The Shadow House(77)

I looked everywhere, but the rooms remained unfilled, the beds unoccupied.

My son had vanished.


Upstairs, Jenny’s unit was dark.

Heart racing, I pushed the pram along the upper road, squinting at her windows, looking for signs of life. Reaching the front door, I knocked lightly but there was no reply. Then I tried the handle and the door opened. A waft of air from inside brought Jenny’s scent – roses, and a trace of geranium – but no other signs of life.

‘Hello?’ I wheeled the pram over the threshold. ‘Jenny?’

In a small square entryway, a tulip-style stained-glass lamp cast a soft glow over polished floorboards and walls papered with a soft floral print. The rest of the house, though, felt like a void. Locking the pram into place, I tiptoed further inside. No flowers or plants, no paintings, no photographs. Jenny’s unit was as empty as I imagined the last six years of her life must have felt.

‘Ollie? Are you here?’

I peered around corners and nudged open doors. Both bedrooms appeared untouched, the beds neatly made. The bigger bedroom was, like the rest of the house, sparingly furnished with just a bed, a side table and an antique chest of drawers. On top of the drawers was a single photo frame, the only ornament or piece of decoration I’d seen in the whole house. I switched on the light to take a closer look. A plump and rosy-cheeked Jenny, with a man I recognised as Michael Kellerman. The boy between them had dark hair, pale skin and an awkward expression, as if he half expected the camera to launch an attack at any moment. Jenny’s eyes were fixed adoringly on his face.

A hard lump grew in my throat. Blinking back tears, I replaced the frame on the drawers, switched off the light and closed the door behind me.

In the living area, Kara was stirring in the pram. No, don’t you dare wake up now, baby, please. As quietly and gently as I could, I wheeled her around and left the unit, heading back outside to the road. Across the valley, just visible over the top of Jenny’s roof, the farmhouse sat on the hill like a sugar cube. Bathed in moonlight, it seemed to be glowing.

Listen to your children. Take them seriously.

Kara woke up and began to whimper.

You need to protect them. At any cost.

The whimper turned into a full-blown cry. Letting go of the handle, I raked my hands through my hair. I had no idea what to do.

What if something bad is going to happen?

As I stood there, one of the farmhouse windows lit up. A flickering square of yellow, like a lantern in the dark. A flare, a distress signal.

‘Alex?’

I turned my head so fast I heard my neck crack. Kit was standing just a few yards away, his face mottled by shadow.

‘Fuck,’ I breathed. ‘What are you doing? You nearly gave me a heart attack.’

He stepped towards me, holding up his hands as if in surrender. ‘I’m sorry, I was just … I saw you leave the party in a hurry. You seemed upset, I wanted to check on you.’

Kara wailed. I unclipped her from the pram and swung her up onto my shoulder, grateful for the reassuring weight of her in my arms.

‘Is everything alright?’ Kit said.

I hesitated, my gaze sliding back to the farmhouse. I could feel my pulse in every part of my body: a frantic, irregular beat.

Kit’s features tightened with alarm. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

My son was in that house, I was suddenly sure of it. I had to get up there; Ollie needed me. But I couldn’t take Kara on a wild chase through the forest. I pressed my hand to my forehead. What do I do?

‘Alex, what’s going on?’ Kit’s face was creased with concern.

I looked at him. I’d never hurt you, he’d said. I would always protect you. But the packing materials in his office, the total lack of him online … and the flutter in my stomach that felt like butterflies but could just as easily be the ripple of red flags.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ he said. ‘You’re freaking me out.’

‘Shush, I’m trying to decide something.’ I bounced Kara up and down. I bit my lip and turned in a circle.

‘What’s the matter? Can I help?’

‘That’s just it,’ I said, coming back around to face him. ‘I don’t know. Can you?’

He looked at me blankly.

‘All that stuff you said earlier – how you feel about me … how do I know that it’s true? How do I know if I can trust you, Kit? I mean, really know?’

He sighed and was quiet for a moment. ‘I guess you can’t,’ he said at last, holding my gaze. ‘But trust is about faith. I’m trying my best to earn it, but ultimately whether or not you can take that leap is up to you.’

I closed my eyes. Held my girl tight.

He was right. It was my decision to make.

So I made it.

Against the odds, I trusted him. Not because I had little choice in that particular moment, but because gut instinct told me I could – and because what was the alternative? Never put my faith in anyone ever again? I didn’t want to live like that.

‘Ollie is missing,’ I said, opening my eyes again.

Kit’s jaw went slack. ‘Really? Like, missing missing?’

Telling him about Jenny would take too long, and instinct told me that the fewer people involved the better. ‘I think I know where he is. But I need you to watch Kara for me while I find him.’