Silent Winter, page 14
A crowbar, the Watchman decided, or a tyre lever. Snatched from the boot of her abuser’s car.
He dragged his tongue over dry lips. ‘You didn’t come home afterwards.’ She made no response.
‘I have to know. Why did you abandon me?’ But she was lost to him, her eyes vacant.
‘Crystal,’ she whispered. ‘That’s what my Eddie calls me. Such a pretty name, don’t you think?’
He’d probably never find out. Maybe she’d considered it too risky to return home, given her abuser’s violent streak. Or, more likely, she hadn’t cared enough. Instead, she’d escaped to London, where she drank and whored her life away. His mother had died years ago, just not in the way he’d always believed.
Rage seized him. He leaned over the bed, staring at her ruined face. So easy to end her miserable existence. Pinch her nose shut, clamp a hand over her mouth. He’d be doing the sad cow a favour.
He could imagine what Rick would say. The little runt’s whiny voice sounded in his head. ‘Don’t kill her. Please.’
‘Fuck off, you wuss.’ The Watchman’s hands reached towards his mother. Do it, just do it....
The sound of the drugs trolley’s wheels scraping the floor snapped him back to reality. A busy hospital ward, people all around him. Not the best place to commit murder. Better for the bitch to rot in some care home, end her life incontinent and bedridden. Alone and friendless, the way her son had always been. He was done with her.
The Watchman was halfway to the exit before he remembered. He was far from finished with his mother. He strode back to her bed, yanked out the chair and sat down.
CHAPTER 38
Drew screamed. Around him the blackness closed in, ready to suffocate him with inky fingers. The stench of urine and faeces assaulted his nostrils, along with the whiff of that day’s sandwich. Crumbs of bread and cheese were stuck to the cling-film he clutched in his hand. The taste of the stale water he’d drunk lingered in his mouth. Around his wrists and ankles his shackles lay heavy and cold. He’d been abandoned; he was alone, and would be forever. No hope of escape existed. His solitude gnawed into his soul until terror filled his skull. He shrieked even louder.
Strong hands held him down. He’d been wrong, it seemed. He wasn’t by himself in the Black Hole. But who was with him? Why hadn’t he heard them enter?
‘Easy, Drew,’ a voice said. Warm breath drifted against his ear. ‘You’re safe now.’
The flashback receded. Drew found himself staring into the face of John, one of his nurses. He grew aware of the harsh panting that burst from his chest, the sweat that trickled down his forehead. Behind John, he saw the open door to his room, the colours and shapes around him, and the tension drained from his body. He was in hospital. Safe. No more Black Hole.
‘Sorry,’ he gasped, ashamed of his weakness.
‘Bad dream?’ John enquired, his tone sympathetic, and Drew nodded. Close enough.
John offered him sleeping medication, asked whether he needed his bedpan. Drew shook his head to both. Once the man had left, he lay back against his pillows, questions throbbing through his brain. In his flashback, who had brought him the sandwich? The musty-tasting water? A memory teased him, yet remained out of reach. A man he’d feared, who’d promised he’d make Drew suffer.
Don’t dwell on him, he told himself. Think of your wife. Your brother.
Except that Holly also seemed elusive. She’d kissed him, said she loved him, yet he sensed his wife was concealing something. But what?
Todd, then. Drew searched his memory. His brother’s visit had dredged Nessa from its depths, along with Shane and Jack, but did he have any other family?
Two names surfaced. Melody and Hal Reynolds. Drew knew they’d raised him, that he’d loved them. That they’d met a tragic end, although the details were hazy. Something didn’t fit, though. His surname was Blackmore. Then he remembered. Auntie Mel was his mother’s sister, Uncle Hal her husband. So where were his parents?
Drew dug way down into his brain, summoned up a woman, frail and gaunt, her face betraying the ravages of cancer. His father proved more difficult. Drew couldn’t recall his features, or even his name. He knew one thing: he had adored the man.
He buried his face into the pillow, fear deep in his gut. What if he never remembered?
Todd would know. Todd could tell him everything tomorrow.
HOLLY SAT RIGID WITH disbelief at what Todd had said, once DS Tucker had left. ‘Why am I only hearing this now?’ she asked.
