Father Unknown (11 page)

As she spoke, the house phone rang. Suzie sprang to answer it. The familiar voice came, it seemed, from a lifetime away. Could it really only have been yesterday that they were showing Prudence Clayson round the peaceful English village of Corley? There was something comforting about the warm Pennsylvanian accent.

‘Gee! I'm having the greatest time. You folks over here are so kind. This guy I'm staying with seems to know just about everything there is to know about the English Claysons. Apparently, there's only a small pocket of them in your neck of the woods. But he told me something else. It might be really important . . . No, I think I'll hang on to that till I see you. But I guess we might get that computer of yours working again.'

Suzie let the gush of words wash over her. She was still too stunned by Millie's conviction to think clearly. Certainly not about anything as removed from it as family history.

It didn't matter. Prudence's enthusiasm swept on. ‘And tomorrow, they're taking me to see Stratford-upon-Avon. Would you believe, one of his Claysons actually went to the same grammar school as William Shakespeare? He says I really couldn't be this close and not go see it. I'm so excited. Shakespeare was such a big thing for me at high school. I was Rosalind in
As You Like It.
Can you imagine that?'

Suzie murmured polite responses, hardly knowing what she said.

‘Well, I'll see you guys in a couple of days, then. God bless.'

The phone went silent. Suzie tried to reorder her thoughts. ‘That was Prudence. She seems to be having a great time.'

‘I'm glad somebody is,' Millie retorted.

It was nearly six before Tom swung his bike into the drive and breezed into the house. Once again, Suzie felt the shock of altered perception. The world seemed suddenly sunnier for having her tall, energetic son back home. His arms crushed her in an enthusiastic hug. He ruffled her hair and threw himself on to a kitchen chair with dangerous abandon.

But the sparkle in his eyes cooled. ‘No luck, I'm afraid. I must have cycled half round the city, catching up with guys. Dropped the odd question about Tamara. Got the answer you'd expect. A couple of them knew she'd been out of school last week. Most of them looked blank. Sorry, Millie,' he added as he saw her standing in the doorway of the conservatory, listening avidly. ‘She doesn't seem to have scored with the sixth form. There was a bit of a word about Justin Soames in Year Eleven being keen on her, but nothing definite. Of course . . .' He grinned ruefully up at Suzie. ‘They all think I've got the hots for her now. I tried to make it sound casual, but I guess they were bound to wonder why I was asking about her, my first day back.'

‘Just as long as nobody thinks
you're
the reason she's disappeared.' Nick's voice came from the sofa behind Millie.

‘Hey, leave me out of this. It's the big, bad Dawson she's running away from, isn't it?'

‘But the kid's father could be someone else,' Nick warned. ‘We don't have to believe the worst.'

‘We don't know she
has
run,' Millie said. ‘What if she hasn't? Mum and Dad don't want me to go to the police. But if Tamara's dead, the sooner someone starts looking for evidence, the better.'

THIRTEEN

S
uzie twisted restlessly in the hot summer night. Could Tamara really be dead? By daylight, it was easy to dismiss Millie's wilder imaginings. She was at that age when the most ordinary event could become a melodrama. But lying in the dark, with Nick heavily asleep, it was not so easy to shake off the idea. Millie and Tamara were such close friends. In vain she puzzled to think of some explanation for Tamara going off without telling Millie, and still not getting in touch.

Yet was it really possible to think that Leonard Dawson had killed her?

In the hot darkness she saw him looming over her, as he had at the country club. The fleshy bulk of him. The face reddened with exertion and rage. Those small, glaring eyes. Even now, her throat constricted as she saw the metal-framed racquet swing above his head. For an awful second, she had thought he was about to bring it smashing down on Nick.

She sat up, pushing her side of the bedclothes back. It hadn't happened. Whatever the anger he had felt, he had made himself behave like a member of the civilized establishment.

They had been in a public place. Mr Dawson was a member of the management committee. He had a reputation to uphold.

