The Night They Vanished, page 18
He storms in and I watch him stop dead as he takes in the chaos.
“This is why you’re being questioned. Because someone did this to my home. Because my family is missing, and two women have been murdered, and it all seems to be connected to me.”
“What—wait… Two women have been murdered?” He goes pale. “And you told the police it was me?”
“For God’s sake—no, I didn’t.” I yell the last words. I’m suddenly glad he’s here, glad there’s someone I can take my anger out on. “They just wanted to know about any assholes in my life capable of making trouble and you were top of the bloody list. Plus, you’re the only other person with a key, so why you were trying to kick my door in, I’ve no idea.”
He looks so taken aback by my raging fury that I realize it’s the first time I’ve ever raised my voice to him. In the scant few months of our pathetic excuse for a relationship, I never shouted at him, never got angry even when he treated me like total crap.
And that realization makes me all the more mad, but it also makes me oh so sad, and the two battle for ascendency as I watch Liam gather himself up and settle himself back into poor-me affronted-outrage mode.
“God, you really are pathetic, Hanna—using all this as an opportunity to get back at me. I gave you that key back, you know I did.”
I laugh. “Get back at you? Oh, get over yourself. And you did not give the key back, you bloody liar. Plus, I can assure you that you are very far down on the list of people I’m thinking about right now. I wouldn’t waste the energy.”
“You wasted enough weeping on my doorstep after we broke up. Sitting outside my girlfriend’s flat in your car. Did you really think we couldn’t see you?”
I take a breath at the contempt in his voice and sink back into a chair. I stare at Liam, this man who made me so miserable, standing there in his band T-shirt, with his scruffy long hair and tattoos, all self-righteous anger. I stare at him and finally realize the power he had over me is nothing to do with him at all. Liam is just the last in a line of over-grown Indie boys I’ve gone out with in the last decade. Boys and men who, really, are all just poor imitations of Jacob. All I’ve done since I was twenty, when I began the long climb out of the pit I was in, is go out with versions of my childhood boyfriend and let them treat me like shit. I’ve let them cheat on me, steal from me, gaslight me, verbally abuse me, hit me… I flinch at the memories of that one. And I’ve stood there, head bowed, and let them do it because I felt I deserved it.
Because of my guilt. Because Jacob died. Because it’s my fault Jacob died. I’m not the “tragic Juliet” from Adam’s story. I’m the fucking poison that killed poor Romeo.
Chapter 25
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly to Liam and I can see I’ve wrong-footed him.
I’m not apologizing to him, of course. I’m apologizing to Jacob and once again I’m floored by that terrible mix of guilt and grief that sent me spiraling out of control all those years ago. It’s not as raw, but I’ll never stop being sorry. Still, I do want to stop punishing myself.
Liam shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable, Hanna, you really are. Claire went nuts when the police turned up. But we told them the truth—how you’re nothing but a desperate stalker, how you’re obsessed and won’t leave me alone.” He pauses, smooths back his hair. His stupid, studenty, straggly hair that he’s ten years too old for. “I told them you probably slashed the tire yourself.”
Great. Bloody great. I stand up—he doesn’t step back, carries on invading my space so I put my hands on his skinny sparrow chest and shove him away. “Just fuck off, Liam, you stupid shit. Stalker? You have to be kidding me—I do not want to ever see you again. Now give me back my key and fuck off.” My voice rises to a shout and the living-room door flies open, Adam appearing in the doorway, out of breath with a plastic bag swinging from one hand.
“Are you okay? Your car’s outside—you left your door open.”
Looking at Adam standing next to Liam, I realize something else. I went out with Liam and all the previous Liams thinking they were all I deserved, thinking they were ghosts of Jacob, but they’re not, not really. Not at all. Because yes, Jacob had long hair and tattoos, he was the pierced, scruffy rocker boy of my dad’s nightmares, but he wasn’t—never was—a loser, a cheater, an abuser. Beyond a bit of teenage drinking, a bit of drug experimentation, Jacob was nice. He was a nice boy.
