The Taken (10 page)

Humming, she damped a cloth and wiped it over the wooden table. Maybe she’d even start the book before the washing was done. Sure, if she tried she could find a few more jobs around the house to do to fill the time—the bathroom, for one, always seemed to need cleaning, but she figured it would still be there tomorrow, and today she felt like having a lazy, indulgent day to herself.

The kettle finished its bubbling and she poured it over the bag, letting it soak for a moment or two before pinching it out between her forefinger and thumb, ignoring the heat, and dropping it quickly into the bin. Promising herself that she wouldn’t touch it for at least an hour, she grabbed the large bar of Dairy Milk from

93

the fridge and padded into the lounge, sinking into the well-worn couch. This was going to be bliss.

She had only finished the first chapter when her attention was distracted by the sound of something coming from above. What was that? It wasn’t the banging she’d heard earlier; this was something else, like a voice. Putting the book down, she listened to the noises of her house. From the kitchen came the quiet whirring of the washing machine, but apart from that there was nothing. For once, even the creaks in the old wood and brick had subsided.

And then she heard it again. Was it laughter? Putting the book down, she stood up and frowned. Maybe Laura had brought the Granville kids around to play, but it wasn’t like her not to say hello on her way in. And Laura was polite. She’d have asked her if it was okay, even though she knew that Kay was never likely to say no.

Leaving the lounge, she went into the hall and called up from the bottom of the stairs. “Laura? Is that you?”

It was gloomier in the heart of the house, with no large windows to allow in even the gray light from outside, and as the silence came back at her, Kay fought the temptation to flick the light switch. That would just be stupid and silly. It would be like admitting she was feeling nervous in her own house. And she wasn’t. She definitely wasn’t. Still staring upward, she saw a shadow darting across the landing. It was so fast she almost thought she’d imagined it.

Maybe it was a cat that had got in somehow to escape from the rain.

Annoyed at her own inaction, she climbed the stairs, ignoring the familiar creaks, and took a few steps across the landing. “Laura?”

94

From somewhere behind the spare room door she heard a giggle. “Laura, this isn’t funny.” For the first time she felt a tingle of fear creep up from her toes.

What was this? Although she was calling her daughter’s name, she knew in her blood that it wasn’t Laura up here giggling and playing games. Laura was a good girl.

The lilting voice danced out from the doorway. “As I was going up the stair, I met a girl who wasn’t there.” Behind the voice came a little girl, no more than ten or eleven, and staring at her. Kay’s heart froze. It wasn’t Laura. It definitely wasn’t Laura; this was a very different little girl, and one that Kay knew. She had once known her too well. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be. But it is. It’s Melanie Parr. Melanie Parr was dead and gone. Gone a long time ago, lost in the storm. Not hearing her own moan, Kay took a step backward, her eyes trapped staring at the perfect blond hair, and the kiltstyle pleated skirt, and then the high white socks, one red shoe on, and one foot bare.

The Melanie that couldn’t be smiled at her, white teeth sparkling in the gloom, and took one pace forward. “I saw that girl again today.” She tilted her head and pouted, mocking Kay’s fear. “I wish… I wish she’d go away.” She paused to giggle that hollow laugh, and it seemed to fill Kay’s head. “Do you wish I’d go away, Kay? Don’t you want to play with me anymore?”

Kay shuffled further backward. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. It was the storm bringing back memories, that’s what it was, or maybe she was getting the flu and a fever, or maybe she had fallen asleep down on the sofa and this was all a very, very bad dream. The tears that were filling her eyes felt real, though. And staring at the girl in front of her, she didn’t feel like 95

a woman nearly forty, she felt like she was a child again, small and always scared.

Melanie slowly waggled a raised finger. “Tut-tut, Kay Keeler.” The smile and tilt to her head remained, and Kay groaned again. Keeler. She hadn’t been Kay Keeler for such a very long time. “You told. You told on me and look what you did.”

