Chosen Child (29 page)

Soraya slept for a good hour but was irritable when she
awoke. Fortunately for Rick she didn’t realise they weren’t in St Ives until
they were leaving the station building in Penzance.

‘Where are we? This isn’t home!’

Rick had decided to jolly her along as far as possible.
‘Clever girl. This is Penzance. It’s not far from St Ives and Mummy’s joining
us here tomorrow. She phoned while you were asleep.’

Soraya shot him a look he could only describe as malevolent.
‘You said - ’

Rick bent and hugged her, not allowing her to squirm away.
‘I know, sweetie, but your Grandma’s still upset about Grandpa, and Mummy needs
to help her. She said to give you lots of love. You’ll see her tomorrow.’

The little girl blinked, her lips trembling. Rick took her
hand. ‘Come on. We’ll find a nice B&B, will we?’

They wandered along Chyandour Cliff until they came to a
small guesthouse whose sign was announcing vacancies, and Rick booked them in
as quickly as he could. It was nothing much, but it was cheap, which was just
as well, because the wad of cash he’d drawn from the ATM at Newquay would have
to last him for a while. He couldn’t risk using his card again if the police
were looking for them. Once in their bedroom he sank down on one of the twin
beds, massaging his thumping head – when had he last had a headache this bad?
It was the stress, it had to be. Maybe he’d feel better if he ate something.

He forced a smile for Soraya. ‘You’re a big girl, aren’t
you? Why don’t I leave you to unpack for us both while I go and fetch something
to eat?’

She stared at him dumbly, her eyes huge. He tossed her the
key to his suitcase but instead of catching it she allowed it to fall to the
floor. Rick glared at her and left.

There was a mini-market further along the road and he
stocked up with a supply of goodies – anything to keep Soraya distracted. He
bought a couple of colouring-in books for her, and half a bottle of wine for
him, though his head might not thank him for it.

Back in the B&B, Soraya’s tearstained face brightened
slightly when he went into the room. Had she been afraid he’d abandoned her
forever? He gave her a tub of chocolate muesli and a banana, and she sat at the
tiny desk in the corner while he switched on the equally tiny TV, turning it to
prevent Soraya seeing the screen. He would watch the news – if Gareth had been
found it would definitely make the bulletin at the top of the hour.

To his utter dismay that was exactly what had happened. The
first item was a bomb scare in London, but then a familiar scene replaced the
image of the Houses of Parliament and Rick sat frozen on his bed as he saw his
own street – his own house – fill the screen. They had cordoned off the
driveway. He didn’t dare put the sound on in case Soraya noticed what was going
on, but at least there was no picture of him or Soraya. Yet. He would catch the
late news while Soraya was asleep. A sob rose in Rick’s throat and he swallowed
it down, painfully, before the little girl noticed anything.

He didn’t need to wonder any more what was going to happen
to him. Stone-cold certainty filled his head and he switched the television
off. He would go to prison. He had buried a man in the garden, and he couldn’t
prove that Gareth’s death had been an accident. Rick moaned aloud then turned
it into a fit of coughing as Soraya looked round, her face full of
apprehension.

‘I swallowed the wrong way.’ Now he was making excuses to a
six-year-old.

‘You aren’t eating anything.’

‘I was sucking a sweet. Look, I brought you some too.’

The diversion tactic worked, and Rick returned to his
pondering. Would Amanda help him? He should have called her before abandoning
his phone. It wouldn’t be long until Gareth was identified, and… Rick began to
feel sick. Amanda could deny everything. She would save her own skin first, for
Jaden and the baby, and there was nothing to connect her to Gareth’s death. She
had driven ‘Gareth’ to Lamorna to start his walk, and the people in the café
had confirmed that. He, in contrast, had taken the day off work and disappeared
off the face of the earth from early morning until late afternoon. Burying
Gareth in his own garden was a complete admission of guilt. The police would
deduce he had met Gareth that day and killed him.

A picture swam before Rick’s eyes. Him and Ella, this time
last year, looking forward to having a little boy to love. Where had it all
gone so wrong? He strode into the en suite where he sat on the toilet seat, his
face buried in a bath towel, sobs shaking his shoulders.