He was more like Adam than Liam, and maybe that’s why I’ve always run so far from the nice boys. Because I destroy nice boys.
“Did you follow me?” I say to Adam.
“I’d borrowed Seb’s car to find you. And I wanted to make sure you got back to theirs safely,” he says. “But then you drove the wrong way. I got caught by a red light, but I took a guess you were coming here and then when I got here and saw your car…”
I stare at Adam, who is doing a perfect impression of the nicest of nice boys. But is it real?
“And who the fuck is this?”
Oh, yes. Liam. I’d forgotten he was here for a second.
“Oh, I’m sorry, where are my manners?” I say, as if we were at a dinner party, rather than standing in my destroyed living room with the man who was just trying to kick my door in. “Adam, this is Liam. I caught him kicking my door in, hence the car abandoned in the street with the door open. Liam, I’m embarrassed to say, is my ex.”
Adam raises his eyebrows and answers in the same calm, polite tone. “Ah. I see your relationship history is as flawed as mine.”
He turns to Liam. “I think maybe you should leave before I call the police. Unless…” He looks back at me. “Unless you think he has something to do with what’s going on? In which case, I can make him stay until the police get here.”
Liam lets out a short, ugly laugh. “Yeah? Like to see you try, mate.” He steps up to Adam.
Adam stays calm. He doesn’t back down or step back and I realize that Liam might look more intimidating with his tattoos and clenched fists, but Adam is taller and bigger with a zero-fucks-given look on his face. And in his dark hoodie and total calmness, he comes across as far more of a threat. Liam has no idea who he is, and I can see him hesitating, assessing. Adam doesn’t give an inch, just continues to stare at Liam, and it’s Liam in the end who backs down.
This Adam—the one standing there, facing down Liam—he could scare a family into a midnight flit.
I sigh and turn to Liam. “Don’t be a twat, Liam. I know it’s difficult as it’s your default setting, but I’m betting Adam could kick your ass, so back the hell down and shut the hell up.” I look at Adam again. “He’s a dick, Adam, but I don’t think he’s a murderer or a kidnapper, and he hasn’t got the brains to hack a website.”
“Stay out of my life, Hanna,” Liam says to me without taking his eyes off Adam. “Anymore visits from the police and I’ll make sure that dirty little secret you confessed to me becomes public knowledge. Bet you haven’t told your new boyfriend about that, have you?”
Adam takes one step closer to Liam. “If you come here again, or contact Hanna again, I will call the police. Or I could take on Hanna’s bet and try kicking your ass. It’s not my usual area of expertise, but I’m always willing to learn new skills.”
I laugh out loud. Can’t help it. Despite the awfulness of everything, I laugh with joy at the sheer ridiculousness of Adam, this screwed-up liar, this nice man, fronting up to Liam the loser. I don’t want to be his tragic Juliet or the poison; I want a whole new story with him, one with a happy ending.
And as Liam backs off, a tiny voice in my head, a new voice I’ve never heard before, says, Maybe you can have that.
But…
“Well,” Adam says after the front door has slammed, “I’m glad to see your taste in men has greatly improved.”
My laughter fades. I could smile at him now. I could smile at him and believe he’s had nothing to do with any of this. I could believe Dee and Seb when they say he’s one of the good guys.
But…
“You said you’re not a hacker, or a stalker, or a murderer,” I say. “Then who is doing this? Who else would know to use your website to get to me?”
He opens his mouth to answer, then closes it.
He doesn’t have an answer.
Chapter 26
SASHA—December, two months earlier
My phone buzzing wakes me up. My head is throbbing, and my eyes still feel swollen and sore from crying myself to sleep. I sit up, fumbling inside the pillowcase where I’ve hidden the phone, freaking out at the thought that it’ll keep buzzing and Dad will wake up and hear. I can’t believe I forgot to turn it off. It’s two in the morning. Who on earth is texting at two in the morning?
