The Missing: The gripping psychological thriller that’s got everyone talking... (26 page)

The light bulb above our head flickers and buzzes as Mark, Jake and I continue to talk. It is dark outside, a sliver of black beneath the garage door where just an hour ago there was daylight.

‘Where’s the knife now?’ Mark asks.

‘In a tote bag, underneath the passenger seat in my car.’

‘What are you going to do with it?’ Jake asks.

None of us has moved in over an hour and a half. Mark and I are still sitting side by side on the weights bench. Jake is sitting on the floor. The laptop separates us. ‘If you want to take it to the police I’ll understand. You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do.’

Jake looks deflated, as though every last drop of anger has been wrung out of him. Mark looks old. Tired and old. He hasn’t raised his voice once since Jake started crying. It is as though his son’s tears have disarmed him.

And me? I feel calmer than I have in a long time. Calm and empty. I’ve got answers but they aren’t the ones I was hoping for. I thought they’d lead me to Billy but he’s still as far away as he’s ever been.

‘What do you want to do?’ Mark asks and I shake my head.

‘I don’t know. If this Graham person presses charges against Jake then we need to keep the knife, the laptop and the messages on Jake’s phone. He’ll need them to form his defence.’

‘But the knife’s probably got my blood on it too,’ Jake says. ‘My hands were pretty fucked up when I got home.’

‘But I would have noticed if you’d hurt them …’ I say and then stop. When I got home he was wearing a jumper that covered his hands and then he’d tucked them under his armpits when I went into his room. And then he’d punched the wall. Did he deliberately do that so I wouldn’t question his torn knuckles or was he genuinely upset about Billy?

‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ he says again. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’

Mark runs a hand over his jaw. His stubble makes a
scritch-scritch-scritch
sound against his palm. ‘It’s still a weapon. It could look like intent to kill.

‘The chances are he won’t press charges,’ Mark continues. ‘It’s been, what, a few days since it happened? He knows Jake has copies of the emails and messages. It would be a hell of a risk on his part.’

What do we do? Tell the police or keep it to ourselves? Mark said no more secrets but at what cost? If DS Forbes finds out what happened Jake could go to jail and all because he couldn’t deal with his own guilt about Billy’s disappearance. Is that fair? The man he punched had hurt children, or was planning to hurt a child. Should my son be the one punished for that?

There’s a tapping sound on the door and a soft voice drifts into the garage.

‘Hello? Jake? Are you in there? Can I come in?’

Jake jumps to his feet as a pair of hands appears at the bottom of the door and Kira lifts it above her head.

‘Oh!’ She looks in surprise from her boyfriend to Mark and me. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realize—’

‘It’s okay.’ Jake wraps an arm around her shoulder and pulls her in to him. ‘We were just …’

‘Having a chat,’ I say. ‘It’s okay. You two go in. It’s cold out here. We’ll be in in a second.’

My son looks unsure but I wave him away. ‘I’ll come and say goodbye before I go back to Gran’s.’

Jake’s lips part but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he angles Kira out to the driveway and back towards the house.

‘Do you think he’ll tell her?’ Mark asks when they’re out of earshot.

‘No, their relationship’s not stable enough to take something like that.’

‘She’s more resilient than you think.’

‘In what way?’

‘She’s had a tough life. Her mum beat her up. Her dad killed himself.’

‘I didn’t know you knew about him.’

He shrugs. ‘She told me after my dad’s heart attack. I assumed you knew.’

He looks so different in the half-light of the garage. His hair looks thinner, his eyes darker and more beady, and there are lines that stretch from his nose to the edges of his mouth. I thought I knew every inch of my husband after twenty years but there’s still so much of him that is a mystery to me.

‘Mark,’ I say. ‘How many more lies are there?’

He shakes his head. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘When were you going to tell me the real reason you didn’t get into the police?’

‘Oh God.’ He slumps forward. ‘Who told you?’

‘It doesn’t matter who told me. Is it true? Are you a sex offender?’

‘No!’ His eyes search mine, then he looks away. ‘Technically, yes. But not like you’re thinking. I didn’t hurt anyone. I didn’t force myself on someone. I was sixteen. I was going out with a girl in the year below. She was fifteen. Her mum was a religious nut job and when she found out she reported me to the police. And yes, I was cautioned. I didn’t disclose it when I applied to the force and they found out. Of course they bloody found out. They terminated my application. I couldn’t tell you that. You would have left me.’

‘What else have you lied about, Mark?’

‘Nothing. I swear.’

I sit in the gloom beside him, a hundred thoughts running through my head, and force myself to stand up. ‘I should go and see Jake and say goodbye.’

‘You’re going back to your mum’s then?’

‘Yes. I think that’s for the best, don’t you?’

‘Because of Jake?’ he asks softly. ‘Or because of me?’