But in private?

She recalled the bruise on Lisa Dawson's temple, only half-hidden by her fringe. So dark red, it was almost black. Ugly. The evidence of an uglier scene.

She wished Nick was awake, so that she could talk to him. He was better at pouring common sense on Millie's ideas. But he slumbered on.

She padded downstairs and took a glass of cold milk through to the conservatory. She rested her hot forehead against the window pane.

Nick would have designed a better house than this. Summer heat rose to the bedrooms and beat down through the tiles. It was cooler down here. She felt less feverish now.

But the black thoughts would not go away. It was not melodrama now, but cold reality that told her such things were possible. A violent man could strike one blow too many. She pictured Tamara going down before him. Not rising. A trickle of blood on her white face. And the head of one of the most respected schools in the city knowing he had committed murder.

She almost felt compassion for him as she imagined his panic. This could not have happened to him. It must not have happened. He had to do something, fast. Wipe out the evidence. Get rid of Tamara. Permanently. Bury the body where no one would find it. Concoct a story about her moving away. A temporary arrangement at first, not to arouse suspicion. Lengthening into permanency.

At what stage had Lisa known? Had she witnessed it? Had he told her later? Got her to help dispose of the body, so that she was an accessory? Or had she only guessed?

She must know, mustn't she?

Suzie struggled to imagine how she herself could ever have kept silent if someone had committed such a crime against Millie. She would want to scream it to the sky. But then, she was not the cowed and frightened person Tamara's mother had become.

She seized on a sudden shred of hope. Lisa had told them Tamara had run away. That she had as good as said goodbye. Millie had doubted it, but what if it was true after all?

But Tamara had said nothing to Millie. Her best friend.

Her hopes fell. She swallowed the milk and felt its chill course through her body.

Lisa had
wanted
to believe that. Because the alternative she feared was too unbearable to live with.

She hadn't reported Tamara missing. No one had gone to the police. The school must have been given a plausible reason for Tamara's absence. Millie was right. A headmaster would know what to say.

There was only one person who could not be so easily satisfied.

Millie. Like a piece of grit in a shoe.

Millie, who had bombarded Tamara's phone with unanswered messages.

Millie, who was not going to stop asking awkward questions.

Millie was the obstacle which stood between Leonard Dawson and the successful silencing of what he had done.

And now the image of that furious bull of a man came rushing back. This was how it happened, wasn't it? The first murder, almost an accident. But then the next, made inevitable to cover up the first. Anything to stop Millie going to the police.

She wrenched herself away from the window, suddenly cold.

They
had
to tell the police now. It was not just Tamara they should be afraid for. As long as only they knew, Millie wasn't safe. They had to act before Leonard Dawson decided that Millie's insistent questions had to be silenced.

She crept back to bed, shivering. Even the duvet wasn't enough to warm her.

Rational doubt returned with daylight. When Suzie came back from the bathroom, she sat brushing her hair. She felt oddly ashamed of raising the subject. Nick had his back to her, dressing.

‘You know, I think Millie may be right. We ought to tell the police. Even though we're not her family.'

Nick stopped, in the act of hoisting his trousers. ‘Tell them what? That Tamara's gone away, but her parents don't seem to have noticed there's a problem? Don't you think I've made enough of a fool of myself at the country club yesterday?'

‘Lisa knows Tamara's not away on sick leave. She thinks she's run away. Or she says she does.'

Nick's face sobered as he fastened his belt. ‘Whatever Lisa Dawson believes or doesn't believe, she's not going to stand up in court and say it, is she? She's too scared.'

‘So you
do
think there's something which could end up in court?'

He kissed her head. ‘Let's say, I don't think Leonard Dawson is the pillar of rectitude he'd like the town to believe.'

‘Nick! It came to me in the middle of the night. If something has happened to Tamara . . . If he lost his temper and hit her . . . too hard. Then he's doing a pretty good job of covering up. Presently, we'll hear that Tamara has moved to another school. A boarding school, even an international one. No one will ask any questions. Except Millie.'

