The Girls Who Disappeared(65)

‘John-Paul said he had savings.’ Her whole body flashed hot with embarrassment.

‘He had nothing, Stace,’ he said gently. ‘He regretted running away from India. So that’s why I invited him here – I thought the Buddha thing could help you both out. But …’ he reached over and stroked her cheek ‘… I’m just glad I got to meet you. I’m sorry if I’m talking out of turn, but I think …’ His eyes locked with hers. ‘I hope you feel the same.’ Desire crackled between them and Stace realized she was holding her breath.

She knew what was going to happen next and she did nothing to stop it as he led her upstairs to his room at the top of the villa. They didn’t speak as they peeled off each other’s clothes, holding eye contact, the only light spilling from the French windows that led onto a balcony and were slightly ajar. She knew she had crossed a line: her future was not set out like she’d thought. And there was no going back.





Day Four





39



Jenna


Voice Memo: Thursday, 29 November 2018


I survived another night, although as the days pass I’ve got more questions than answers. Who was the man staying illegally in the cabin opposite? Who wrote the note with the flowers and on my car? And who threw it into the fire? Not to mention who killed Ralph and who attacked me in the forest? I can’t wait to leave this town – but I know Olivia and her friends will follow me.

The next morning I decide to speak to Madame Tovey. I know Jay and Dale have described her as a charlatan but she’s a local institution and was living in Stafferbury when the girls disappeared. She’d be a good interviewee for the podcast.

It’s another cold morning, the sky a blanket of white. There is a light dusting of frost on the pavement. I’ve got my collar turned up against the wind, and as I’m crossing the high street I see Olivia outside Madame Tovey’s. She looks harassed, her face pale and tired. She has a maroon beanie pressed down on her head, which does nothing for her sickly pallor.

‘Olivia,’ I call, speeding up but careful not to slip on the icy pavement. ‘Are you okay?’

‘No, not really,’ she says, glancing up at the window above Madame Tovey’s, which I assume is Wesley’s flat. She looks like she’s barely slept.

‘Can I give you a lift home?’ I can drop her off and come back to see Madame Tovey. It’s not like I have an appointment anyway. ‘My car is only over there,’ I say, pointing to where I’ve parked it on a two-hour bay at the end of the high street.

She hesitates. A shadow moves behind the glass. I realize she’s worried about Wesley’s disapproval. But a defiant expression passes over her face. She sets her chin and nods, thanking me. We walk to the car and don’t speak until we are warm inside.

I start the engine. ‘Is everything okay between you and Wesley?’ I ask, remembering the conversation we had last night.

She tugs off her hat and the static causes her hair to stand on end. She runs her hands over it absently. ‘Something strange happened last night,’ she begins, as I pull away from the kerb and fall behind a passing Vauxhall. There isn’t much traffic; there never seems to be around here.

‘Oh, yes?’ I want to ask her about the note and whether she had put it into the fire but I can’t work out a way to phrase it without sounding confrontational. And if Olivia is guilty of something it might give me the upper hand if I don’t reveal I know about the burnt note.

Horror washes over me when she’s finished telling me what happened to her last night. ‘Are you saying you think you might have been injected with drugs?’

She blinks and I can see she’s close to tears. ‘Yes.’

As a journalist I’ve reported on this before, usually young women in nightclubs. ‘God, Olivia. Have you gone to the police?’

‘I don’t know what to do,’ she wails. ‘I was in such a state when Dale found me.’

‘Dale found you?’ My voice comes out strangled.

She explains about him finding her at the stones and I grip the steering wheel, my mind racing.

And then, just when I think it can’t get any worse, she tells me about Wesley disappearing, then returning later with a cardboard box and another phone. ‘I just know,’ she says, with a sob, ‘that he’s up to no good. And I was hoping he’d go to work first so that I could find the box and see what was inside but he couldn’t get rid of me quickly enough this morning. When I suggested going into work late and letting myself out, he wouldn’t hear of it. It was obvious he didn’t want me alone in his flat.’

‘But he left you last night?’

‘Yeah, because he thought I’d be out for the count. But still … to leave me like that at night after what I’d been through.’

Is she beginning to see what I could all along? That the only person Wesley really cares about is himself?

I turn left off the high street, drive past The Raven and the buildings fall away, everything more countrified.

‘It was round about here,’ she says, pointing to a stretch of pavement. There are no houses along here, just hedgerows and fields on either side until you reach the riding stables. ‘The last thing I remember is walking along here and then I felt a hand, across my face, and that must have been when the person injected me. I remember …’ she frowns ‘… I remember stumbling into someone’s arms. But I can’t … I can’t catch the memory.’