They seemed to stare at each other for an age, Kay’s eyes swimming with tears, and then from behind Melanie, from the doorways to the spare room and the bathroom, four more children appeared, one girl and three boys, their faces serious, their clothes, unlike Melanie’s, muddy and damp. One of the boys was carrying what looked like Phil’s fishing box, the size of it too big for the child, who could only have been about six years old. This dream was getting too real, and she wanted it over. “You don’t exist,” she mumbled to herself and to the gang of children in front of her. “You don’t exist.”

Melanie’s smile stretched into a grin, and behind her the other dark-haired girl slyly giggled.

“Oh, but we do, Kay. We live in the storm with the Catcher Man. I’ve had such adventures with him, you wouldn’t believe. And I’ve gotten oh so strong.” She took a long stride forward and Kay yelped, reaching behind her for the banister to guide her to the stairs.

“And now I’ve come back to play. And your mummy’s not around to run to anymore.

I’m going to play with you all, Kay. I’ve already started, and now it’s your turn.”

Kay felt her feet tangling up under her, misjudging the distance between herself and the top step, and she called out as she tumbled, hands reaching frantically for the banisters as she rolled painfully past them. Her 96

shoulder cracked against the wall and pain roared through her, stars shooting across her eyes. If this was a dream, then surely she should wake up now. Surely she should.

Above her, Melanie looked like a kaleidoscope of color as she stood at the top of the stairs. “Shall we play fishing?”

Hitting the hard wooden floor head first, Kay’s world went black.

97

Alex had stayed in the church while Paul and Simon went to the graveyard to collect Reverend Barker, and although she was glad not to have to see his broken body up close again, she was happy when the two men appeared in the doorway. The church was giving her the creeps standing inside on her own, and looking at the vandalized altar, she couldn’t help but feel as if the old building were accusing her of something. It was stupid, but she still felt relieved not to be alone anymore.

“I guess this is as good a place to put him as any.” Paul looked pale as he lowered his end of the awkward bundle onto the ground in front of the first pew and Alex was pleased that the altar rug covered most of the body. She didn’t need to look into his eyes again. Listening to the thud when Simon let go of the weight, Alex wondered if rigor mortis had set in yet. Or maybe he’d been through that and was coming out the other side? The morbid thoughts were unpleasant, but 98

she couldn’t stop herself. Maybe summer flies had already laid their eggs on him. It was funny how much she’d discovered about death these days. As if knowledge of its processes would somehow cause a miracle and she’d escape it.

Yeah right. That pain running through your bones isn’t getting any better, is it? She stared again at the bundle on the floor. A few months tops, and I’ll be seeing you, Reverend.

“It didn’t look like anyone else had been round there.” Simon wiped the water from his glasses. “The body was untouched as far as I could tell.”

“Good,” Alex said. “However odd those children were we saw this morning, it wouldn’t be nice for them to find something like this. Hardly what you want on your holiday.”

“Is this written in wax?” Paul was staring down at the altar, color returning to his face. “What does it mean?”

Alex shrugged. “I’m not sure. It seems familiar, like I’ve heard it before, but I don’t know where.” She looked up at her cousin. “Do you think it could be related to that Melanie Parr girl?”

Paul’s brow furrowed instantly. “Why would it have anything to do with her?” His tone was sharp and there was a slight hesitancy over the first word that hinted at his stutter.

“Well, her name was what Reverend Barker was trying to say when he died. Her name and then something about warning people. Surely there must be a link to these words.”

“Or it could have just been the last rantings of a stark raving mad suicide.

Have you considered that?” He spat the words at her and Alex recoiled slightly.

What the

99

hell was the matter with him? Why did he get so defensive every time that missing girl’s name was mentioned?

“Yes.” She kept her own voice cool. “Of course I have.”

“Look, I’m sure you two can manage to lock this place up by yourselves. I’ll walk down to the doctor’s and let him know what we’ve done. He may need to come and see the body or something.” He was calmer, but Paul still couldn’t meet Alex’s gaze. “I’ll meet you back at The Rock.” Nodding to Simon, he scurried back up the aisle and out into the rain.

Simon raised an eyebrow at Alex and she shrugged in return. It seemed that his friend had noticed Paul’s strange behavior too.

“So, where do you think we’ll find the keys?” Simon was obviously polite enough not to want to talk about Paul, and Alex liked that. “I checked his pockets outside, but they were empty.”