Hanna. It’s got to be—she must have deliberately waited to make sure it was safe and—I open the message and it’s from Ethan. There’s nothing at all from Hanna.
have you got five mins? found something out about your FB messages.
I frown. what??!
too much to say on text. meet me?
now??? I look at the time again. Yep. Still two in the morning.
am outside the main gates. borrowed owens van
I get up and am halfway through pulling my trousers on when I stop. Am I insane? If Dad catches me, I am dead. If he catches me sneaking out to meet an ex-crim, carrying a forbidden phone, I am beyond dead.
So, don’t get caught, a little voice whispers. The rest of my mind is still shrieking alarm, but I carry on getting dressed. After all, the little devil voice is still whispering, everyone has been lying to me my entire life. Why should I care? Because Dad’s having a tough time?
Despite the security lights and the locks on the gates, it’s not actually that hard to sneak out of the holiday park. Repairs that used to be done regularly have been let go since they announced they were closing the place. It was Ethan who pointed out the hole in the fence where several rotting boards have basically disintegrated. So long as I stay close to the hedges lining the entrance road, I should avoid setting off the security light.
The adrenaline rush as I make it out of the house without getting caught is like, wow… Is this how Hanna used to feel when she did it? It’s not fear anymore, although I can feel it bubbling way below the surface. My mouth is dry, my heart is racing, I can hear my breath, fast and harsh as I sidle along next to the hedges. No, it’s not fear, it’s a buzz, it’s… excitement. I want to laugh and cheer and whoop and dance around—look at me, badass Sasha Carter, sneaking out at two in the morning. I don’t even need to be going anywhere—no party would give me the buzz I’m feeling right now.
Not that I’m really that much of a badass. I got the phone out to text Hanna after I spoke to Mum. I was going to tell her I knew… but I couldn’t send it. I’m not sure I could bear it if she ignored that text as well.
Squeezing through the gap in the fence dampens the buzz a little—the rotting edges of the boards pull at my clothes and water drips down my neck from the trees. It’s not a triumphant escape—I basically fall through and land on my hands and knees—but I make it through.
The van is parked fifty feet away, engine running but with the lights off. I walk slowly, and even though I know it’s only Ethan in the van, I dip to check through the window before I open the passenger door.
“You made it—you escaped,” he says, smiling as I get in.
I smile back, a hint of that reckless buzz, that pride back again. “I sure did. It was easy.” I’m actually glad it’s so dark in the van, so he can’t see the mud all over my hands and knees.
“Shall we go for a ride? Get a bit farther away from the camp before we talk?”
My courage falters. It’s one thing to escape, but I thought we’d have a chat and then I’d sneak back in and be back in bed within half an hour. Go for a drive?
“Come on,” Ethan says. “You’re more likely to get caught if we stay here—we won’t go far.”
Okay, now the fear level has risen, and the excitement has taken a dip. But he’s right, if Dad were to wake up and look out, he might see Ethan’s van parked here. Unlikely, with the lights off, but possible.
“Okay,” I say. “But I can’t be long. I can’t go far.”
“Trust me,” Ethan says.
He drives down to the beach and pulls up in the car park, facing the sea. It’s weird. I don’t think I’ve ever been here at night before, certainly not this late when we are literally the only ones here. I can’t see the water, there’s not enough moon, so it’s just empty blackness in front of the van after Ethan switches the engine and lights off, but I can hear it, the whoosh and drag of waves hitting the shore and sliding back.
I should probably be scared. Sitting in darkness in a van with a man who’s just got out of prison at two in the morning. No one knows where I am. No one knows who I’m with. I could disappear and I would become one of those notorious unsolved mysteries.
Straight-A Student Vanishes In The Night.
Mum would cry at the press conference, pleading with me to come home; Dad would be all stiff upper lip. All the old stories about Hanna would come out again, but they’d never find a trace—I’d just have disappeared.
But it doesn’t scare me. I mean, obviously, I don’t want to disappear in a murdered-by-a-psychopath, left-in-a-shallow-grave way. I don’t want Ethan to suddenly produce an ax.