His head was buzzing more than ever, and he swallowed a
couple of paracetamol. Ella had done this to him. But he had his revenge; he
had Soraya here and no one knew. He could jump off a cliff with Ella’s daughter
tomorrow. And – what choice did he have? They would find him eventually.

Returning to the bedroom, he gave Soraya the carton of
blackcurrant juice he’d bought, and opened the bottle of wine. If this was
going to be his last evening on the planet, he might as well make it a good
one.

Friday 1st August

‘Was it okay?’ Owen clicked the indicator up and pulled away
from the police station in the centre of St Ives.

Ella leaned back in the passenger seat, her eyes closed,
more thankful than she could say that Owen’s job was based in Newquay so he
hadn’t been interviewing her. He was a – a friend who was also a police
officer. The interview had lasted over an hour, and never in all her life had
she felt so utterly bone-weary. Everything had changed; she wasn’t in control
of her life any more, and Soraya was gone. The pain was both dull and sharp;
the constant ache of long-term fear alongside piercing shafts of an agony she’d
only imagined before she had a child to love – and lose.

‘I suppose so. They asked about the shed and Rick, and how
much he’d changed and what he’d been doing and – I felt so stupid. If I’d
talked to him more, made him tell me what was going on in his head...’

He said nothing, and she opened her eyes, squinting in the
evening sunlight. They were driving along the coast road, and how macabre it
was to see the tourists – families, young couples, teenagers, all happy and
sun-browned, living the day, milling around on their way home from the beach.
While she was in the middle of the biggest nightmare imaginable. Owen’s face
was grim and Ella sat straighter.

‘What is it?’

‘Ella, Rick’s a grown man. You aren’t responsible for his
actions.’

She twisted in the seat to see his face. ‘You know
something, don’t you? I thought Detective Inspector Martin knew more than he
was telling me. Please tell me it’s about the body and not Soraya.’

Her voice was shaking as much as her hands were. Because
terrible as it sounded, the body was of secondary importance. A skeleton was
beyond help. Soraya was vulnerable and needy, and the important thing was to
find her.

Owen turned up the hill towards home. ‘I don’t have much
more info than you do. They’ve identified the body, but the information won’t
be made public until the next of kin are informed. I don’t know who it is
either.’

Ella’s world swirled before her eyes and she clenched both
fists. The police knew who had been buried in her garden all those weeks. ‘I
thought DNA tests or whatever took days.’

‘There was an SOS pendant round the person’s neck,’ said
Owen quietly. ‘So it’s odds-on the identification according to that is
correct.’

Ella shuddered, then stared across Cedar Road where a little
crowd had gathered. Owen swung the car into his driveway to a series of
flashes. ‘I’m afraid we’ll have the press here for a day or two. Get inside as
quickly as you can, Ella. I’ll have a word with them.’

Eight or nine men and women were standing around the street
with cameras and microphones, and a TV van was parked further down the road. Ella
stumbled towards Owen’s front door, conscious that cameras were clicking,
immortalising her every move.

The front door opened as Ella approached and Caroline stood
back to let her in. ‘Oh Ella, this is a dreadful ordeal for you. I’m glad we
can help.’

Ella sank down at the kitchen table and buried her face in
her hands. How completely hopeless everything seemed, and all she wanted was
her girl. But Soraya wasn’t her girl, was she?

Owen came in and poured them all a drink. Ella forced back
her tears and sipped the wine, feeling the liquid warm its way through her gut.
Thank goodness Owen was here to field the press. A missing child in combination
with a skeleton under a garden shed was news, she understood that – but
understanding made it no easier to cope.

Owen rummaged in fridge and cupboards, and laid cheese and a
tin of crackers on the table. Ella clutched her middle. Food was the last thing
she felt like.

‘What happens now?’ she asked.

‘We eat,’ he said, slicing Brie and pushing the biscuits
towards her. ‘You need to stay strong. The local DI is confident the body will
be formally identified tomorrow. What else did they tell you?’

