Cruel Minds (15 page)

Emily peered down at her hands, which had clamped themselves to her knees. What the press had done to her following Phillip Gerard’s suicide was tantamount to a public flogging. A young boy had taken his own life, which was tragic and awful, but a dead child wouldn’t sell anywhere near as many copies as a child driven to suicide by his crazed teacher. The headlines had made the story front page news. Suddenly, everyone knew Emily Swanson’s name. She was the teacher accused of assaulting an already vulnerable child. The monster who’d reportedly attacked him after he’d turned to her for help, driving him to leap to his death. The truth—that Phillip had been saying terrible things about her recently deceased mother, that she had shouted at him, not hit him—had had little bearing.

Months later, as quickly as the tabloids had sought to destroy Emily, they had rallied around her, proclaiming her a hero for exposing the heinous crimes of Doctors Williams and Chelmsford. She had redeemed herself, they’d said. All was forgiven. The tabloids were as fickle as children, Emily thought; one minute they were your sworn enemy, the next your closest ally.

She released her fingers from her knees and felt the tension sink into the floor. What people thought of her was none of her business, but it seemed that still wasn’t enough to stop her from worrying after all.

Pamela was staring at her. “Are you all right? You’ve lost some colour.”

Emily nodded. She hoped the headlines would be kind to Pamela and Meadow Pines, even if in her heart she knew it was a false hope. She turned her thoughts to the real reason she had knocked on Pamela’s door.

“I keep thinking about Oscar. I wonder why he did it. I wonder why he chose Meadow Pines. Had he been here before?”

Pamela moved away from the window and leant against the wall. “No. I have a good memory for faces and I definitely hadn’t seen his before. I have no idea why he chose this place. Tell me, Emily, what exactly did you see when you found Sam and Helen in the forest?

“Sam had already cut Oscar down,” she said. “Helen talked him into it. She manipulated him.”

Anger lit up Pamela’s face. “Sam may not be the sharpest tool in the box but he’s far from stupid. What he did, manipulated or not, will only serve to make things worse for us.”

Emily was quiet, observing the strain in Pamela’s body.

“Did Sam tell you about the photograph?” she asked.

“Yes. A picture of a young man.”

“Don’t you think it’s strange?”

“In what way?”

“Oscar didn’t leave a suicide note but he kept that photo in his pocket. It feels significant. I wonder who he is, the man in the picture.”

Pamela’s gaze flicked from Emily to the bookcase. “A family member perhaps.”

“They didn’t look related.”

“A lover then.”

“It’s possible.”

The women’s eyes met. Pamela clasped her hands together and said, “Regardless of who he is, these are matters for the police.”

“Perhaps that man had visited Meadow Pines before,” Emily said. “If you saw the picture you might recognise him.”

“I think Oscar’s body has been tampered with enough, don’t you?”

Emily leaned forwards on the couch. “You’re right. Perhaps I could describe him to you.”

“Lots of people have passed through here, Emily. I highly doubt I’ll be able to identify someone just from a description.”

“But he was so distinctive. It was his eyes—they were deep and black, like staring into a void. And he had a scar just above his left eyebrow.”

She watched as Pamela closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, beads of perspiration had formed at her temples.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

Sitting back again, Emily heaved her shoulders. “Well, I’m sure the police will have their ways and means of finding out who he is. It’s just all very strange, isn’t it? Oscar, the robbery, and now this photograph.” She paused, watching Pamela closely. “There’s something else that I haven’t told anyone apart from Jerome.”

Pamela returned to the armchair and sat down. “Do I want to hear this?”

“Last night, I was lying in bed when I heard an argument coming from the next room. Oscar’s room.”

“Really? An argument between Oscar and whom?”

“I’m not sure but it was a woman. Doesn’t that suggest that someone here at Meadow Pines knew Oscar? Why else would they be in his room late at night?”

Pamela opened her mouth, then snapped it shut again. She shook her head. “But how could anyone know him? It was his first time at Meadow Pines. Unless, I suppose, one of the guests knew him from outside...”

“Whoever it is, they’re keeping very quiet about it. Which makes me ask, what are they trying to hide?” Emily hesitated, rubbing her chin with her thumb. “The more I think about it, the more questions appear, and it all keeps going back to how Oscar died.”

