Authors: Faith Mortimer
Immediately, Charlie began to cry. “Please don’t leave me. I’m scared he’ll find me,” he sobbed. Seeing his pinched thin face and scabbed lips, Diana felt she just wanted to scoop him up and run all the way to the village with him. But it was neither practical nor possible. It was just too far.
“I’m going to be just over by the wall. It won’t be for long. Look, if you peek through the leaves, you’ll see me. Okay?”
Eventually Charlie stopped crying. He clung to a branch while watching Diana walk back over the uncovered rocks to the road. Once there, she dialled Adam and instantly got a connection. She explained in as few words as possible where she and Charlie were and what she had found on Bolton’s property.
“Clare thinks that Philip Bolton is none other than Debbie’s old flame, the bookshop manager, James.”
“Well done. She could well be right. He seemed to be close to Debbie back then and knew the children.”
“They say that most murders are done by people who know the victims,” she added gloomily.”
“Eighty per cent,” he agreed. She could tell by his breathy voice that he was hurrying as he spoke, and she hoped he wasn’t far behind Wee Willy and Randy.
“And poor Roger. What’s become of him? He must have been pushed down the well. There’s a lot of water rushing through it. I…I just hope poor little Hannah—,” she couldn’t finish.
“Di, please stop torturing yourself. The local police inspector has a team down at the river, and so far they’ve found neither Roger nor Hannah. We don’t know for certain what’s happened. What made you look down there, anyway?”
“The coin. It was a strange two-pound coin lying on the top of the well wall. Because Roger collects coins, I thought it was his. It must have fallen out of his pocket. Are you nearly here?”
“Yes, not far now.”
“There’s something about Bolton that’s puzzling me, though.”
“What?”
“His binoculars. They’re not the type birdwatchers use because they’re too heavy. His are expensive Steiners.”
“Perhaps they’re just for show. He knew he had to have a pair to make his cover look good.”
“Yes, but these—ah, at last! Wee Willy and Randy have arrived. I’ll speak to you when you arrive.”
“Excellent. Now remember Di, stay aw—”
Diana never heard the end of Adam’s reply, as she hastily clicked her phone off and was waving like mad to attract the attention of two approaching hashers.
It didn’t take long for Diana to bring Wee Willy and Randy up to speed. With the realisation of what had happened, their looks of astonishment changed to horror and then finally to grim determination. Both were fathers, and the thought of anyone abducting their children or grandchildren was completely abhorrent.
Diana took them over to the tree where Charlie was hidden and speaking softly, she introduced him to them. At first, Charlie looked terrified at the sight of the two strange men, dressed up in jackets and woolly hats, but once Diana explained they were her friends, he became calmer, although still tearful.
“Hey, little fella, we’re not going to hurt you,” Randy said as they stood beneath the tree. “You just stay there until you feel you want to come down, and then I’ll help you.”
“There’s something I’ve not told you,” Diana confessed as she drew them a few feet away from Charlie’s hearing. “My friend, Clare, is still inside the house. Now, I’m sure Philip
Bolton doesn’t suspect that we know he kidnapped Charlie and Hannah, and because of that she’s probably safe for now. The only thing is, I told him I was going to try and get a signal for my mobile, and I’ve been gone at least ten minutes. I have to get back to her before he guesses she and I are up to something.”
Randy and Wee Willy looked aghast at her suggestion. “No. You can’t go back in there. Anything could happen. What would Steve say if you were hurt? I’d never forgive myself,” Randy said adamantly.
“Me neither,” agreed Wee Willy. “It’d be madness.”
Diana sighed. “Look guys. I am terrified of the man. I’ve seen evidence of what he’s capable of, but the two of us will be a better match than Clare on her own. I can’t leave her,” she finished, swallowing back the feeling of nausea which had risen in her throat.
“Your policeman friend would never allow it,” Wee Willy said shaking his head. “He’ll be here soon.”
Diana knew he was right. Adam would have had kittens if he learnt what she was planning.
“Honestly, I’ll be fine. Please stay here with Charlie. I’ll go back, and somehow I’ll get Clare out. I can always stand outside his door and not go in. He can hardly refuse to let her go, can he?”
