A Cry in the Night (7 page)

So this is what trauma does to you, he thought. It eats at you, from inside. At first it feels like an assault and it leaves you winded. But then it comes back, from deep in your gut, so deep you feel as though it’s a part of you. It drags you down and mashes your thoughts and feelings into bits so nothing makes sense.

That’s your wife, just there. Your beautiful wife. And she needs you. That’s why she’s drinking, you fool.

Tim turned back to Sarah. He saw her pour the dregs into the glass. He looked at her red eyes and saw her swallow painfully, holding back more tears. And his heart softened.

But then she caught his eye and he saw the sneer on her lip, and he had to turn away again to hide his anger.

He went out and smoked a cigarette. She opened another bottle.

He came back inside later, feeling no better. She knew he was there, he was sure of it, but she didn’t look up. He was not worth looking at.

He watched her, stuck against the kitchen worktop, too exhausted to do anything else.

Matthew Bryden had always been known as Bud, but he couldn’t tell anyone why. Zoe asked Bernie about him and she told him that he was a likeable, straightforward guy with no airs and graces. Reading between the lines, Bud sounded a bit thick, but Zoe would wait to meet him in person before making any judgements. A police check revealed repeated moves from one foster home to another.

Bud could normally be found in the pub, unless he’d run out of money, in which case he’d hole up at home, watching TV. He earned his keep through gardening and odd jobs, most of which he did for Sarah and Tim Downing – raking leaves, mowing their lawn and maintaining this and that for them. Or rather, for Sarah, as Bernie said with a lift of her eyebrows. It became clear that Bud had a soft spot for Sarah and trailed after her in a manner that suited neither of them. It made him a joke among the men, her a siren. Another reason to point at her, Zoe thought. She had her
strategy in place as she rang on Bud’s doorbell. Sam had let her do this one on her own, hedging that Bud was susceptible to a woman’s charm. And although she appreciated his openness about the tactics, she still felt a little grubby.

Bud lived in a tidy run-down bungalow on the edge of the village. Tall evergreen trees robbed the building of light, and as she walked up the neat path she felt the air become colder. There was a green tinge of moss on the walls and around the white plastic window frames. A fire burned inside and logs were neatly stacked against a wall. But as tidy as he had made it, there was something functional rather than homely about the place.

Zoe watched through the bubbled glass as Bud approached the door. She saw his rippling silhouette pause in the hallway, clearly surprised by the unexpected call, before hesitantly unlocking the door and opening it. He was big but hunched, as though embarrassed by his own presence, and wore ironed jeans and a fading tracksuit top. His eyes flicked to her and behind her, nervous.

‘Hello?’

She flashed her warrant card. ‘Mr Bryden?’ He nodded. ‘I’m Detective Constable Barnes. I’m investigating the disappearance of Lily and Arthur Downing. Can I come in?’

He nodded and gestured for her to enter, before carefully shutting the door. She looked around, taking in the frayed carpet, the big muddy boots by the door, the lack of any
pictures or paintings on the walls. He pointed to a door that led to a small, equally neat and equally dispiriting living room. It housed a big TV, a sofa, an armchair and a black Labrador panting in its basket.

‘Has something happened?’ His voice was surprisingly high for such a big guy.

‘Just routine inquiries at the moment.’

He nodded, pulling nervily at his fingers. Zoe noted how big his hands were; thick and calloused from working outdoors in all weathers. She briefly imagined those hands on a small boy.

‘So. You know the parents, Mr and Mrs Downing?’

‘I do jobs for them. In the garden, mostly. Put up all that post-and-rail fencing at the end of their land.’

‘They’re good people.’

‘I like them a lot.’

‘Terrible thing to happen.’

‘Awful.’

‘Did you know the children?’

‘Sometimes Arthur would kick a ball around on his own in the garden. I’d kick it back. But I didn’t do it much. People get odd ideas.’

‘Oh, I know. You pat a kid on the head and they do you for assault!’

He laughed, nodding. Eager to please.

‘Did he seem lonely, then?’

‘Huh?’

‘Arthur. You said he was kicking a ball about on his own. Didn’t he have many friends?’

‘No, he was okay. Just, at home, it was …’

She watched him pause, saw him calibrating the lie.

‘What was wrong at home, Mr Bryden?’