Her brother-in-law spread his palms wide in appeasement. ‘Drew buried the abuse Ian Morrison inflicted on him deep inside. He made me swear never to tell anyone. If it hadn’t been for DS Tucker’s insistence, I’d have kept that promise.’
Hurt filled Holly. What else had her husband concealed?
‘Either you or Drew should have told me.’ Her mouth compressed itself into a thin line of anger. ‘I’m his wife, for God’s sake. Didn’t I have a right to know?’
‘No.’
The vehemence in Todd’s tone startled Holly. She stared at him in shock.
‘It wasn’t my story to tell. Only Drew’s.’
‘But—’
‘You ever been sexually abused?’
She shook her head, unable to speak.
‘Then you have no right to judge him.’
A tear slipped down Holly’s cheek. ‘I guess not.’
‘You weren’t there. I was. When he turned ten Drew spent hours in his room, wouldn’t talk to anyone. Nobody knew why.’ Todd’s eyes were stones of anger. ‘Eventually he told me, and I spoke to Auntie Mel. She called the police. They found horrible photos on Morrison’s computer. Dozens of different boys, including Drew, all suffering unspeakable things. The cops never identified some of them.’ Fury filled his voice.
‘How long did the abuse go on?’
‘Two years. My brother endured hell at that man’s hands. The bastard said he’d track him down, make him suffer, if he told anyone.’
‘What happened to Morrison?’
‘He got a twelve-year jail sentence. As well as his come-uppance.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘A gang attacked him in the showers. Kiddy-fiddlers don’t do great in prison, remember. The fucker lost a testicle, but the surgeon managed to save his dick. Shouldn’t have bothered, in my opinion.’
Holly did the maths. Drew’s abuser had completed his prison term two years ago. Ian Morrison must have been the guy who abducted Drew, made him suffer, the way he’d once threatened.
‘How did Drew cope with Morrison’s release?’ she asked.
‘He told me he felt pretty safe, despite his fear of the man. Bristol’s big enough to ensure anonymity, and Drew as an adult looks very different to how he did as a twelve-year-old.’ Todd shook his head. ‘I suspected he wasn’t as unconcerned as he made out, though.’
Holly agreed. Drew had needed to pretend, because he’d chosen not to confide in her, right? The realisation hurt, but she thrust aside her pain. Drew mattered more.
I can’t bear to think of what he’s suffered.’ A sob choked Holly’s throat. Todd pushed back his chair, walking round beside her. He wrapped his arms around her, and that simple gesture, so missed during their estrangement, brought tears to her eyes.
‘It’s okay, Hols,’ he whispered into her hair. ‘We’ll get Drew through this, don’t you worry.’
Later that evening, after she’d returned home, Holly called her mother. In between sobs, she’d outlined the horrors Drew had endured. By the time she’d finished, Karen was also in tears.
‘We’ll fly over on the next available flight,’ she informed her daughter.
Holly wasn’t sure how to respond. ‘I need time alone with Drew,’ she managed at last.
Her mother understood, as Holly had known she would. ‘If that’s what you want, sweetheart. Drew will require a lot of support, though. If I can help, just call.’
‘I will, Mum.’ Somehow the burden on Holly’s shoulders weighed lighter after their conversation.
Afterwards she lay in bed, unable to sleep. Drew’s wounds might never heal, and if they did, the scars would run deep.
She adored her husband. But would her love be sufficient to pull him through?
As though in answer, Drew’s child stirred within her for the first time, and Holly gasped in awe. She’d felt a soft flutter of tiny limbs, wonderful beyond words. Tenderness for her unborn baby flooded her, along with resolve.
Everything will be all right, she reassured herself. It has to be.
THE NEXT MORNING HOLLY sat beside Drew’s bed, gathering her courage for what she needed to tell him. Her husband hadn’t spoken since her arrival, just stared at her with dull eyes, then glanced away. Undeterred, she reached for his hand and squeezed it tight. Oh, darling, she longed to say. You’ve endured hell, and more than once. I wish you’d told me about the man who abused you. Don’t shut me out. Please.