While the two men looked at each other, Diana made a suggestion. “Can you get Charlie down from the tree, please? Although he’s wrapped up in my coat, he’s frozen. If he’ll let you, one of you could zip him up inside your own jacket, and he’ll be much warmer.”
“Good idea. We’ll certainly give that a whirl.” While Wee Willy and Randy went to help Charlie from the tree, Diana took advantage of their turned backs and sprinted back up the road to the house, making sure she kept to the clear ice-free patches on the tarmac. When she was near the property, she paused and looked back. Wee Willy and Randy were standing on the road, and by Willy’s agitated gestures, she guessed he was on the phone to Adam. He had to understand! She dreaded the idea of going back inside that loathsome house, and she would have given anything for this never to have happened. But Clare was her friend, and Diana felt responsible.
Like a sudden bolt of lightning, Diana had only just discovered that the real thing bothering her was that Clare truly believed Philip Bolton was Debbie’s old flame. Diana definitely thought otherwise. She didn’t know how it happened, but she felt sure she had proof. She had to warn Clare. She squared back her shoulders, ran a tongue over her dry lips and with her heart hammering against her ribs, walked towards the door. She would
never ever
let a friend down.
Chapter 33
Debbie stared at William in horror. She felt her face drain of blood, and she clutched the side of the table for support.
The hashers had found Hannah’s shoe on the river bank!
Did that mean she had fallen in the river? She shook her head to clear her thoughts. No! There was no way either child could have walked that far, and besides, the route wasn’t easy, especially in the snow. But what then? How could the shoe have got down there? Unless…someone had taken the children to the river. Debbie began to shake, and she fought to keep herself in control.
“Are they searching the valley? Where is Adam Lovell now?’ she asked in a low voice.
“The police have brought some extra men in and have it under control. Adam has left the river area, and he and the rest of the search parties are all on their way to meet up at the road.”
Debbie looked at William. “Which road?”
“Ours, they’re meeting somewhere between Roger’s and that birdwatcher’s house.”
Debbie only half listened to his words; she was trying hard not to think about what could have happened to Hannah and Charlie.
That birdwatcher’s house
…she had only ever seen him from a distance, but was there something vaguely familiar about him? She closed her eyes and thought back to when Clare had hypnotised her. She knew she had mentioned seeing someone…my goodness! In an instant of pure lucidity, Debbie saw the awful truth and realised it might be too late.
“Are you all right, darling?” William asked.
Debbie looked up at him. Her shaking had stopped as she understood what she had to do. “I need my gloves, and I’ve left them upstairs.”
“That’s okay. I’ll go and fetch them while you finish your tea. I won’t be a jiffy.”
As soon as he started up the stairs, Debbie grabbed her keys lying on the hall table and ran out the back door towards the cars standing under the trees. Within seconds, she was behind the wheel, and the car lurched down the drive. It was difficult to see through the windscreen because the snow and sleet had formed a thick ice crust on the glass, and the sun had never reached it that day. Debbie turned the heater up as high as it would go and opened her side window. She slowed the car down as she glanced outside and flicked the windscreen wipers on. Slowly the ice began to disappear, and she picked up speed in response. Within a couple of minutes, she began the drive up the steep incline. Once she hit the accelerator, the front wheels skidded, throwing the car round on the icy road. In panic, Debbie jammed on the brake, and the car spun right round. As she let out a frightened cry and tried to right it, she realised she was too late. A stone wall loomed ahead. She managed to turn the wheel, but the car’s momentum still carried it forward, and with a crash it hit the wall.
Debbie was thrown against the steering wheel and then snapped back. The air bag expanded, pinioning her to the seat. Shaken and bruised, she squeezed the bag to one side, opened her door and scrambled out onto snowy verge. She barely paused to take in the damage to the front of the car. Instead, she tried to run up the slippery hill towards the driveway. Debbie slipped and fell, falling down onto her right side. Ignoring the jarring pain in her hip, she ran towards the house. All the time she kept saying to herself, ‘
Please don’t let me be too late.’
