Authors: Michael Robotham
Climbing out of the crevice, I peer over the top of the rocks, studying the path. I can’t see George. Can’t hear him. The trees are like charcoal drawings above me.
I pick up the coat and brush off the leaves, putting my arms through the sleeves. It’s too long for me. I fold up the sleeves and put my hands deep in the pockets. It smells of George.
My fingers touch his mobile phone. I’m so surprised that I almost drop it. Two hands. I turn it over. Look for the power button. The screen lights up and welcomes me with music. There are no bars of signal. If I get higher, I might pick up a phone mast.
Scrambling up the embankment, I keep tripping over the hem of the coat. I have to hike it up and hold it under my arms, which makes it hard to climb because I can’t hold onto the trees.
When I reach the path, I crouch behind a rock, peering both ways. I can’t see him. I don’t want to go back the way I’ve come, so I keep following the path, away from the factory, looking for a road or a house or a car.
It’s raining and misty, but I can make out a trail that snakes between the trees. I’m climbing. That’s good. Maybe I’ll get a signal from higher ground.
Every few minutes, I stop and look at the phone, checking the signal. One bar blinks for a moment and then disappears. I wait. It flashes again. I scramble onto a rock and hold the phone above my head. A second bar of signal appears alongside the first. Wider. Stronger.
I dial 999. An operator answers.
“Hello, what service do you require, police, fire or ambulance?”
“Police. I need help.”
“Can I have your name please?”
“I’m Piper. He’s chasing me, please hurry.”
“Hold the line.”
A different voice answers this time. A woman.
“You’re through to the police. Can I have your name please?”
“I need you to come and get me. He’s going to kill me.”
“Please, tell me your name?”
“Piper Hadley.”
“Has there been an accident, Piper?”
“No. He’s coming, please help.”
“Who is coming?”
“I don’t know his name. This is his phone.”
“Where are you, Piper?”
“In a forest.”
“Whereabouts?”
“I don’t know.”
“So you’ve just wandered into nowhere?”
“I was kidnapped. I’ve managed to get away. You have to come quickly. He’s got Tash. I know he’ll punish her.”
“Who is Tash?”
“She’s my friend. We were kidnapped together.”
“What’s your friend’s name?”
“Natasha McBain.”
“You’re breaking up, Piper. Can you please repeat the name?”
“I said Natasha McBain.”
“Is this a hoax call?”
“What?”
“Do you know the penalty for making false emergency calls?”
“It’s not a hoax! It’s not!”
“There’s no need to yell, Piper. If you become abusive, I will terminate the call.”
“I’m not being abusive. I’m telling you the truth.”
“I’m going to need a better location. I need a street or a cross-street.”
“There are no streets.”
“I didn’t catch the name of the street.”
“There are none. I’m in a forest.”
“Where is the forest?”
“I don’t know.”
“The nearest road?”
“I don’t know.”
I feel myself beginning to cry. She doesn’t believe me. They’re not going to come. She tells me to hold. She’s getting her supervisor. Another woman comes on the line.
“OK, love, my name is Samantha, what’s yours?”
“Piper Hadley.”
“Where do you live, Piper?”
“I come from Bingham. It’s near Abingdon. Priory Corner. It’s called The Old Vicarage.”
“Listen, Piper, don’t get upset. Stay calm. We’re trying to trace the call. Do you know the name of the nearest town?”
“No.”
“What about the county?”
“No.”
“OK, don’t worry. We’ll find you.”
“Hurry.”
“I will.”
“It’s getting dark and I’m cold.”
“Can you go somewhere warm?”
“I don’t know where I am.”
“Can you see any lights?”
“No.”
“Can you call out?”
“I can only whisper. I don’t want him to hear me.”
“Who will hear you?”
“The man who took me.”
“Who’s that?”
“I don’t know his real name. Please help me.”
“Don’t cry, Piper.”
“I can’t help it.”
“You’re doing really well, Piper. I can see that you’re in Oxfordshire. I’m going to call the nearest police station. I just need you to stay on the line.”
T
here’s an envelope being held for me at the hotel. I ask the receptionist to prepare my bill and I head towards the lift. That’s when I notice Ruiz sitting in the Morse Bar, reading a paper and nursing a pint glass of water.
“Where were you last night?” I ask.
“I caught up with Tom Fryer and some of his old rugby mates.”
“How big is the hangover?”
He points to the water. “I’ve had two bacon rolls, three cups of coffee and a liter of Diet Coke and I haven’t peed once.”
“Congratulations.”
Ruiz has already checked out of his room. He follows me upstairs and sits in the corner as I pack. I’m shoving dirty clothes into a holdall and collecting my toiletries. He notices the envelope and holds it up to the light.
“You should open it,” he says. “It’s from Victoria Naparstek.”
“How do you know?”
“I’m psychic.”
“You saw her deliver it.”
“That too.”
Opening the envelope, I slip the card free and read the short message:
I’d like to see you again. Give me a call some time… if you want to.