Nick's silence was expectant. Clearly, the wires of his mind had not connected with the same explosive force which she had experienced. Putting it into words was bringing it back to her.

‘So?'

She swung away from the mirror to face him. ‘So don't you see? Millie is in danger, too. She has to tell the police before he . . . shuts her up too.'

She saw the storm of emotions pass over Nick's face. Shock, incredulity, the desperate struggle to hold on to normality.

‘Steady on, love! It's one thing to guess he might have lost control and killed Tamara. That's pretty far out in itself. It's far more likely she was scared of what he would do to her when he found out she was pregnant, and ran away. But even supposing he did, that would be manslaughter. To deliberately go after Millie . . . You're talking about murder.'

‘You've seen what he's like. He came within a millimetre of hitting you with his racquet, because you interfered. He'd have done you serious damage. Tom says he terrorizes the kids at Briars Hill. If he thought that only a fourteen-year-old girl was standing between him and freedom, respectability . . . He'll know he'll go to prison if she doesn't keep quiet . . . Is it really so fanciful to think he'd silence her too? Nick, it's our keeping quiet which is putting Millie in danger. Once she's told the police, it'll be too late for him to do anything to her.'

Nick was thinking, frantically. ‘But . . . If this whole idea weren't totally ridiculous . . . If, for the sake of argument, he did . . . silence Millie, there'd still be us.
We've
been asking questions about Tamara. Remember? And I'd sure as hell go after him if anything happened to Millie.'

‘Anything we say is second-hand. It all comes down to her. The evidence about Tamara being pregnant. She's probably the only one who knew. The absence of a credible boyfriend. Tamara's fear of her stepfather. How she didn't want to have an abortion. From us, it's just hearsay. Millie's the key witness.'

Nick checked himself in the mirror. Short sleeves, because of the heat already building. Cool, but smart. But behind the appraising glance, his mind was working fast. ‘OK, then. I've got a couple of meetings with clients today. Suppose we pick Millie up after school and take her to the police HQ?'

Suzie felt alarms beginning to sound. The long day stretched in front of them. Another day of silence, until late afternoon. Another day when Millie would not have told anyone else what she knew.

She'd be safe at school, wouldn't she? Mr Dawson would be at Briars Hill. They'd be waiting for her in the car at the school gate.

‘All right,' she said reluctantly. ‘Pick me up here first. About half past three?'

FOURTEEN

T
he Monday morning breakfast table had a purposeful feel. Nick and Suzie were dressed for work. Only Tom, A-levels over, had the luxury of lingering in bed.

Millie came into the kitchen. Since her new haircut, she seemed to carry herself taller, and she wore her school uniform with a more businesslike air. Suzie felt an unexpected nostalgia for the sloppily-fastened tie, the world-weary, mid-teen slouch she had grown used to. Millie looked almost grown-up.

She gave her daughter an encouraging smile. ‘Your father and I have decided you're right. We ought to tell the police.'

There was a stab of guilt when she saw the smile of joy and relief that flooded Millie's face. They should have done this sooner.

‘You're a star, Mum! Thanks, Dad!' She hugged them both.

‘We'll pick you up after school, if that's all right,' Nick said.

Millie's face fell. ‘What's wrong with this morning?'

‘Dad has people to see. She's been gone since Wednesday. A few hours more won't really make any difference.'

‘And some rich guy who wants Dad to design him an office is more important than Tamara? She may be
dead
! Don't you have any sense of priorities?' Millie flung herself into a chair.

Nick and Suzie knew better than to reason with her.

They ate in a silence that was resentful on Millie's part. Nick and Suzie were not hurrying, but aware of the clock.

Unexpectedly, they heard Tom's bounding step on the stairs. Suzie realized how much she had missed it in the days he had been away.

‘I should have thought he'd have stayed in bed till lunchtime,' Millie muttered. ‘I would.'