Someone To Save you (25 page)

By the time the knock sounded for a third time, Sam had decided not to give them what they wanted. He ignored the door and settled back on the sofa.

Then the phone rang.

Feeling more on edge than he had realised, Sam moved over to the phone. ‘Hello?’

The line was dead.

He’d only just replaced the handset when the phone again called out. He snatched at the receiver. ‘Hello?’

Again dead.

‘What the hell is this?’

Sam thought of Richard Friedman and the unknown girl who had called herself Alison. It was like their ghosts had returned. He moved into the centre of the lounge, his heart rate increasing as he waited for the inevitable next call or knock.

And then the phone rang for a third time.

This time he let it ring for a few seconds before picking it up.

‘Hello?’

There was a blast of interference down the line, but battling through it was a familiar voice. ‘Sam?’

Sam experienced a rush of joy. ‘Anna? Is that you?’

‘Sorry, the line’s terrible,’ she shouted.

Then suddenly the inference disappeared.

‘Anna?’

‘Phew, that’s better,’ she said. ‘I’ve been trying to get through for minutes now, but the phone lines around here aren’t the best. They’re still repairing a lot of the network from the flooding, so you have to take your chance while you can.’

Her voice was instantly soothing. ‘It’s great to hear from you,’ Sam said, pressing the receiver closer to his cheek. He wanted to reach down the phone and embrace her, feel the comforting warmth of her skin.

‘You too,’ Anna replied. ‘Email’s okay, but...’

Sam smiled. ‘I know what you mean. It’s so good to hear your voice.’

‘Ditto.’

‘So how’s it all going?’

‘Great,’ Anna said, her voice upbeat and now even clearer down the line. ‘We’ve pretty much finished setting up the new water supplies to the local area. We’ve connected up the health centres and schools, and most of the villages have now got access to fresh water for the first time in weeks. The situation was really terrible, Sam, cholera had really got a grip, but the number of cases has dropped back a lot in the past few days.’

‘That’s great.’ Sam knew from his time in India just how horrific cholera could be; striking at areas of weakness and picking off the most vulnerable with a ruthlessness that was genuinely frightening – for both the local population and those trying to care for them. ‘So, are you on schedule to come home on time?’

‘Ahead of schedule,’ Anna replied. ‘I’m already booked on a flight for tomorrow morning.’

This was fantastic news, and Sam didn’t hide his joy. ‘Tomorrow? That’s great. I can’t wait to see you, A.’

‘Me neither.’ There was a pause, then, ‘I’m worried about you, Sam.’

The statement took Sam totally by surprise. ‘Worried? I’m okay,’ he said, trying not to sound defensive.

‘I know what’s been happening since I’ve been away – with that guy Richard Friedman.’

There was shock, closely followed by anger that someone had told Anna the news that he’d wanted to protect her from. ‘How? Louisa told you? She had no right...’

‘It wasn’t Louisa,’ Anna interrupted. ‘It was your mum. She emailed me – she thought I knew.’

Sam put a hand to his head. He hadn’t wanted Anna to find out like this. But it was his fault. He should have told her himself. ‘She told you everything?’

‘Yes. I can’t believe it, Sam. After all these years, for someone to just appear out of nowhere and say they killed Cathy. Well, it’s, unbelievable. Shocking. You must be going out of your mind. I called as soon as I could get to a phone.’

‘I’m okay,’ Sam said. ‘I’m slowly getting my head around it.’

‘Do you really think this guy murdered Cathy?’

‘Did my mum tell you about the locket?’

‘Yes.’

Sam paced up and down, twisting the phone lead tighter. ‘Well I just don’t know how he could have got the thing if he hadn’t really done it. I mean, he could have found it on the dunes, or been given it by someone, but he said he did it.’

‘So what about Marcus; are you going to meet with him? If this guy did kill your sister, then Marcus is…’

‘Innocent, I know. I just went to see him, tonight.’

‘Really? How was it?’

‘Strange,’ Sam replied. ‘After so many years of being sure that he killed Cathy, it was just so weird to sit there talking to him. Did my mum mention that she visited him in prison?’

‘No.’

‘She said she thought he was innocent pretty much all along, but she didn’t want to say anything because of how me and Dad felt.’

‘And how do you feel now?’

‘Confused. Guilty. Angry. I don’t know.’

‘It’s totally understandable, Sam. You’ve been through a hell of a lot. I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you. Don’t be mad with your mum for telling me, will you?’

‘I’m not,’ Sam replied. ‘I just didn’t want you to find out like that, while you’re away.’

‘You should have told me, Sam.’

‘I didn’t want to worry you.’

‘People care about you. You should let them.’

‘I know, I know, it’s just I thought that, what’s the point of you worrying about me when you can’t do anything about it?’

‘I can do things like this.’

Sam knew she was right. ‘I’m sorry, I should have told you. And it is good to talk about it with you. It feels good.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ she said. ‘But seriously, Sam – are you really okay?’

Sam untwisted the telephone cord. ‘I’ve been better, but honestly, I’m okay. I’ll be better when you’re back though,’ he added.’

‘I can’t wait. Expect a big kiss in under twenty-four hours.’

‘I’m counting on it.’

Thankfully the knocks stopped, and with thoughts of Anna’s imminent return, Sam began to relax. He powered up the laptop and logged into his email account to read the message that Anna had said she’d sent earlier in the day. Anna’s email was there. But there was also another message that caught his eye, sent just ten minutes ago. The title of the email message read:

The Good Samaritan

And the sender was [email protected]

It was sickening, like an unexpected, winding blow to the stomach.

