The Night They Vanished, page 16
The goodbye smile I’d conjured up fades at his words and I can’t think of anything to say, so I just turn and walk away. Hanna was pregnant? But… that makes no sense. Did Dad force her to have an abortion? Is that one of the regrets Mr. Garner was on about? Or is that why she left home? But she didn’t have a baby, because if she did, that child would be about fourteen by now and—Oh.
Oh.
Chapter 20
Thedarktourist.com
*EXCLUSIVE QUOTES*
<“They were a strange family”>
<“I’m not surprised they were targeted… living in that creepy place, so isolated”>
HANNA—Sunday 6 p.m.
The journey back to Cardiff passes in silence. I know what’s keeping me quiet—torturing myself over everything Carrie, Lee, and Stephen said, combined with an endless internal rehearsal of what I’m going to say to DC Norton when he gets my message and calls me back. And then there’s Mrs. Thorpe’s comment to Adam… Back again? I chose to sit in the back for the journey home and I’m staring at the back of Adam’s head and he’s turned into a stranger again.
It must be a mistaken identity thing. He would have said if he’d visited my home village before—it’s not exactly a tourist hot spot. But his reaction was off enough for Dee to remark on it… Maybe it was years ago. He did say he’d heard of Littledean, and also that he stayed with Seb’s family when he was at university. But no, that’s ridiculous—I know Mrs. Thorpe is world class at gossip and spotting a stranger-in-town at a hundred paces, but even she wouldn’t say “back again” if he once visited ten bloody years ago.
So, if she wasn’t mistaken, then Adam has visited Littledean recently, and he’s lied to me about it. Which brings us right back to it being Adam who put the story about my family on his website. Because why the hell else would he have gone there? Is he the reason my family fled town overnight?
No. It doesn’t make sense. None of this does. I already feel guilty because I’m going to have to give DC Norton Stephen and Lee’s names, as well as Carrie and Owen’s, which means I’ll be doing exactly what they expected me to do: bringing trouble into their lives. But I have to, don’t I? Stephen lied about Owen still being around and Lee made it obvious he knew where I lived. And Carrie… She was about to say something when Stephen stormed in, I know she was. The police said to report anything suspicious that could connect all this. I close my eyes for a moment. I’m going to have to tell them about Adam as well, about that back again?
I wish I’d just texted Sasha back when she contacted me at the end of last year. If we’d started a proper line of communication, I’d have known they were moving, I’d have known where and when, and none of this would be happening. Why didn’t I? She was taking so many risks just getting hold of a phone and contacting me and I didn’t even bother texting her back. She must have hated me for that. And what’s my excuse? That things between me and Liam were falling apart and I was distracted? Or was it that I believe the messages my father has drummed into me—that Sasha was better off without me? Has he done that good a job on me?
I glance over at Dee and think of all her lectures when I fall into one of my self-hate pits of despair. Yes, it’s pathetic, but I do believe it. And that’s all fine and dandy when it’s only me I’m hurting, but I’ve become such a self-pitying stupid cow, so blindly selfish, I’m now hurting other people.
Well, not anymore. When they find my family, I’m going to insist on seeing Sasha regularly and I don’t care what my father says. When all this is over, Sasha can come and stay with me, get a glimpse of a life away from the walls Dad has surrounded her with. And they will find them, and they will be safe. That woman’s murder, the hit-and-run… they have nothing to do with this. It’s just another way to mess with Adam or with me. And while I’m playing this game, I tell myself Adam cannot possibly have anything to do with this, it’s just the hacker messing with us all… It’s harder to convince myself, though, with Mrs. Thorpe’s back again whispering in my head. But there must be an explanation—an innocent explanation—as to why he’s lied. He’s Seb’s friend. Dee has known him for years as well. I’m going to try to believe he’s just a pawn in this horrible game.
I’m buoyed by my new resolve as Dee turns the corner into her street. But that momentary high is instantly killed when I see a police car outside her building.