She remembered back six years, when she identified the bodies of Sally and Stuart. Their faces were still covered in mud, ugly dark brown ligature marks around their necks from where they had been strangled with their scarves. Please, dear God, please!
She heard a shout in the distance but ignored it. Instead she carried on up the drive until she reached the grounds of the house. She hadn’t realised before how high the house stood on the hill. If
only
she had thought about it earlier. She could see her own house quite clearly; it was perfectly positioned for someone to watch her activities. Rounding the corner of a barn-like building, she stopped. The front door to the house stood ajar. Slowly she walked towards it and pushed it open a few more inches.
Pausing on the threshold, Debbie noted how gloomy the downstairs floor was. From her spot, she saw it was lit only by a weak light coming from the door that was ajar and through the slightly parted curtains. Her breath was coming in gasps which she fought to control. Her heart was pounding, and she felt light-headed. A smell like fatty rancid oil hit her…and something else. Charlie and Hannah had to be here. But what if she was too late? She would die if it was like last time. She could still see their little faces, bruised and bloated in death. She was all they had, they trusted her. She remembered Sally crying that last morning when she was feeling unwell. “Daddy hurt me,” she said. Claude had told Debbie that Sally had been naughty…he was always strict with them, and she blamed herself for feeling tired as usual. She didn’t dare criticise Claude’s discipline, but somehow believed Stuart when he told her Sally hadn’t misbehaved at all.
As she was about to enter, she heard a soft cry behind her and faltered. Half turning, she saw Diana racing towards her.
*****
“Wait! Debbie, don’t go in there,” she wheezed.
“I must…Charlie and Hannah…”
“Charlie’s safe! I found him, and he’s with the others, my friends. He’s
okay
, Debbie.”
Debbie swayed at her words. “Charlie’s safe? And…Hannah? What about Hannah?” she whispered.
Having reached her, Diana placed a hand on her arm. “I don’t know. If she’s…if she’s alive, I think she’s here somewhere. Charlie said Philip Bolton separated them.”
“Bolton! That’s not his real name, the bastard. If he’s hurt my children, like he did last time, I swear I’ll kill him myself.”
“I know it’s not. But Debbie, we’ve got to go carefully. He’s so dangerous and Clare is inside. I don’t want to jeopardise her life too. Why not wait for Adam Lovell to arrive? He’ll be here any minute with reinforcements.”
Debbie’s face was full of agony as she listened to Diana’s words. “I can’t. Last time I made a dreadful mistake trusting someone, and I can’t let that happen again. I’m going in.”
“Then I’m coming with you.” Diana reached down towards the pile of logs lying by the door and selected a hefty one. “Armed and dangerous, I’m right behind you,” she said giving her a reassuring smile, even if she felt anything but. Her heart was thumping so hard in her chest, she thought Debbie could hear it. She fought against the feeling of dread, pushing aside the rising nausea. Never had she been so terrified.
Both women took deep breaths, and Debbie pushed the door wide open. At first they could see no one in the dismal room, and then as Diana pushed past Debbie, she gave a gasp. Clare was in the same position as when Diana had left her, only this time she was tied and gagged. After taking a quick look round the room to ensure Bolton wasn’t about to leap out on them, Diana rushed over to her. Clare was slumped over on one side, her head slick with blood.
“Oh no, Clare!” Diana felt sick inside with despair, praying that Clare wasn’t dead. She should never have left her alone with this sick bastard.
She ripped the tape from around her mouth to give her air and then reached for her wrist. She was rewarded by a weak, thready pulse.
“Is she…is she alive?” Debbie asked in a hushed voice.
Diana nodded. “Just. I can feel a faint pulse.” She gently pressed on Clare’s chest to try and rouse her before untying her wrists. “Clare. Clare can you hear me?” As she did so, she noticed a wad of cotton wool lying just under her jacket. Diana pulled it out and sniffed it. A sweet sickly smell wafted under her nose. Chloroform! It reminded her of her grandmother’s house when she used to get out the Thawpit jar to clean her grandfather’s jackets. Diana immediately leapt away from Clare and opened the door wide to let in more fresh air.