stern, who was a farrier or something, he came down and saved them all.’

‘What happened to the women?’

‘They drowned themselves.’

‘What?’

‘Story is the women went crazy, like lemmings jumping off a cliff or something. They stole a boat, rowed out to the middle and threw themselves in.’

Zoe looked out at the still water, which stretched out for miles ahead of her. Somewhere, deep down, the women’s bones rested at the bottom.

‘What a crock,’ she said. ‘You believe that shit?’

Zoe imagined the screams and the splashing. She pictured the ripples that would have reached the land, and she saw how the lake would have sucked them down and kept them there. Sam threw another stone and the water gobbled it up. He made a joke about olden days and the locals worshipping crows, but Zoe didn’t laugh.

‘What’s with you?’ he asked.

She sniffed. It was just a story. She waved the moment away and agreed to meet him later for a drink. She wasn’t angry with Sam – she couldn’t be, she loved him dearly – but she didn’t want to keep staring out at the lake, not after that. She walked back up the lane, past the small car park and towards the village. After a minute, she slowed: David was standing by a stile, hands in his pockets. His mood still seemed black, so she gave him a friendly ‘hello’ and kept on walking.

He caught up with her and walked beside her. ‘So, I got my clothes back,’ he said, after an eternity.

She just nodded and walked a little faster. David hurried along beside her.

‘Guess you’ll tell me I deserve it,’ he added.

‘Why, what would you tell me?’

‘I guess I’d say you led me on.’

‘Gagging for it, was I?’

‘No, okay, fair enough, but, come on, I can take a joke as good as the next man …’

She gave him a look that said –
no you can’t
 – and instantly regretted it. Everything changed with that look. Oh, how men love to be flattered, she thought.

‘You were out of order,’ he said.

She shrugged and walked on.

‘You know what?’ he said. ‘I was going to say sorry, I was going to bloody apologise and see if we could start over, but you’re just so bloody stuck-up—’

He grabbed at her arm. Zoe spun around to face him, and her intensity made him step back.

She waited for him to say more, but he was still so wrought with hurt pride that she knew she was wasting her time.

‘You were the one who pushed your way into my room.’

‘You told me to come in.’

‘I didn’t tell you to take your bloody clothes off!’

‘You invited me in just so you could make a fool of me.’

These were the version of events that would stick. His words, his mates, his story.

‘Well then, I’m clearly a right cow and you should keep your distance.’

‘I will.’

‘Good. So fuck off then.’

She hadn’t meant it to come out like that. But something about his self-righteousness and the stories about the Lake Witches pushed the words out too forcefully. Maybe it was the fact that those two children were still missing and she was miles from home. Maybe it was the cold and creeping darkness.

He didn’t speak, so she just turned and marched on, annoyed with herself, her mind still spinning.

David didn’t move. When, eventually, he did, he was stiffer and slower. He headed straight for the pub.

Sam knocked at the Downings’ door a little later that day. He’d clocked the green plastic recycling box stacked with empty bottles of wine, and his hopes rose that Sarah’s boozing would keep her out of the way while he tackled Tim. However, he was disappointed to see a second car, a battered and scraped old red Audi, parked up in the drive. He made a note of the number plate and headed for the door, only for it to open, revealing Tim and another man heading outside. The man was shorter than Tim and dressed in a dull tracksuit and greying trainers. His thinning hair was cut short and Sam could see the edges of tattoos creeping out from under his sleeves. He stopped when he saw Sam, looked him up and down as a boxer might his opponent, then turned back to Tim, speaking quietly.

‘Hello,’ Sam said loudly.

A little embarrassed, Tim introduced the man to him as Sarah’s brother, Jed. Jed shook Sam’s hand with a shake so
limp it felt as though he was scared of catching something from the contact.

‘She’s sleeping,’ Jed sniffed. ‘Popped by to check on her, like. But she’s out of it.’

Tim took in a deep breath, but didn’t say anything.

‘Poor girl,’ Jed continued. His accent was local, and Sam realised that he heard the same burr in Sarah’s words, although her accent had been smoothed out. Jed was the life she’d left behind.

‘It’s a common reaction. A way to cope,’ Sam said, as though he were just another onlooker, sharing bland, useless observations. Jed nodded in agreement.

‘Do you mind if I ask where you were on the day that Arthur and Lily went missing?’

‘That didn’t take long did it?’ Jed said.

Tim stared at his feet, embarrassed. Sam tried to imagine them sat across the kitchen table – they clearly had nothing in common beyond Sarah.

‘I was in London,’ Jed said. ‘In a bloody custody cell. Told the last lot this. I bet you already knew it anyway, didn’t you? Jesus.’

He turned to Tim and muttered words of reassurance, that he was sure the kids would be alive, that he’d pop by again. Tim nodded, and then there was a terrible moment when neither man knew how to get away. Jed went to hug him while Tim stuck out a hand. An awkward handshake-cum-embrace
followed before Jed got into his car, glared once more at Sam, and reversed the car out of the drive.

‘So that was Jed,’ Tim said apologetically.

‘My brother-in-law’s an arsehole, if it helps,’ Sam replied.

Tim nodded. ‘Jed’s alright, I suppose. Heart in the right place.’

At Sam’s suggestion, they walked away from the house. Crossing the road, Tim pointed to a small footpath that led to the lake, heading through the wood. It took about thirty seconds before they were fully enveloped by trees.

‘It’s beautiful round here,’ said Sam.