The doors of the police car open as we pull up. DC Norton gets out and stands at the entrance to Dee’s building, with a female uniformed officer next to him. His face is solemn, and dread fills me, cementing my feet to the ground so I can’t move and numbing my lips so I can’t speak.
“Hanna? This is PC Conran, she’s a family liaison officer. Can we come inside?”
Chapter 21
Sunday 6:30 p.m.
I think my legs have turned to stone. I can’t move. But then Dee is there, and thank God for Dee, unlocking the front door, ushering them in and up the stairs, taking my arm and coaxing me to move. Seb is already in the doorway of the flat and he and Dee flank me, saying nothing but just being there, as I collapse on the sofa to wait for them to tell me my family is dead. Because why else would they be there? Why else would DC Norton have brought a family liaison officer? She’s here to make tea, keep me company as a murder investigation happens around me. My father. Jen. Sasha…
“What is it? What have you found out?” It’s Adam who speaks, who takes charge when I can’t ask.
“We were able to gain access to your father’s new house,” DC Norton says. “To look for evidence as to where your family might be, or—”
“Are they dead?” I find my voice, but it comes out too loud, that brutal question. My attention goes from him to PC Conran, hovering awkwardly at the edge of the room. “Is that why you’re here? Because you’ve found their bodies?”
My throat tightens and my eyes burn, but I swallow down the rising hysteria. I will not lose it now. I will save that for later, when they’ve gone, when I’m alone.
But DC Norton is shaking his head. “No—Hanna, no, we haven’t found them yet. That’s not why we’re here.” He glances over at his colleague. “But we found… evidence of a disturbance.”
Not dead. Oh. His words sink in slowly. A disturbance?
“We found the house in a similar state to your flat after the break-in.”
“Do you think he’s taken them?” I lean forward. “Whoever hacked Adam’s site, whoever murdered those women? He has my family?”
“Hanna, please. The nearest neighbor lives on the road leading away from the holiday park. We spoke to her and she says she saw them leave in their car yesterday morning. Just the three of them. She heard a car driving along the lane late last night and thought they might have returned. But it was dark so she couldn’t identify the car or who was in it.”
My attention flutters to Adam and away again. Where was he last night?
“That was probably him, wasn’t it? He’s found out where they live and for whatever reason, he’s still looking for them. Did he tear the place apart looking for them?”
“Hanna,” Dee interrupts, touching my arm, “tell them what we found out—about how suddenly they left…”
I don’t like the way DC Norton’s shoulders stiffen as I tell the story, the way PC Conran draws closer and they both look at each other. I tell them about Lee and Stephen as well, give them Carrie and Owen’s names, and feel the guilt pressing down on me. My attention flickers from Adam across to Dee. Do I mention the back again? Stephen Hayes asking, Do I know you? Like he recognized him. Dee shakes her head. Is she reading my mind again? I bite my lip but sit back and don’t mention Adam.
I’m restless after DC Norton leaves. PC Conran has been assigned to lurk outside in the police car and I know what I should do is sit tight and wait. But I can’t. I jump up.
“I’m going to my flat. Tidy up a bit and see if there’s anything I missed. I was in such a state after the break-in… there could be clues I missed.”
“But the police will have found any evidence,” Dee says.
“I don’t mean evidence. I mean… they left those photos, didn’t they? A message, a sign, I don’t know. There could be something else, something the police wouldn’t think was evidence, but I might.”
“I’ll come with you,” Adam says. “You can’t go alone.”
I had actually assumed Dee might come with me. I glance at her and she smiles. “I think Adam might be more of a deterrent if someone’s lurking about. I’ll cook while you’re gone. Some big, comfort-food feast. But come to the kitchen with me a sec—have a look and see what you fancy eating.”
She practically drags me out to the kitchen and starts talking as soon as she closes the door behind us. “I must have been wrong. Mrs. Thorpe must have been wrong. I’ve been thinking about it the whole way back… None of this has anything to do with Adam; it can’t. He and Seb have been friends since their first week at university. If there were anything dodgy about him, Seb would have picked up on it long before now.”