Ella sat making crumbs with a biscuit. Did he really not
know, or was he just making her talk it through? ‘They’re searching in Newquay
hotels, stations etc for Rick and Soraya, and in St Ives and a few other places
too. Airports have been alerted though they don’t think Rick’ll try to get her
out of the country. And they’re trying to track his phone. An appeal with
photos will be put out tomorrow unless he’s found.’

He nodded, and Ella forced down a piece of Brie. Soraya was
conspicuous, with her long dark hair. A man with a little girl, surely someone
would notice and remember? But this was the holiday season, the resorts were
packed with tourists, and a lot of them were men and little girls with long
dark hair. Ella twirled her wine glass.
Was Soraya all
right?
Not knowing was killing her. All those years she had waited for
her child, but Rick snatched the happiness away almost before it began. And how
bloody dare he.

Gradually, anger replaced the helpless feeling, and Ella sat
planning. She should be active here. Her husband had as good as abducted their
child and this was no time to throw a wobbly. She was depending on Owen far too
much. Ella pulled out her mobile and keyed in Liz’s number.

‘Liz, sorry to disturb you. Do you know yet what’s going to
happen with the adoption authorities?’

‘It depends a lot on whether Rick has committed a crime,
Ella. But Soraya’ll go back to Mel, short term at least. I’m sorry.’

Sick at heart, Ella ended the call. Rick was not going to
win here. She would fight with every bone in her body, she would divorce him as
soon as she could and she would re-apply to adopt Soraya. She had found her
child and she wasn’t going to lose her again.

Friday 1st August

‘Book. Book!’ For the third time Jaden sat up in his cot, and
Amanda fought to keep her patience. But if she spent the next few minutes being
anything other than calm and pleasant it would be the end of getting him to
sleep quickly.

‘Let’s have a song. You lie down and Mummy’ll sing all the
songs your Grandma used to sing to me.’

Jaden lay down again, his bear under one arm and the other
hand clutching Amanda’s. She took a deep breath. No way would she have managed
yet another reading of
Dear Zoo
, Jaden’s book of the
moment, without losing it completely. He always had a hard time finding sleep
after an afternoon away from her. Poor baby. He needed his mum, but his mum
needed him to go to sleep and give her some peace to think in.

Climb Every Mountain
followed by
Feed the Birds
– her mother was still a big fan of musicals
– and Jaden was slumbering, a sweet, happy little smile on his face. Amanda
crept from the room and went to make tea. What she needed was a stiff V&T,
but the baby wouldn’t enjoy that. Back on the sofa, mug balanced on the
beginning of her bump, she glared at her phone on the coffee table. What was
happening, out there in the world? Maybe she should call Ella, but if Rick had
hidden Gareth at home and the police found evidence of this… it might look odd
if she was continually calling and visiting Ella. As next of kin she’d be the
first to be told if the police found a body. Oh, please let Gareth be in a nice
woodland grave somewhere, a place of beauty and tranquillity.

It still might be all right.

The sound of teenage voices from the street had her rushing
to close the kitchen window. Heaven help her if Jaden woke up. Amanda massaged
her tummy, feeling the answering kick from within. She wasn’t alone, she had
her babies. The doorbell shrilled out and she jumped.

It was the police. Amanda stood aside to let them in,
motioning towards Jaden’s room and murmuring, ‘My son’s asleep.’

Sergeant Jacobs and a tall man who introduced himself as
Detective Inspector Martin followed her through to the living room. Amanda’s
brain was whirring; this was going to be important. Should her first thought be
that the visit had something to do with Gareth, or should she be more worried
about Rick and Soraya? It might be better to let them speak first.

She motioned the two men towards the sofa and perched on the
edge of an armchair. Tense. She should look tense and nervous, that would be
right no matter what, and heaven knows it wasn’t difficult. Be careful, Amanda.
You have two children who need you.

Sergeant Jacobs cleared his throat. ‘Mrs Waters – Amanda –
I’m very sorry but we have to inform you a body has been found and we have
reason to believe it’s your husband’s.’

Amanda swallowed. ‘Oh no. Where – when?’

‘It was found earlier today under a shed in the area. Along
with the body we found this.’