Alex nodded past the choir seats. “He’s got a small office out at the back past the vestry.” It didn’t seem like that long ago that she and Ian had sat in there and chatted with the vicar over their plans for the wedding. Bitterness tugged at her heart. Who was she kidding? It was four years and a lifetime ago. So much for “till death us do part.” It turned out that her beloved didn’t want to hang around for that bit. Sniffing, she pulled herself up tall. Screw him. Those days were gone. Long gone.

She led the way, warning Simon to duck through the low doorway as they found the vicar’s office. After the cool emptiness of the church, the cluttered room seemed cozy and warm.

100

“There they are.” Alex pointed to the large bunch of keys sitting on the desk.

Picking them up, Simon paused. “Hey, come and look at this.”

“What?”

“Look at the stuff on his desk.”

Coming alongside him, Alex stared. A pad of paper was open with various notes written on it. At the top was the coming Sunday’s date, and the bland scribblings on the sheet were obviously the beginnings of his sermon. The pen was placed on the sheet, cap still off, not neatly stacked with all the other pens in the tray, as if he’d been disturbed by something. Her eyes flicked across. Next to the pad was an open packet of bourbon cookies, and next to that was a mug, half full of cold tea.

Alex looked back up at Simon. “Well, I’m no policeman, but this hardly looks like the desk of a man about to commit suicide.”

Simon nodded. “I agree. Even the way the keys were on the desk. It looks like he came in here to do some work, and then something disturbed him. I don’t think he killed himself at all.”

Staring once again at all the evidence in front of her, Alex couldn’t help but agree. With what she knew about the reverend, she hadn’t really believed that he’d commit suicide anyway, but now, after seeing his office, she was doubly sure. But it did leave an uneasy feeling in her gut. “If he didn’t kill himself, then what the hell happened to him?”

Sighing, Simon perched on the edge of the desk. “Well, that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?” He paused. “This whole thing seems really odd to me.”

“How do you mean?” Alex pulled out the desk chair 101

and sat down, letting her grateful limbs rest. Tiredness had become a way of life, but the stress of the past day on top of it was taking its toll.

“Well, for a start, this Melanie Parr business. Don’t you think it’s odd that you didn’t know anything about it?”

She shrugged. “She went missing before I was born.”

“That doesn’t matter. I would have thought that this was a pretty sleepy village, and something like that would have been talked about for years, wouldn’t it? It just seems weird to me that no one even mentioned it to you.”

“The country can be like that, Simon. Strange things happen out here. People are different than in the city. Out here we just get on with it, if you know what I mean.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. But then your aunt being convinced that Melanie Parr spoke to her yesterday and then the vicar saying her name before he died and the way Paul reacts every time her name is mentioned. …” His voice trailed off. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

Alex stared at him, her voice soft as she thought aloud. “I do. It’s like they’re all scared of her. Scared of her memory, at any rate. But why would they all be scared of a child that went missing all that time ago? It doesn’t make sense.”

Simon smiled slightly. “No, it doesn’t, but nothing’s making sense.” He paused.

“And I can’t talk about things being strange.”

“What do you mean?”

He looked awkward, as if he’d started saying something and now regretted it.

“You’ll think I’m crazy.”

102

Alex laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Trust me, I won’t think you’re crazy. I saw a little boy at the church gate that disappeared into thin air, remember?” God, if he only knew the rest. He’d think she was barking. “Go on.

What’s bothering you?”

“It’s about the children, actually. Something that I know can’t be right, but I just can’t shift it from my head.” He sighed. “You know those two kids we saw out in the rain this morning and I said that one of them seemed familiar?”

Alex nodded. “Go on.”

“Well, it’s been bugging me all morning, and it was only thinking about Melanie Parr that it suddenly came to me. Where I’d seen his face before.”

“You’re just beating about the bush now. Get on with it!” Alex smiled, trying to put him at ease.

“I did some research for a series of articles on a missing child once. You know, other kids that had gone missing in similar circumstances. The final piece wasn’t very good and never made it into the paper, but I did do some work on it.