I look at her. “Dee, if there’s one person in this whole world I completely trust, it’s you. And you, obviously, completely trust Seb. But… Adam only moved back here a few months ago. He and Seb were uni friends who’ve lived hundreds of miles from each other ever since. You only have to look at me to see how a person can change in almost ten years. I changed for the better… but what if Adam didn’t?”
“Hanna, I—”
“I’m not saying that he’s done all of this, that he’s a murderer, or that he’s kidnapped my family all by himself. God, I’ve been telling myself that just as you have, that he can’t have anything to do this… But who are his friends—other than Seb, do you know? Who were his friends when he lived in London?” I pause, take a breath. “And when you set up our blind date… was that really all you? Or did Adam manipulate you and Seb into setting it up?”
“Of course not. Han, you know I would never try to set you up with anyone I thought was in any way dodgy. This is Adam. I know the Littledean thing is weird, but there has to be an explanation.”
I glance at the closed kitchen door. Is Adam on the other side, listening?
“I’m trying. I’m trying really hard to believe you, that he’s innocent in all this. But it’s difficult when I know he’s been lying. I will take up your suggestion, though. I will take Adam with me. I’ll be safe enough with the police watching and it’ll give me a chance to ask him about it.”
Chapter 22
Sunday 7 p.m.
I tell PC Conran where we’re going, and she insists on driving us over there in the police car. I lean closer to Adam as we drive, whispering right in his ear so there’s no chance of being overheard. “It’s years since I’ve been in one of these.” I pause. “Not since I lived in Littledean.”
Adam raises his eyebrows and mouths back, “In a police car?”
I nod and lean back, watching his reaction. Either he’s a very good actor or his surprise is genuine. I catch PC Conran watching me in her rearview mirror and feel like a delinquent teenager again. I remember being sick in the back of a police car when I was fourteen, picked up when they found me semiconscious at the side of the road, attempting to find my way back home after a party where I’d lost all my friends.
I think Dad had given up on me by that point. He’d just moved Jen in without discussing it with me—I wasn’t even aware, at the time, that he was seeing anyone. Of course, I found out later that Jen’s predecessor was the reason my mum originally left. But Jen—I just came home from school and there she was, all smiley and Stepford, constantly cleaning and cooking and asking questions, like she thought she could come into my life and be some kind of mother when she was a total stranger. I turn away from the police constable’s eyes in the mirror. It wasn’t Jen’s fault, she didn’t drive my mum away or cause her death, but I blamed her as much as I did my dad, and it wasn’t her fault that the harder she tried, the more irritating I found her.
I reacted by acting up more than ever, not bothering to go home after school, so I didn’t have to try to sneak out. Instead, I’d go and meet Jacob and the others, start partying by four in the afternoon. We’d stopped going to Reverend Garner’s gatherings by then—they weren’t the kind of parties we were looking for.
That night the police brought me home, a vomit-stained drunken mess, Dad didn’t say a word. The curled-lip disgust and silent treatment were actually more effective than the screaming fury of the good old days. I remember I cried that night, anyway. I also remember when I got out of the shower, eyes red and throat raw from crying, Jen had left warm towels and freshly washed pajamas outside the bathroom and a cup of hot chocolate in my room. But I also remember the next day, I got up and did it all again. I never wanted that for Sasha, that misery disguised as rebellion. It’s why I’ve always done what Dad asked and kept my distance from her. And it seemed to be working—Sasha never acted out, she had the stability of two parents at home, even if Dad was over-the-top strict. He seemed to have found, with Jen, whatever was missing in his relationship with my mother. And Jen—well, I might have always found her too much, but I can’t deny she must be a pretty good mother to have in your life full time.
I glance across at Adam. My track record with men is pretty crap, but there’s something… I want to trust him. I want to trust that feeling deep in my gut that tells me he is genuinely clueless about how my family ended up on his website. But there’s something he’s not telling me… If I can get to the bottom of that, then maybe I’ll be able to let go of the doubt.