Pamela stared at her with searching eyes. “What is it that you’re trying to say?”

It was a good question and one she thought about for a moment. “I’m having a hard time understanding how Oscar managed to hang himself without anything to stand on and no way of climbing at least fifteen feet up a tree.”

Pamela’s mouth moved silently up and down. Her eyes flicked from corner to corner. Then, realisation punched her in the gut.

“I can’t believe this is happening! You think someone
murdered
Oscar?” she gasped, sweat pouring from her brow. “We’ll never recover from this. It’s all over. Meadow Pines is finished.”

“I could be wrong,” Emily said, leaning forwards.

“And what if you’re right?”

“If I’m right, if someone did kill Oscar, then there’s a very good chance that they’re still here at Meadow Pines.”

Horrified, Pamela stood up. “Where is my daughter? Why isn’t she back with the police? What’s happened to her?”

Before Emily could try to calm her down, the door flew open and Jerome burst into the room. He stared at Emily, then Pamela, eyes wide, chest heaving.

Emily leapt up from the couch.

“What is it?” she asked.

When Jerome finally caught his breath, he said, “It’s Ben and Sylvia! They’re gone!”

“I
was heading up to my room to lie down when I saw the front door was open. I looked outside and there they were, making a run for it.”

In the northwest corner of the meadow, Ben and Sylvia had reached the trail that led out of Meadow Pines and back to civilisation. A second later, they were gone.

“They’ve cleared their rooms out,” Daniel said, emerging from the house. He joined the others at the garden gate. “If we hurry we can catch them up.”

Pamela stopped him. “We have more important things to worry about.”

Janelle appeared, followed by Melody, who hung back in the doorway like a timid bird.

“Ben and Sylvia have done a runner,” Jerome said, filling them in. “Business people my ass—they’re lying crooks!”

Janelle thrust her hands on her hips. “I knew those two were bad news! I could feel all that negative energy just oozing from them.”

“What did I miss?” Helen’s voice rang out behind them.

Jerome was unable to hide his satisfaction. “Your story. It would appear your pals Ben and Sylvia are our thieves.”

Face flushing, Helen followed his gaze across the meadow. “But it was their idea to search the rooms.”

“A clever cover which
you
unwittingly helped to orchestrate,” Pamela said.

“But you searched their rooms, you didn’t find anything.”

“You said this morning you took a booking over the phone,” Emily said. “How much time between then and the start of the yoga session?”

“About half an hour, I suppose. I took the call, then I went to change my clothes.”

“Which would have given Ben and Sylvia thirty minutes to break into the office, steal everyone’s belongings, then stash it all out in the forest.”

“They make a big fuss, suggest a room search to cover up their guilt, then make a run for it at the next available opportunity.” Helen chewed on her lip, then smiled. “Clever bastards.”

Turning away from the group, Emily stared across the meadow. “What about Oscar? Are we saying that it’s all just coincidence?”

“Of course it’s a coincidence,” Janelle said. “Oscar committed suicide. Ben and Sylvia used everyone’s panic as a distraction from what they’d done.”

“But what about Marcia and the police?”

The words hung in the air between them.

“I’m going after them,” Daniel said.

“And what will you do then? Beat them into submission?” Pamela dug into her pocket and pulled out her watch.

“They have the keys to my bike. To your cars. How are we getting out of here if we don’t get them back? We don’t have time to wait for the police.”

Janelle looked around the group. “I am not an advocator of violence but Daniel’s right. We go after Ben and Sylvia, we get our keys back, and then we drive to the police station at Lyndhurst to find out what on earth’s going on. What’s the time?”

Pamela checked the watch. Her hand was trembling. “It’s a quarter to five.”

“What if you don’t catch up with them?” Emily asked.

Eyes still fixed across the meadow, Daniel said, “Unless we can hitch a ride, I suppose we walk to Lyndhurst. But that means we need to leave now before we’re wandering around in the dark.”

It was a solid plan, Emily thought, and one that would get the police here, even if it meant having to wait for a few more hours.