He opened the message without a second thought. The only text it contained was a link, just like the previous message that had led to the page about Cathy on the dating website. But this time he recognised the website to which the link would take him – YouTube, the popular video sharing site.

He clicked on the link and waited nervously as the page loaded.

The page appeared, revealing a box headed The Good Samaritan. Below the box were video control buttons. Sam clicked on play.

It wasn’t a video; just a black screen. There was sound, but it was too low to make out. Sam turned up the volume to maximum.

‘It’s going to be okay…You’ll be safer staying here.’

It was his voice.

‘Jessica’s in the back.’

And the girl who had claimed to be Alison.

Sam leant into the screen, his world turning around him. Audio from the train crash. But how? ‘What the hell?’

‘Please, God, no…Look away! Look away, please.’

‘Please, help Jessica! She’s in the back! Jessica’s in the back!’

And then the recording ended.

28

Shirley Ainsley heard the door and intercepted her husband before he could reach the stairs. He stood there in the corridor, a pale imitation of the man she loved, just staring at her, swaying slightly, eyes glazed and reeking of beer.

‘Did you have a good night?’ she asked, keeping her tone light, trying to hide her revulsion of what he had become.

He looked at her with a mixture of defiance and embarrassment. It made her feel sad, as this was so unlike him. Eric was her rock, the man who had comforted her after the devastation of the miscarriage, and thirty years later supported her through the frightening battle with cancer. He went to move past her, but this time she wasn’t going to ignore it and let him slope off to bed.

She put a hand on his chest. ‘We have to talk, Eric.’

He shook his head. ‘Not now.’

‘Yes, now,’ she demanded. ‘Otherwise I’m walking out of that door and I might not come back.’

She surprised herself with that comment, but it seemed to shock Eric into instant submission. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Let’s talk.’

They moved into the lounge and took seats opposite one another. Shirley watched as her husband held his head in his hands, wondering whether this was going to be the breakthrough conversation that she so longed for. Until now, she had resisted questioning him while he was drunk, worried that the conversation could spiral out of control. But having got nowhere during his increasingly brief sober hours, she was now desperate enough to take the risk.

‘Do you feel sick?’ she asked. ‘I can fetch a bowl.’

He raised his head. ‘I’m okay.’

Shirley nodded. He looked anything but. ‘I’m really worried about you, Eric. Really worried, about what’s happening.’

He didn’t say anything.

‘Ever since the accident, you’ve not been yourself. I’ve been expecting you to come back to me, to see something of the man I’ve been married to for forty years. But you seem to be getting worse.’

‘I buried my daughter two days ago,’ he shot back, not looking at her.

‘I know,’ she replied. ‘She was my daughter too. That’s why we need to support each other.’

The intensity of Eric’s glare shocked her. His jaw was working overtime, clenching. ‘I’ve always done my best to try and support my family.’

Maybe this was a bad idea. The mixture of alcohol and raw emotion might, as she had feared, lead to something she didn’t want. But it was too late.

‘I know you have,’ she replied. ‘You’re a wonderful husband, father and grandfather. You always have been.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘No, I’m not, I’m…’ He broke down. Shirley had never seen him cry. Not even at the funeral. She moved over to him and placed an arm around his broad shoulders. The same shoulders that many times had carried Jane as a small child, giggling with excitement. He made a move to shrug her off, but relented and instead moved in closer. She just held him for a few minutes.

‘I’ve been thinking more about what happened to Jane,’ she said. ‘The other day, at the funeral, I was running over in my mind what could have happened. I was trying to imagine Jane putting the kids in the car, and driving off, knowing what she was going to do. And then I knew – Jane couldn’t have done that to the children, no matter what state she might have been in. She didn’t kill herself.’

Eric didn’t answer her.

‘I went to see him yesterday. Sam Becker. The man who saved the children; the doctor. I wanted to hear from him what happened.’

‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ Eric replied.

‘But I needed to do something, Eric. Alison is still missing, and I just feel helpless, waiting for something to happen.’

‘What did he say?’

Shirley hesitated. ‘He said he didn’t have anything to do with it. He thought Jane wanted to die.’

Eric shook his head. ‘Why are you doing this?’

The tone of the question stung. ‘Doing what?’

‘Acting like you’re some kind of private detective. You should let the police get on with their job, and not be interfering.’

‘But I have to do something.’

Eric shook his head again as he got to his feet.

‘The girl wasn’t Alison,’ Shirley said, standing and pulling Eric back as he tried to leave the room. ‘He said it definitely wasn’t her. Why would someone else pretend to be Alison?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said, shrugging her off and heading for the door.

‘Maybe it was her boyfriend, Vincent,’ she said. ‘Maybe he killed her.’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ he said, clutching the door for balance.

‘Well where is he?’ she said. ‘He must have heard the news. Why hasn’t he come around here? Why wasn’t he at the funeral?’

‘Because he doesn’t give a shit,’ Eric shot back. ‘He broke up with her, if you remember. The guy just doesn’t care.’

‘You’ve seen him?’

‘No, no, of course not. But Shirley, it’s obvious, can’t you see? He used her. I’m going upstairs.’

‘And what about you?’ she shouted. ‘Do you care? Because it doesn’t look like it from where I’m standing.’

She regretted the accusation immediately.

Eric ignored the comment and left the room.

‘I’m sorry, Eric. I didn’t mean that.’

Shirley pursued him into the landing and watched helplessly as he trudged up the stairs and entered the bathroom. For a minute or so she stayed at the bottom, her eyes focussed on the bathroom door, waiting for him to come out. But when he didn’t, she crept up the stairs and put her head close to the door.