‘Nothing.’ His reply came out too quickly. ‘Nothing. Lily didn’t like football, is all. And you should call me Bud. I feel odd when people say Mr Bryden.’

‘Bud. Please. What was wrong at home?’

‘Nothing.’ His voice was a pitch higher now, and Zoe felt a tingle in her neck. The feeling that she was about to break and enter.

‘Bud …’

‘There’s nothing. They were good kids and that’s that. She’s very kind, Sarah is, so don’t start stirring things up, okay?’

He stared down at the floor, still fidgeting with his fingers.

‘Bud,’ she said softly, and waited until he looked up. ‘I’m here to find them and get them back to their mum and dad. We’re on the same side, you and me.’

He nodded but was still withdrawn. He reminded her of her teenage nephew, when he’d been found with a stolen bottle of vodka under his bed.

‘I know I’m just a girl and a bit goofy, but you need to trust me.’

‘You’re alright,’ he said, and blushed. She knew she had him now. She told him how the case was like a jigsaw with lots of pieces, which don’t seem to fit at first. But unless she could get them all, every single one, then no one would ever get the whole picture. And without that, they’d never find Lily and Arthur. Bud nodded, keen to help.

‘So help me,’ she said. ‘Please. Even if it seems unimportant, help me.’

His foot twisted on the carpet. She urged him on with gentle, kind coaxing, keeping the conversation light.

He sighed. ‘People don’t like Sarah, that’s the thing.’

‘Why? She seems lovely.’

‘They’re jealous. Don’t know her.’

‘But you know her.’

‘Yeah. We’re special friends,’ he said, and revealed a shy smile.

‘That sounds great.’

He shrugged and blushed again. Zoe wondered what ‘special friends’ meant, but she also knew that she’d seen and heard too much to trust her imagination. So she pressed on, slowly loosening him up; flattering him, charming him, flirting a little when necessary.

Bud’s face clouded with worry as she pushed for the truth and for a while neither spoke. But Zoe knew that she wouldn’t leave without something. She was used to waiting.

‘Just …’ he paused again, then finally coughed it out. ‘She
got cross with Arthur sometimes. Really mad, and he’d run down to the bottom of the garden and cry. And sometimes he’d hide from her, but that was silly. She was just trying to teach him a lesson.’

‘What did she do?’

‘Nothing bad. Nothing at all, hardly … Just made sure he didn’t do it again. But if other people had heard about it, they’d have said she was cruel, or worse. Leaving him out there for so long. People rush to judge round here.’

‘I bet you knew how that felt,’ Zoe said, and regretted it instantly. She was showing too much of her hand, that she’d checked up on him. But Bud didn’t see the slip. He just nodded, staring down at the floor.

‘I wanted to comfort him but I didn’t think it was proper. A boy and a grown man.’

‘So he cried all alone?’

‘Not her fault. Sarah only got cross ’cos she cared.’

She moved a little closer to him and felt him squirm at the proximity. ‘She loved him,’ he added weakly. ‘She’s a great mum. People just don’t see it. They all gossip but no one knows her like me. Not even Tim.’

He took in a quick, short breath, as though he’d said something he shouldn’t have. Zoe wondered if his words had originally been spoken by Sarah, standing as close to him as Zoe was now. She pretended to look for something in her bag, giving him time to relax.

‘I bet she never shouted at you,’ she said with a laugh, her eyes still down as she rooted through her bag. She heard him chortle in agreement. She looked up and saw him grinning at her. Like an open target.

‘Now, let me just tick you off my list and I’ll be on my way. Was it you that found the bike?’

He looked as though he’d been shot. He nodded, unable to hide his unease.

‘Okay, that’s good. Now why isn’t that in the original police report?’

He shrugged unhappily.

‘No matter,’ she said brightly and pretended to write something on the paper. She could tell his eyes were all over her.

‘I think maybe there was some confusion …’ he stammered.

‘Yes?’

‘I found the bike and went and got Sarah and Mr Downing and then we all ran back down here.’

‘How long does that take? From their house to the lake?’

‘Five minutes or so.’

‘Right, that’s not mentioned here. The police seemed to think you weren’t really involved at all. How did that happen?’ she asked casually. He had no answer to this. She let the silence do its work.

‘Bud?’