“Here we are,” PC Conran says, stopping the car. “I’ll wait here, call in where we are. How long will you be?”
“Not long,” I say. “No more than an hour.” I’m already regretting it. We should have stayed at Dee’s, helped her cook the comfort-food feast. My flat, my bizarre cut-in-half house, is no longer my sanctuary. I can’t imagine ever feeling safe here again, even when this is all over. Maybe I’ll sell it. Look for somewhere with two bedrooms, so I can have Sasha to stay.
I switch on all the lights as I walk through the flat, even in rooms I don’t plan to enter. Without the shock of that first discovery, the flat isn’t actually that bad. The bedroom is the worst when I reluctantly go upstairs. Not because it’s been trashed, but because of that neatly made bed. It’ll have to go. If I can ever bring myself to live here again, it’ll all have to go, not just the bedding. I avoid looking at it as I open my wardrobe and take clothes off hangers, stuffing them into a bag. There’s not much to take—most of my stuff has been pulled out and scattered across the room. I go to the drawers of my dresser, trying not to think of strange hands rummaging through them as I top up the bag with underwear and T-shirts. There’s no sign any of it has been touched, but I know I’ll be washing everything before I wear any of it.
My hands brush the corner of a box as I reach to the back of the top drawer for more socks. I reach further in and pull it out. It’s a carved wooden box that Jacob gave me for my fifteenth birthday. I’ve always kept it tucked away, first from my dad, so I didn’t have to explain where it came from, and later because it became the box I hid things in. Mostly hiding them from myself. Letters and photos and documents I don’t want reminders of. This box is where Hanna between the ages of fifteen and twenty has been buried, the period of my life I’d like to forget.
The problem is, locking those years in a box doesn’t banish them from existence, does it? I perch on the edge of my dressing-table stool and lift the lid of the box. It doesn’t look as if anything has been disturbed, so I don’t think either the burglar or the police have looked in here. Photos, letters, papers all still in their neat bundles tied with different color ribbons. I don’t undo any of the ribbons. Opening the box is as far as I’m prepared to go. But I don’t put the box back in the drawer—I add it to the pile of clothes in my bag.
I hear a noise from downstairs and whirl round, my heart thudding.
“It’s only me,” Adam calls and I calm down.
I pick up the bag and go back downstairs without looking back.
“So what number date is this?” Adam asks as we form a relay system—him picking up books from the floor and passing them to me, me putting them back on shelves.
“What?” I’m only half-listening to him as we tidy the books away—too busy trying to work out how to ask what I need to ask.
“What do you think—third, fourth date?” He raises an eyebrow and smiles.
“Let’s see… we had first drinks plus bonus creepy abandoned house,” I answer, playing along. “Then me screaming accusations at you in your flat…”
“Third date was our joint trip to the police station.”
“Fourth was finding my flat broken into, followed by drinks,” I say.
“Fifth was you taking me back to your charming home town.”
“So, is this the sixth? Or a continuation of the fourth? The broken-into flat, part two?”
“Hmmm… I’m going to call this number six—same venue, but different vibe.”
I nod. “There’s certainly a bit of a theme going on, though, I think.”
“It’s definitely progressing along a different path to what I expected,” Adam says.
“You mean, this isn’t how all your relationships go?”
“I’m a bit out of practice, but I’m sure date six is usually when I pull out the big guns—cooking my finest Thai curry at home; wine, candles, the works.”
I sigh. “I like Thai food.”
He smiles. “I promise, when this is all over, when they’ve found your family safe and sound and caught whoever is doing this, I will cook it for you.”
I frown and stare at him, searching his face for… what? Guilt? “Do you think they will? Find my family—safe, I mean?”
He nods. “I do. I really do. Even if our hacker killer had planned something awful, he seems to be out of sync with them. He was at your old house after they’d moved, at the new one after they’d gone away. I think the police will find them before he does.”
