Cry for Help (20 page)

There was a letter inside. I unfolded it, holding it as firmly as possible between my hands. The same neat black handwriting filled half of the single sheet. As I started to read, my eyes skipped over words and lines, and I had to set myself in place, focus hard and concentrate to make sense of what was there.

For Dave Lewis

You think you care but you don't. People pretend to but only when it suits them. You are scared and selfish, whatever you might think, and full of shit and this will be revealed for all to see.

You can take the coward's way, hand this note to the police and explain everything. If you do that, then it is over and you will never hear from me again. She will die and you can go on with your life as though this never happened, which is to say as you do now.

If you wish to rescue her, you must prove you are as worthy as you are stupid enough to believe. You must earn the privilege of rescuing her. We shall see. Have no contact with the police and tell them nothing. This is only the start of what we will do together. She will know of your successes and failures and when you let her die she will know how full of shit and lies you have been.

You will hear from me and I will be watching. I leave you a gift so you know I am serious.

Everything else in the room receded slightly.

I felt disconnected from my body, as though I was watching somebody else from the inside, or listening to something from under water. The light coming through the curtains illuminated motes of dust hanging undisturbed in the air, and for a few moments I might as well have been one of them. I had no idea what to do with myself. It was as though my mind had got lost inside my head.

I checked inside the envelope and found the 'gift' he'd left for me. Tori's necklace: the thin, silver chain curled and coiled around that small crucifix. Her sister's necklace.

The only time she ever took it off was to shower, or sometimes when she was in bed. It was her most treasured possession: the first thing she put on every morning, the last she removed at night. So you know I am serious. I held it now between my fingers, allowing the chain to hang down over my hand . . .

Three loud bangs from downstairs, and I was back in my body again, my heart thumping.

The front door.

I put the note and necklace back in the envelope, then made my way back downstairs as slowly and quietly as I could. Across the lounge, I could see the silhouette of what looked like two people standing on the doorstep, rippled in the blue curtain.

The silhouette adjusted itself slightly. Knock, knock, knock.

'Nobody home.'

I could hear them through the window, and it took me a second to place the voice. The detective who'd interviewed me. Currie.

'Guess not.'

'Work said she was off sick.'

A silhouette moved closer to the window. I saw someone cup his hands above his eyes and try to see through the curtains.

'The lights are on.'

The letter-box clacked. 'Ms Edmonds?'

Christ. All they'd have to do was turn the handle. I backed away across the living room. What the fuck were they doing here?

Was it because of Julie?

Because of me?

'Ms Edmonds?'

Whatever the reason, I couldn't stay where I was. The note had been clear about one thing. If I talked to the police, Tori would die. Until I'd had the chance to think it through properly, I couldn't allow that decision to be made for me.

I went back through to the stairwell, closing the door to the lounge quietly behind me. Through it, I heard the front door open. Shit. But the back door opened directly onto the alleyway behind the house. I turned the key as quietly as I could and pulled it open.

It juddered in the frame, creaking loudly.

'Ms Edmonds?'

They were in the kitchen, moving through.

I stepped outside and glanced right and left. The alley ended sooner to the right - so I ran that way, as hard as I could. All that mattered was reaching the end. I passed four houses, five, six, then rounded the corner, checking behind me as I went. Nobody on the street yet. They hadn't seen me.

But my fingerprints would be everywhere.

I ran up the short road until I reached the corner where it joined Tori's street, then turned right again, slowing to a cautious walk. There was a new car parked up outside her house. Mine was slightly nearer. I moved along, keeping close to the hedges for no sensible reason except that it felt safer. I could have abandoned the vehicle altogether, except that my mobile was in there. I'd left it on the fucking passenger seat.

You will hear from me.

I reached the car and fumbled the keys for a moment, then fell inside. Get moving. Started the engine and drove off. Didn't even glance sideways at Tori's house as I passed it.

At the end of the street, I took random turnings by necessity as much as anything else, and didn't feel safe until I hit the ring road, heading further north.

That was when I checked my phone.

[1 Missed Call] it said. [1 New Message]

Chapter Nineteen

Friday 2nd September

Carpe Diem was an underground pub in every sense of the word. From the main street, you went down some innocuous stone steps into a spit and sawdust interior that stayed just the right side of dirty, to mix with a clientele of young punks and old rockers. The wood was faded, like old timber, and the red leather in the booth I was sitting in was hard and cracked. Yellow foam poked out from a hole resembling a shotgun wound. Across the bar, on a small stage, amps and guitar cases were waiting for later.

Rob and I came here a bit. I was sitting across from him now, sipping a beer, still trying to get my thoughts into some kind of order.

The missed call and voicemail when I'd got back to the car had been from Rob. First and foremost, he was wondering where the fuck I'd gone. More importantly, from my point of view, he wanted to let me know that an email from Tori had arrived. We'd arranged to meet here for a drink.

I'd already read the email, which he'd printed out and brought with him. 'Tori' had sent it to our work address.

It was strange to be sitting here attempting to pretend that everything was normal when I knew it wasn't. I had to act as though I was okay, even while adrenalin was surging through me and my head was in bits. My hands kept shaking slightly, and my throat was tight.

'I wouldn't have opened it normally,' Rob said, casually sipping his beer. 'Except I knew you were worried.'

'It's okay.'

I read it again.

Dave

I'm sorry I've not replied properly. I've just been busy - you know how it is. Don't worry about me. I'm fine at the moment. I'm off work with an infection, and I'm at my parents' house as I was visiting for the weekend when I got sick. Not feeling great in all honesty, but battling through.

I'll probably stay here for a few days and then hopefully head back after that. Depends how things go, I guess. Might be good to have a chat, though? I think you said your mobile was out of commission, so I'll give you a ring at your parents' later on? I know you were planning to go over there rather than head home.