“Sam should go with you,” Pamela said. “If you aren’t able to catch up with Ben and Sylvia, he’ll show you the way to Lyndhurst. I’ll go get him.”

Daniel nodded. “We leave in two minutes.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the garden as they waited for Pamela to return. Still in the doorway, Melody shifted her weight from one foot to the other and glanced around the garden. Meeting Emily’s gaze, she quickly looked away, shame painted on her face as bright as a rainbow.

“Don’t feel so bad,” Emily said, joining her on the doorstep. “You broke a rule not the law. Ben and Sylvia may have tried to use you to cover up their own crime, but Pamela knew you were no thief, didn’t she?”

Melody bowed her head. Her shoulders moved up to her ears, then back down again.

“I mean it. Compared to everything else that’s happened today, no one cares.”

“Pamela cares. She’s always been so kind to me. I’ve let her down.” Melody looked up. Helen was watching them. “I don’t like
her
.”

“Come on.” Taking Melody’s hand, Emily led her towards the others. As they approached, Melody pulled back.

Failing to hide her amusement, Helen turned away. A fire ignited in the pit of Emily’s stomach.

“What will you write about in this story of yours?” she asked, releasing Melody’s hand.

Helen arched an eyebrow. “I’ll simply tell the facts as they happened.”

“But that wouldn’t be good journalism, would it?
Man hangs himself at retreat
is just another suicide story.”

“True.”

“So what will it be?
Deadly Retreat—one dead as guests go on crime spree?
”

“You know, that’s not bad. It’s a little clunky, but I could work with it.” A half-smile appeared on Helen’s lips.

“Pamela can’t control the actions of her guests. This isn’t her fault. Are you really prepared to ruin her business just to get a step up the ladder?”

“I just report the news,” Helen said, aware that all eyes were now on her. “What people make of it is their own business.”

Emily felt Jerome’s hand on her elbow and she shook it off. “So you’re saying you don’t care. You journalists are all the same! It doesn’t matter whose reputation you destroy, just as long as you get your name in the paper.”

“Sounds to me like you’re talking from experience,” said Helen, standing her ground. “Emily Swanson... You know, come to think of it, that’s a familiar name. Why is that?”

The two women glared at each other, eyes burning.

Melody’s quiet voice filled the silence. “Perhaps we could cook something nice for dinner. I expect everyone will be hungry later, and cooking is always a good way to pass the time.”

Reaching out to touch Emily’s arm, then thinking better of it, Jerome said, “I think that’s a great idea, Melody. Em, are you in?”

Before either of them could speak, Daniel strode past, muttering as he headed towards the house. He was about to duck inside when Pamela appeared in the doorway. Immediately, Emily knew something was wrong.

“What is it?” she asked.

Pamela’s eyes wandered over the garden, then the meadow. “It’s Sam. I can’t find him anywhere in the house.”

Emily’s heart skipped and jumped. “Perhaps he’s gone for a walk to clear his head. He looked pretty annoyed earlier.”

“He wouldn’t disappear without saying anything, not with things how they are.”

The others looked at each other uncertainly.

“Every minute we waste standing here is helping Ben and Sylvia to get away,” Daniel said. “We need to leave
now.
”

Pamela wrung her hands. “But without Sam how will you get to the deer sanctuary?”

“The same way as Ben and Sylvia—we follow the track.”

“That only takes you part of the way.”

“So we’ll follow the road. There’ll be signs. We just have to hope those bastards don’t flag down a ride.”

Daniel marched towards the gate. Following behind, Janelle looked over her shoulder.

“We’ll be as fast as we can,” she said to Pamela. “And try not to worry. Marcia may arrive with the cavalry even before we catch up with those two.”

The other watched them head out of the garden and past the vegetable plot. Anxiety stirred in Emily’s stomach as Daniel and Janelle made it to the end of the meadow, then disappeared into the trees. With just five of them left in the garden, the surrounding forest felt suddenly infinite. Above their heads, the late afternoon sun continued to warm the day.

“We should look for Sam,” Emily said. “I guess Pamela and I were the last to see him, but he didn’t say anything about going anywhere.”

“Maybe he went to look for Marcia,” Helen interrupted. “Young love and all that.”

Pamela shook her head. “He would have told me.”