Holly trailed her fingers down his cheek, saddened by how dry and old his skin felt. Still he didn’t look at her. She leaned in, pressed a kiss on his temple. ‘I love you.’
He looked at her then, with his dead gaze, and Holly’s gut clenched with fear. How could she burden him further with the news he’d soon be a father? Drew could barely cope with being alive. The added pressure might break him. How she wished she’d asked her mother’s advice about this.
For a second, his hand pressed hers, and hope replaced fear in her heart. He had a right to know she was pregnant, and besides, Holly reasoned, he might even be pleased. A baby could offer the fresh start he needed. She pictured Drew cradling their child, love in his face as he rocked it in his arms. The way he’d been with Shane and Jack. What a great dad he’d make. Fatherhood would force Drew to confront his demons, which would be good, right? She had only to open her mouth and speak.
She planned to say nothing about Ian Morrison. Drew’s silence on the subject hurt her, but Todd had helped her understand his reasons. Once DS Tucker arrested Morrison, Drew’s abuse would no longer be a secret anyway. That particular can of worms could remain unopened for a while.
Meanwhile she needed to stop procrastinating. The time would never be right to inform Drew he’d soon be a father, so she’d better get it over with. As though offering reassurance, the baby kicked inside her.
She sucked in a breath. He’d shifted away from her again.
‘Drew.’ Holly’s voice came out hoarse. ‘Look at me. Please.’
He turned his dead eyes on her. Hope shrivelled within Holly, but she steeled herself.
‘I have something to tell you,’ she said. He didn’t respond. Disappointment pooled in her gut.
Sometimes actions spoke better than words. Holly stood up, slipping her coat from her shoulders. Underneath she wore a sweatshirt and yoga trousers, their fabric stretched over her bulge, making her pregnancy obvious. She waited, assessing his reaction.
Holly watched Drew’s eyes travel over her belly. Realisation flooded his face, but his expression remained inscrutable. Beyond the open door the ward rumbled with life, with voices, yet Drew stayed silent. Anguish swept over Holly. He didn’t want their baby.
‘Drew,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper. ‘I’m pregnant with your child. Don’t you care?’
‘How many months?’ She shrank at his hard tone.
‘Five.’ She watched him do the maths.
‘Did you know?’ he said. ‘At the time I went missing?’
Holly nodded, a stone heavy in her heart. ‘I couldn’t tell you, not back then. You were so adamant that we should wait, but the truth is different, isn’t it? You just don’t want children.’ Maybe she should mention Morrison. If the abuse had damaged Drew’s desire for kids, help was available. Books, support groups, counselling...
‘You were on the pill.’ Was that accusation in his voice?
‘It’s not a hundred per cent effective.’ She stumbled over the words. Did he suspect her of deceit? ‘Not if you’re sick. Remember that time I got ill after eating those prawns? I never planned this, Drew.’
‘I wish I’d known.’ Sadness filled his tone. ‘I’d have fought harder. Against the blackness. The silence.’
‘What are you saying?’
Drew closed his eyes, shutting her out. ‘You’re wrong. I want children, always have.’
‘Then why—?’
‘Some things I remember, although a lot’s still a blank.’ He released a long breath, pain in his expression. ‘We argued, didn’t we? Before I left for work, on the day I was abducted.’
Holly couldn’t respond. The words she’d flung at him had been shameful. If you won’t have kids with me, I need to reconsider our marriage.
‘All that day at work I thought about what you’d said. I planned to tell you I was ready to be a father. The night I got abducted.’ He shook his head. ‘Not anymore, though.’
Holly’s throat closed over with hurt. Inside her, the baby lay still, perhaps sensing its father’s rejection.
‘I’ve seen twice over how fucked up the world can be. Bringing a child into it is a bad idea.’
‘Twice over? What do you mean?’ Was Drew about to open up about Morrison?
Panic crept into her husband’s face. ‘Nothing. Forget I said that.’
A cocktail of emotions swirled inside Holly. Sadness, anger, but most of all disappointment. Then Todd’s words—you have no right to judge him—floated back to her. Stop being selfish, she chided herself. Time, and patience, would heal Drew. All she had to do was love him. And she did—so very much.