‘A bit of both.’

He doesn’t say a word as I cross the garage but I can feel his eyes boring into my back. The weight of sadness in the air is more than I can bear.

When I turn back round Mark has his head in his hands.

‘I need to talk to her,’ I say. ‘To Edie Christian. You understand why, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’ He nods. ‘Yes, I do.’

Are you sure this is a good idea?

Yes, Mark knows. I told him.

Do you believe him?

I unwind the car window and reread Liz’s text. Do I believe that nothing happened between my husband and Edie Christian?

My heart says yes, my head says I need to be sure.

That’s fair enough. I’m here if you need to talk afterwards. You know that, don’t you?

I do. Thanks, Liz. Xx

‘Mrs Wilkinson!’ Edie Christian raises a hand and waves. Her long blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail and she’s wearing a red flowery dress with black leggings and sensible shoes. Her lanyard swings from left to right as she bounces across reception towards me.

‘Miss Christian.’ I shake her outstretched hand and force a smile, aware that the receptionist is watching.

‘I’ve booked a private meeting room,’ she says as she ushers me down a corridor. ‘A lot of the year heads are in the office today and I know you wanted a private chat.’

I know her office well. I felt as though I spent half my life there last year, discussing Billy’s various ‘issues’. I’d mentally prepared myself for our chat to take place there and I’m thrown by her suggestion that we talk in private.

She opens the door to a small beige room, and gestures at the desk and six chairs in the centre. Does she know what I’m about to ask her? Is that why she wants me out of earshot of the other staff?

‘Take a seat. Would you like a tea or coffee? Some water?’

She radiates a happy, enthusiastic energy but there’s something strained about the smile that’s been fixed to her face since she spotted me in reception.

‘I’m fine. Thank you.’ I take the chair nearest the door.

‘How are you?’ she asks, leaning towards me, all bright enthusiasm and curiosity. ‘Is there any news about Billy? Anything I, or the school, could do to help?’

I shift in my chair, cross my ankles, then uncross them again. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Two days have passed since my conversation with Mark. Forty-eight torturous hours of going back and forward in my mind about whether or not this is a good idea.

‘Miss Christian.’

‘Yes.’

‘Have you been having an affair with my husband?’

She recoils, her chair creaking as she sits back. Her right hand flies to her chest. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘My husband. Mark Wilkinson. Have you been having an affair with him?’

‘No.’ Her hand drifts from her chest to her throat. ‘God, no.’

‘But you’ve kissed?’

‘What? No.’ She glances towards the window in the top of the closed office door as a student walks past. ‘Whatever gave you that— Oh.’ Her expression morphs from horror to understanding. ‘This is about what happened last year, isn’t it?’

I nod. ‘My brother-in-law told me that Billy saw you kissing. He put a brick through Mark’s car window.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

She sits forward in her chair again, her professional demeanour regained. ‘Mrs Wilkinson. I’m not sure what your brother-in-law told you but I think he might have got the wrong end of the stick. Your husband was very upset that night. I recognized him and went up to the bar to check if he was okay. He was …’ She glances towards the door again and lowers her voice. ‘He was very drunk. Very upset.’

‘And he tried to kiss you?’

‘Yes. But I rebuffed him. There really wasn’t anything to it. I left shortly afterwards.’

‘Did he say anything? After he tried to kiss you?’

She shifts in her seat. ‘I’m not sure it would be helpful if I—’

‘Please. What did he say?’

‘He said that you were the love of his life and he thought he was going to lose you. He said he knew you were unhappy but he didn’t know how to make things right. He blamed himself. He said he’d been working so hard you’d barely seen each other and it had all been for nothing. I told him to talk to you, to tell you how he felt.’ She gives me a long, lingering look.

‘We didn’t have that conversation.’

‘I see.’

‘And when you met him recently, at the doctor’s, what did he say then?’

She looks surprised. ‘He said how sorry he was. He was really very apologetic. I said it was okay, that I’d already forgotten about it.’

‘And that’s it? That’s all the contact you’ve had since it happened?’

‘Yes.’ She runs a hand over her hair. A diamond glitters on the ring finger of her left hand. ‘That’s all the contact we’ve had, other than when the two of you were both here about Billy.’

‘Did you see him?’ I ask.

‘Sorry?’

‘Billy. You said you left the pub shortly after Mark … after the incident. Did you see Billy when you left?’

She gazes up at the ceiling as she tries to remember. ‘I don’t know. I couldn’t say for sure. It was very dark. I spotted a couple of people over by the bins. I was startled when I saw them. I remember walking faster but I couldn’t tell you if one of them was Billy.’

‘Were they male or female?’