But just to disappear. Leave it all behind. Start again somewhere else. Be someone else. Like Hanna did. She wasn’t that much older than me when she left. I mean, obviously, I finally know why now. She had a baby she didn’t want. She had me.
But I wouldn’t be leaving behind a mess like she did, and I wouldn’t do it like her. I wouldn’t cut all ties. In fact, in reality, appealing though it might be, I wouldn’t do it at all, would I? Because I care about my family. Even Dad when he’s at his strictest and grumpiest. And Mum… what’s she done wrong other than love me so much she couldn’t bear for me to go to strangers? I wouldn’t want to put them through that. And that’s not a bad thing at all. Being the good girl is okay.
“I can’t be long,” I say to Ethan again.
“Neither can I,” Ethan says. “I didn’t exactly tell Owen I was borrowing his van.” He stops and laughs. “I don’t exactly still have a license.”
I stare at him. “But… if you get caught… you could lose your job, for a start.”
“Don’t worry. We won’t. It’s not the first time I’ve borrowed it. I think he knows and turns a blind eye. Plus, Owen thinks it’s funny you and I have become friends.” He glances at me. “I think he’s hoping your dad will find out so he can watch the show.”
See, there’s all that hate toward my dad again. I think about asking Ethan about it—he might know if Owen and Hanna were ever… But what if it’s true? What if creepy, permanently angry Owen King is actually my dad? I shudder at the thought. I can’t ask.
“You shouldn’t have taken the risk. Not for me.”
He shakes his head. “You’re a funny kid, Sasha. You’re worrying about me?”
I shrug. “Well, if I get caught, I’ll get grounded forever, but if you get caught—you could end up back in prison.” He’s frowning at me. “What?” I ask.
“I’m not used to having anyone worry about me, that’s all. People always want something in return. Owen gave me a job, sure, but it’s just another debt that needs to be repaid.”
The silence gets awkward and I shift in my seat, wondering if he’s going to say anything or if I should just ask him to drive me back. But when he does start talking, I kind of wish he’d stayed silent.
“So, I don’t have a name, not yet,” Ethan says. “But I found out the first message came from a computer in Cardiff, the others from a phone. I should be able to get the number soon. We know whoever it is knows you and where you go to school. Do you know anyone who lives in Cardiff?”
“No, everyone I know from school is local. Only…”
“What?”
“Only Hanna. She’s the only person I know who lives in Cardiff.”
There’s a pause.
“And she knows where you go to school? She’s probably even seen those pajamas that message mentioned. It might not have been a creepy webcam spying thing.”
I shake my head. “No, it can’t be her. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would she do that? Why would she send such horrible anonymous messages?”
“Didn’t you say the fake photo you used was of her?”
Oh God.
“Maybe she saw it, got angry, I don’t know.”
I knew it was stupid to use that photo. It wasn’t my photo to use. Yes, Hanna left them behind, but they were hers. Private. Personal. And oh God, half of the “friends” fake Jules made were people who know Hanna. Even if Hanna’s not on social media, Dee or someone could have told her and… But why would she send those messages? I say this again to Ethan and he sighs.
“Maybe it’s some weird misguided way of warning you off?”
“But why do it anonymously? And she’s got my number now, why not text me?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. But those first messages came before you had a phone. Listen, it might not be her at all. But give me her number and I’ll cross-check. I’ll find out for sure if it’s her phone sending those messages.”
Chapter 27
HANNA—Sunday 11 p.m.
I get back to Dee’s with tears on my cheeks and three plastic bags full of junk food. Dee takes one look at me, then steers me into the living room, depositing me on the sofa with a melting tub of Ben & Jerry’s and a spoon. There’s no sign of Seb and I presume he’s already gone to bed. She curls up next to me and puts her arm around my shoulder and I let her, because Christ knows, I need that comfort. I lean my head against her and close my eyes.
“What happened?” she asks. “Did Adam find you? Look, I’m sorry I told him where you were going, but…”