‘It didn’t seem important, that’s all,’ he said, his eyes rooted to the floor.

She asked him why he would think this, fighting the impulse to go in strong. Bud shrugged once again. The answer, she knew, was because of Sarah. When she asked him if this was right, he nodded, almost imperceptibly, as though the smaller the nod, the less the betrayal.

‘So she told you not to tell the police that you were there?’

‘We just thought it might confuse things.’

‘How would it confuse things?’

She saw his eyes crinkle with confusion. The lie didn’t come from him. Not originally.

‘I just want the kids to come back.’

‘Of course, and so do we. Don’t worry, we’re on the same side.’

He let out a breath of relief and gratitude, with no idea of the thorny trap ahead.

‘The thing that concerns me is that you’ve told a lie. And there’s normally a reason for that. Often it’s to cover another lie. To hide something else.’

He was practically ripping his fingers out of his sockets now. And his raw panic made her nervous. She was alone in a house with a big man, a man who could hurt her easily if he so chose. But she was close to something here.

‘Why did you pretend not to find the bicycle?’

He frowned, as if he was about to cry. ‘They all want to hurt her!’ he blurted.

‘I know, they’re jealous. They’re idiots.’

‘They are!’

‘So this is about protecting Sarah, is it?’

He clammed up again. He veered between panic and brooding silences.

‘Bud, please. Talk to me. Help me find the children.’

‘People twist things. Cops twist things.’

‘I won’t twist anything. Look at me. I’m not clever like that lot. I just care about little Arthur and Lily.’ She hated the exploitation of their names, but she was close now.

‘People think she’s not a good mum,’ he said. ‘They’re cruel because she’s happy. Was happy. If you’d seen her at the lake and seen how scared she was – if you’d seen that yourself, you wouldn’t think anything bad nearly there.’

He nodded to himself, reminding himself how true his words were.

‘She went totally crazy. And I was worried that it was my fault. Because I moved the bike. Maybe he was looking for it and maybe that’s why he went missing. But I saw it on the ground and I thought, that’s his. And I thought maybe he’d left it behind. I didn’t want him getting into trouble. So I went to find Sarah.’

‘You didn’t do anything wrong. Okay?’

He nodded but his face was still creased unhappily.

‘She said that too,’ Bud continued. ‘She was so kind and gentle. She said not to worry, even when she was scared. That’s how kind she is. Thinking of me at a time like that.’

‘She’s great. I see that.’

‘Yeah. And she could see how scared I was and so we agreed that I wouldn’t say I found the bike or that I was around, just so I could stay out of it. So you lot wouldn’t come and hassle me. ’Cos I’m no good when people come and bother me like this.’

‘She just wanted to help you out.’

‘Yes!’

‘Well, that’s nice of her.’ He smiled at her and she almost felt guilty. ‘So she lied for you.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘And did she ask for anything in return?’

His mouth snapped closed again. It felt like he might bolt for the door.

‘How about a glass of water?’ she asked pleasantly. He nodded and turned away.

She followed him into the kitchen – a modest space at the back of the house with a single strip of Formica counter-top and battered units beneath. There was a dog bowl on the floor and big wellington boots by the back door.

He poured water in a glass and handed it to Zoe.

‘I don’t want to get her into trouble,’ he said again, like a mantra.

‘For what?’

‘She’s looked out for me. She’s been a friend. Everyone else thinks I’m simple.’

‘What have you done for her?’

‘It’s nothing to do with the children.’

‘I know that. I trust you. So what was it?’

He shook his head. His eyes pleaded with her – don’t ask.

‘She didn’t ask for anything. She’s my friend.’ The words seemed to restore some sense of control. ‘What else do you want to know?’ he asked, taking the glass off her.

She considered pushing him further, but the tone in his voice gave her pause, and for now she was satisfied. She doubted that Bud had anything to do with the children’s disappearance. He had more to tell, but Zoe worried that if she pushed him too much now, it might backfire. He would go running to Tim and Sarah, she was sure of that. She remembered that he’d called her ‘Sarah’ and him ‘Mr Downing’. Maybe he would only go running to her. Maybe Sarah kept her secrets safe with Bud and not Tim.

Either way, Bud had been ‘removed’ from the scene by Sarah. She didn’t want the police questioning him and the reasons for that would have to be uncovered. But not right now.