‘I should go,’ she said. Visiting hours had ended five minutes ago. When he didn’t respond, Holly walked towards the door, her eyes awash with tears.
CHAPTER 39
Back in Bristol, the Watchman slumped in his chair, his gaze roaming around the unfamiliar room. As planned, he’d moved address before visiting his mother, his new home secured with cash and by using a false ID and fake references. It was, he reflected, extraordinarily easy to buy a different identity. He was sure the police wouldn’t find him a second time.
He closed his eyes, mentally drained. So much had happened since he’d concocted his scheme for revenge. The way he’d found Ethan Parker. Followed by Drew’s abduction. Then his release.
‘Didn’t I warn you?’ Rick said, unusually defiant. ‘If you’d let me talk to the cops, like I suggested, you wouldn’t be in this mess.’
For once the Watchman didn’t tell him to shut his mouth. The little bastard was right. Actions had consequences, after all.
‘What are you going to do about Drew Blackmore?’ Rick asked.
Good question. The Watchman intended to keep a close eye on his former captive while he recovered. Once the hospital discharged Drew, the Watchman would make his move. No rush; instead, he’d bide his time. What was that weird old saying? Softly, softly, catchee monkey. He intended to proceed very softly indeed.
Like before, Drew would never see him coming. The outcome, though, would be very different.
The Watchman grinned. ‘I’ve unfinished business with him. And this time around my plans include Todd.’
CHAPTER 40
Holly’s revelation had stunned Drew. He barely knew which way was up, without the added burden of impending fatherhood. The world was no place for children. Evil lurked everywhere. Nowhere was safe.
Best not to think about the baby. Besides, the police hadn’t yet left, although Matthew Thomas had requested a ten-minute break on his patient’s behalf. Drew’s fingers moved restlessly over the blanket on his bed, his gaze on DS Tucker and DC Tobin. Beside them was DC Jessica Smith, the Family Liaison Officer assigned to his case. Tucker glanced up, catching his eye. ‘Are you ready to start again? Or do you need more time?’
Drew shrugged, desperate for the oblivion of sleep. He wanted them gone. ‘Let’s get on with it.’
‘You’ve told us what you remember about the man who came into your prison. Dark hair, pale eyes, a scar through his top lip.’ She paused.
Impatience surged through Drew. ‘Do you know who he is? Why won’t you tell me his name?’
‘Because it may be difficult for you to hear.’ She leaned forward. ‘How much do you recall about your childhood?’
Uncle Hal, kicking a football towards him. Auntie Mel, baking chocolate brownies. His mother, her face fuzzy in his head. His father, known only through his signet ring. Not much, he thought.
‘More’s returning every day. But a lot’s still a blur.’ A layer of thick gauze lay between him and his memories. Terror lurked in his mind, but he couldn’t name it.
Until DS Tucker did. ‘Do you recall a man named Ian Morrison?’
The gauze lifted, and the horror became real. The monster from Drew’s past seized him, dragged him back to the slime of years before. The cloying stink of Morrison’s aftershave, masking his garlic breath. That scarred lip, those yellow teeth. His hands, rough and insistent as they shoved Drew to his knees. The sound of a zipper being pulled down.
This can’t be happening... please don’t make me do this... I don’t want to...
A hand pushing his head towards the man’s crotch. Then the command. ‘Suck me, boy.’
Horror filled his ten-year-old self. Inside his skull he screamed words his mouth couldn’t. I’ll choke... can’t breathe... somebody help me...
Help never came.
DREW FIRST MET MORRISON through his uncle; the two men were golfing buddies. He said hello, uncomfortable at how the man’s gaze raked over him when Hal Reynolds turned his back. Something dirty had smeared itself on him, and he’d never wash off the stain.
A week later, Morrison accosted Drew after he’d left school for the day. Too scared to protest, Drew found himself being led to the nearby park, at one end of which stood a dense grove of trees. A two-year-long nightmare began that afternoon. One that turned his soul ancient.
Afterwards Morrison asked him if he’d enjoyed their encounter. Our special secret, he’d called it. Too frightened to demur, Drew had said yes.