Tim grunted and nodded. He trudged forward with his hands stuffed in his blue parka jacket, staring down at his boots. After a while he sighed. ‘I used to take the kids down here every Saturday. Sarah would have a lie-in and we’d come down, rain or shine. They’d run ahead and jump out at me from behind the trees.’

He stopped speaking and they walked on in silence. Somewhere nearby, a woodpecker’s drill rapped out. Sam was pleased to hear it, but his focus was on the man next to him.

‘It’s too late, isn’t it?’ Tim said. ‘For Arthur and Lily. You should have found them by now. Otherwise …’

‘No cases are ever the same,’ Sam said in reply.

Tim nodded, but he couldn’t meet his eye. ‘Jed says he’s
sure they’ll be fine. Bangs on about it, trying to be optimistic, but …’

They’d stopped in the middle of a path that meandered gently through the woods, down to the lake. The trees were old; tall and thick, and the light was mottled. Occasionally a bird’s cry would break the silence, or the rustle of leaves as the wind picked up and then died. But beyond that, nothing. Tim seemed oblivious to its charms.

‘I wanted to keep you up to speed with our investigation,’ Sam lied. ‘We’ve done the routine visits, talked to neighbours and locals, and gone back over all of the evidence.’ He watched Tim carefully as he spoke. The man still didn’t meet his eye.

‘There have been some slight anomalies.’

Tim looked up at this.

‘But they might be nothing.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t want to waste your time, Mr Downing, not until we have a better sense of it all.’

‘So what is there to tell me then?’

Sam put a matey hand on his shoulder as he avoided answering.

‘You’re very well liked in the village, if that means anything.’

‘We are?’

‘You are, Mr Downing.’

Tim walked on, muttering something under his breath.

‘I’m sorry, sir?’

‘I said “fucking oiks”,’ Tim replied angrily. ‘They all hate her, don’t they?’

‘We’ve had some stories, certainly.’

‘Saying what?’

‘It’s just gossip, it won’t affect our investigation.’

‘Good. I tell you, that lot would love it if she’d done it. Bloody savages. Just because she’s not called Charlotte and doesn’t get stuck in at the village fete. Just because she says what she thinks. Just because I chose someone different, someone with an ounce of spark and life in her, everyone thinks I’ve been drugged.’

‘I didn’t realise she was so different from you,’ Sam said.

‘She’s not. Well, of course she is because her family have no money and I think there’s a criminal conviction or two somewhere along the line, but who cares? You saw Jed. Smokes too much dope, wouldn’t know a proper day’s work if it hit him, but he’s hardly a child abductor, is he? And me and Sarah, we’re happy together, we’re equals. Modern life, yeah? I bet you didn’t ask your wife for a family history before you got hitched.’

‘No, sir,’ Sam replied. Andrea swept in, twirling around in her wedding dress as they danced in the small church hall, the rain battering down relentlessly on the corrugated roof. Sam had pulled her close, she’d pulled him closer still and
they were both breathless, laughing, overwhelmed by how ridiculously, stupidly happy they were.

Sam turned his back on her, nodding towards the lake and following Tim along the path. Tim’s hands were out of his pockets now and he looked around him as he walked. Sam noted that his boots no longer kicked at the ground beneath them, so he mentioned the kids again, and the routine of their walk down to the lake. It seemed to loosen Tim a little more.

‘You should see it in the spring. Bluebells everywhere. A carpet of them all the way down to the lake. Magical.’

‘I bet.’

‘What else did they say about her?’ Tim asked, a little hurriedly.

Sam had been waiting for the question.

‘They think you were a better father to them than she was a mother.’

‘Bollocks.’

‘There were stories about fights between her and the kids.’

‘Says who? Fucking hell.’

‘It’s hearsay. It’s not important to us.’

‘So she has a temper. Who doesn’t?’

Sam kept walking. He made sure he didn’t look at Tim, tried to make it seem as though he hadn’t even registered the comment. A temper. Tim had to hurry to keep up with him. He put an arm out, pulled at Sam’s arm.

‘It’s bullshit, it’s impossible, she’d never, never, ever do anything like that. She’s trouble in loads of ways but she adored them. Please don’t listen to them.’

Trouble. Sam stored the word away and nodded politely.

‘Can I ask you about Bud?’ the policeman said.

He saw Tim stiffen and knew that he was tied into the lies too. Zoe had told him about how easily Bud was manipulated. Maybe Tim was cut from the same cloth.

‘What about him?’

‘He didn’t have a bad word to say about Sarah, don’t worry.’

‘No, she’s got him under her spell alright.’

Tim caught Sam’s quizzical look.

‘Oh, don’t listen to me. Been cooped up in that house for too long. It’s nice to stretch the legs. Get away from all those prying eyes in that shitty village.’

Sam looked around him. He could see the lake further down and the sparkling water, licking against the shoreline. It didn’t feel shitty to him.

‘What did Bud say?’

‘He said that he was the one who found the bike. He alerted you to your children’s disappearance.’

Tim just opened and closed his mouth, nodding uselessly.

‘And this is something that wasn’t in the original police report,’ Sam continued, watching Tim fidget. He then turned and walked on, waiting for Tim to catch up. He stopped at
the lake and took in its beauty and scale. It was easy to look distracted. He felt Tim standing by his shoulder.

‘Why did you try to hide Bud from us?’ Sam asked without turning to him.

‘I didn’t.’

‘It was your wife’s idea, then?’

‘She didn’t hurt our children. She couldn’t.’

The avoidance was telling.

‘Your children are missing and you’re playing games with the police, Mr Downing.’

‘I’m not. I swear. We want them back, of course we do, we’re desperate!’