She shakes her head. ‘I don’t know. As I said, it was dark. I’m sorry. Is there anything else I can—’

‘No.’ I stand up so quickly my chair tips backwards and I have to put out a hand to stop it from falling. ‘No, that’s it. Thank you so much for your time. I won’t bother you again.’

‘Mrs Wilkinson,’ she says as I reach for the door handle. ‘One more thing, before you go.’

‘Yes.’

‘I know it’s not my place to give you advice but I do think it might help if you and your husband had a convers—’

‘I don’t think that’s any of your business, do you?’

ICE9:
He saw us! I can’t believe he saw us.

Jackdaw44:
It was dark. He won’t have seen our faces.

ICE9:
But he stopped! I saw him stop, right by the fence. He looked straight at me.

Jackdaw44:
So he’s a pervert who gets off on watching people fucking in the bushes. So what?

ICE9:
You don’t get it, do you? If he recognized us my life is over!

Jackdaw44:
You’re freaking out over nothing.

ICE9:
Nothing?! You might have nothing to lose but I’d lose everything. My home, my relationship, everything. I knew it was a mistake to meet you last night. I knew it.

Jackdaw44:
So it’s my fault we shagged, is it? I forced you into it?

ICE9:
You kissed me.

Jackdaw44:
I kissed you goodbye and you kissed me back.

ICE9:
I should have walked away.

Jackdaw44:
You didn’t though, did you? I knew you still had feelings for me. I knew it.

ICE9:
I’m sorry. I can’t do this any more. It’s over. For good this time.

Jackdaw44:
I’ve heard that before.

I drive straight to Liz’s house without stopping. She takes one look at my face and wraps her arms around me.

‘Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. He’s such a fucking bastard.’

I let her lead me into the kitchen and sit down on the chair she pulls out. She pushes a box of tissues towards me but I shake my head. I cried all the way from the school to her house but, now I’m here, the tears have dried up.

‘How long has it been going on?’ she asks. ‘Since last year?’

I shake my head. ‘They haven’t been having an affair.’

‘What? But you’ve been crying. I assumed—’

‘He tried to kiss her and she pushed him away.’

‘Did she now?’ She raises an eyebrow.

‘I believe her. She said he was really upset. He told her he loved me and he was scared he was going to lose me—’

‘And so he kissed her. Way to rescue your relationship, Mark! For fuck’s sake.’

‘But he was right. Things weren’t great between us and—’

‘No.’ Liz crosses her arms. ‘I am not going to let you blame yourself for this. This is about Mark, not you. You were going through a bad patch but you didn’t throw yourself at one of your kids’ teachers. Did you?’

‘No.’

‘No, you fucking didn’t. Honestly.’ She opens the fridge and takes out a bottle of wine. ‘I could swing for him. I really could. Men and their fucking dicks.

‘Sorry.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘I’m making this about me. Lloyd is coming over tomorrow and I’m really bloody nervous.’

‘Has he told you why he wants to talk to you yet?’

‘No.’ She takes two glasses out of the cupboard. ‘I guess I’ll find out soon enough. So, what about you? What are you going to do?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You could leave him.’

‘For a kiss? For lying about something he’s ashamed of? We’ve been married for twenty years.’

‘That’s not a reason to stay together.’

‘But …’ The same images repeat themselves in my head: Mark tenderly checking me over after my first blackout, holding hands during DS Forbes’s visit, ringing to wish me a drunken goodnight, kissing in the kitchen. ‘Things have been different between us recently. We’ve felt closer. We’ve been talking.’

‘Well, that’s something.’ She plonks a glass of rosé in front of me and sits down.

‘What would you do?’ I ask. ‘If you were me?

‘She takes a sip of her wine. ‘But I’m not you, am I? I could tell you that there’s no way you can trust him now he’s lied to you about something this big and that you’ll be happier without him but that’s a decision you need to make.’

‘Are you happier without Lloyd?’

‘I’ve got Tinder, haven’t I? And a nine-inch dildo?’ Her smile slips as she looks up from her glass. ‘I’m fine. I wouldn’t say I’m happy but it’s early days. I miss being in love, I miss curling up with someone on the sofa and I miss having someone to talk to. But maybe it was for the best that Lloyd left. We didn’t love each other any more.’

She sighs. ‘What I’m saying is that it’s better to be on your own than with someone who doesn’t love you. I’m not the right person to ask for advice, Claire. The way I feel about men at the moment I want to tell you to fuck Mark off. But if you still love him and he loves you, and you can put what happened behind you, then maybe it’s not too late for you two to put things right.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Don’t make any big decisions yet. Give yourself some time to—’

She’s interrupted by the sound of my mobile ringing.

‘Sorry.’ I fish it out of my bag. An unknown number flashes on the screen. ‘Hello?’

‘Hello, Mrs Wilkinson. It’s DS Forbes. I was wondering if there’s any way I can get together with you and Mark at some point today? There’s been a development.’