She’s given me her mobile phone number. I put the card in my pocket and crumple the envelope into a ball. Continuing to pack, I tell Ruiz about the arrests and interrogations, as well as Dr. Leece’s revelations about the tritium in Natasha’s urine.
“So you figure she might have been kept somewhere near this research center.”
“It’s feasible.”
“And one of the guys who assaulted her is probably the kidnapper?”
“Most likely.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I’m not.”
“You don’t think they match the psychological profile. Maybe you got it wrong.”
“Maybe.”
I look at my watch. It’s just gone three o’clock. Four of the men will have posted bail by now. They’ll be home for Christmas. Drury won’t have surveillance teams working over the holidays. If one of these men is the kidnapper, he’ll have time to dispose of Piper and destroy the evidence.
Ruiz fills a glass of water from the bathroom and sips it thoughtfully, contemplating the same possibility.
“Capable Jones got back to me,” he says. “You still interested in Phillip Martinez?”
“It can wait.”
Downstairs, I hand my credit card to the receptionist, who hopes I had a pleasant stay. The printer warms up and produces my itemized bill. I glance at the total and hope the chief constable is a man of his word.
Ruiz spreads his arms. “So I guess this is it, amigo.”
We hug. It’s like being squeezed by a bear.
Over Ruiz’s shoulder I see Dale Hadley stumble from the revolving door as though spat out by a dispensing machine. Dressed in baggy trousers and a shapeless shirt, he looks disorientated and hollowed out.
His eyes meet mine. “We have to talk.”
“I’m about to leave.”
Grabbing my arm, he pulls me away, looking for somewhere quiet. Checking doors. He finds an empty lounge.
“I know,” he says, squeezing his hands into fists.
“Pardon?”
“I know what she’s been doing.”
“Piper?”
“No! Sarah. I know she’s been sleeping with Victor McBain. She confessed. She said you knew. How?”
“I guessed.”
He can’t look at my face, cannot speak. He’s not a big man, but he looks diminished. Wounded. It’s like walking past a cage at a zoo and seeing a decrepit lion or tiger that has been imprisoned for too long.
“My father warned me about Sarah. He said that when you marry a beautiful woman, you have to live with the possibility that other men will try to take her away. Do not covet thy neighbor’s wife. Don’t fuck her.”
He’s taken a seat on a Chesterfield sofa.
“I gave her everything. I bought her the big house, a nice car. Jewelry. Dresses. I’ve never been unfaithful. Never even thought about it.”
“You should go home, Mr. Hadley.”
He doesn’t seem to be listening. “Things used to be all right before Piper went missing, but after that everything changed. Losing Piper crippled Sarah emotionally. She changed. We hardly touch each other. It’s been months…”
I don’t need to know this. I don’t
want
to know this.
“I gave her time. Space. I supported her.”
“You did the right thing.”
“Really? Do you think so?”
“Yes.”
“Why did she sleep with Vic McBain? He’s uneducated, uncouth, foul-mouthed…”
Because he’s not you, I want to say, but I don’t. When Sarah Hadley looks at Vic McBain, she doesn’t have to soak up anyone else’s pain. She can deal with her own grief, without having to share someone else’s. She can look into someone else’s eyes and feel something other than pain and loss.
I don’t say any of these things because his mobile is ringing. He doesn’t recognize the number. He’s about to cut off the call, but changes his mind.
“Hello?”
…
“Who is this?”
…
“I’m sorry, I can’t hear… can you say that again?”
…
“Piper? Oh my God! Piper!”
…
“We’ve been so worried. We’ve looked everywhere. We didn’t stop looking. I can’t believe it, sweetheart. Where are you?”
…
“Wait. I’m going to put you on speakerphone.”
“Daddy?”
“I’m here.”
“You have to come and get me.”
“I will. Tell me where you are?”
“I don’t know. But he’s after me.”
“Who?”
“The man who owns this phone. I don’t know his name, but he’s looking for me. I called the police, but they wanted me to give them a street or a house number and I told them I don’t know where I am. He has Tash, Daddy. He caught her when she tried to run away. You have to help us.”
“You’re breaking up, Piper. Try to stand still.”
C
an you hear me now?”
“Yes.”
“Are you crying, Daddy?”
“I’m just really happy.”
“So am I. It’s so good to hear your voice.”
“Yours too.”
“I didn’t run away, Daddy. We talked about doing it, but we didn’t get a chance. A man took us. Can you tell Mum? I don’t want her thinking that I don’t love her. And tell Phoebe and Ben and my little sister. What’s her name?”
“Jessica.”
“That’s pretty.”
“What did you tell the police?”
“Just what I told you. Tash escaped but he caught her again. I couldn’t find her and I’m scared he’s going to do something to her if I don’t go back.”
“Don’t worry about Tash. Tell me where you are.”
“I don’t know.”
“We’re going to find you, baby. They’ll trace the call.”
“He’s still looking for me. I have to hide.”
“Can you wait a second, sweetheart?”
“Don’t go away.”
“I won’t.”
I can hear him having a conversation. Someone is talking about calling the police.