Take it easy in the meantime, and hope you're well, Tori

(P.s. Sorry for cluttering up your work email. You might want to get rid of this.)

'So,' Rob said. 'Are we happy now?'

'Yeah.'

I smiled, doing my best to make it look convincing. No, I wasn't happy at all. My mind kept flitting back to that Ouija board spirit, the one that had been pretending. I knew for sure now that this wasn't Tori. The text might have come from her mobile and the email from her account. But someone else had sent them.

The man who'd killed Julie.

I tried to wash away the images that summoned up with a mouthful of beer. It didn't work.

'What's up with your phone?' Rob said.

Out of commission, I saw on the page before me. It wasn't, but I understood what the man was telling me. The police had turned up at Tori's house, and I could only assume that was because of me. She was missing and my prints were everywhere. They'd be looking for me soon, assuming they weren't already. I imagined it was possible for the police to trace a mobile if it was turned on, and the man was warning me not to let that happen.

I said, 'Battery's dying.'

'Well, that'll be a blessed relief for her.' Rob looked at the stage, uninterested. 'I didn't know you were going to your father's house. Do you need a hand?'

I shook my head. 'Just got to sort some papers I missed.'

'Right.'

'No big deal.'

He turned back to me, unsure. Rob had always been good at reading people, but it would have been obvious to anyone that something was wrong. I was talking in clipped sentences and couldn't meet his eye.

Across the pub, I heard the clack of pool balls, and then a couple of cheers. I glanced over, grateful for the distraction. A skinhead was down over the table, the lights gleaming on his skull. He played a slow shot and another ball went down. That group wasn't paying us much attention, and my gaze moved to the other people in here. The couple in the next booth but one. An older man stood still by a tall table, head tilted up to watch Sky Sports. A student holding a pint at his hip, knees bent to collect the winnings from a fruit machine.

All far enough away for us to have privacy, but . . .

I will be watching.

. . . it was easy to be paranoid. I'd even waited across the street for Rob to arrive, watched him ambling along, hands in pockets, with that familiar swing in his step. But just because a person says something in an anonymous note, it doesn't mean it's true. You could post a note saying 'I will be watching' through a random stranger's door, and they'd be looking over their shoulder whether you followed them around or not. It's too easy to manipulate people when they can't see what you're doing, and if I was going to get through this, I needed to remember that. My skill-set was small, admittedly, but it was specialised.

'Are you all right?' Rob said. 'You're acting really weird.'

'I'm fine.'

'No, you're not. What's on your mind?'

'I've just been a bit of an idiot. That's all.'

'Yeah, but you often are. It doesn't explain why you're acting weirder than usual.'

'Maybe I'm pissed off with myself.'

He leaned back. That answer seemed to satisfy him. I felt bad for lying, but it needed to be done. And then thinking about lying made me remember Sarah.

Our date tonight. Shit.

Obviously, I wasn't going to be able to get to The Olive Tree. Worse than that, I couldn't even risk turning my phone on to let her know, never mind explain why. So at half past seven, she would be sitting there in the restaurant on her own, wondering where I was. Perhaps it was strange, given what else had happened, but the image filled me with panic.

Put it out of your mind for now. Concentrate.

But it reminded me that the police might be tracing my mobile phone: I needed to leave right now. There was something I'd been mulling over, though, and if I was going to do it then now was the time.

'Rob,' I said. 'Do you remember when we met?'

He frowned, the pint glass at his mouth. 'Yeah.'

'You remember where we were? Don't tell me; just tell me you remember.'

He put the glass down slowly.

'What are you talking about?'

'Just listen to what I'm saying. Do you remember that?'

I was sure he would - the bar in the University Union. He was doing his mentalism routine, and we got talking when he stopped at my table.

'Yeah, I remember. But what's that--'

'Nothing, but I want you to do me a favour. Whatever happens, I want you to keep remembering that. Okay?'

He stared at me.

'Dave - what the fuck is going on?'

'Just do that for me.'

I folded the email, slipped it into my pocket, then stood up.

'You're going again?'

'Yeah,' I said. 'Things to see, people to do.'

'But--'

'I'll see you tomorrow.' I held my hand up, not turning around as I walked away, thinking: for Christ's sake, don't follow me. 'Take care, Rob.'

I left my car in the parking garage beneath the Sphere for now, and made my way through the city centre streets. It was a little after five, and the sky was already dark blue, with the night's first prickling of stars appearing overhead. Illuminated shop windows stood out in the gloom, and people filled the streets.

When I arrived at the top of the cobbled alley where our office was located I stopped and looked down, past the Blue Bar and the deli. Although a few groups of people were cutting through both ways, I couldn't see any police waiting for me. And Rob had only left here half an hour ago. If there'd been any around then, I was fairly certain he'd have mentioned it.

I still didn't understand everything that was happening, but I was sure the police would be looking for me soon. The man had told me to go to my parents' house, which implied they'd go to my flat. If they did that, they'd probably come here to the office as well. Maybe they wouldn't know about my parents' house yet.

I started walking.

Sorry for cluttering up your work email.

You might want to get rid of this.

In the time since finding the note at Tori's I'd calmed down a little and had a chance to think things through. And for the moment, I'd decided, I was going to do what the man told me. Once you settle on a course of action, you've got at least one less thing to worry about. Disregarding the panic, I was now faced with a series of tasks to perform, analysing and evaluating things as I went.

In the short term, that meant evading the police, getting to my parents' house, and seeing what happened. As time went on, I would look for opportunities to prod the gaps. See what could be done while the man wasn't paying attention.

First things first, I had to get rid of that email.