Her One Mistake(65)
“Okay. That sounds good,” I said, thinking no one is likely to spot them in the middle of the sea. “Thank you, Dad. You know I couldn’t do this without you.”
I hung up, the tension already seeping its way back inside. It was a relief to know Alice was safe, but what if my father couldn’t hold out?
I’d go through the motions until I’d arranged to call him again. Just to hear him tell me they were both okay was all I needed to get me through. If I knew then that when I called the following Wednesday he wouldn’t answer, I would have driven to the cottage to get my daughter back straightaway.
? ? ?
I HAD JUST passed the halfway mark on my journey to Cornwall when a warning light flashed on the dashboard. The car started to slow and as much as I pressed my foot on the accelerator, I could feel it losing power until it stuttered to a stop three hundred feet from a gas station. Grateful for its proximity, I asked the assistant if he knew a number for a tow truck and waited in the stark light of the convenience store for an hour until help arrived.
The mechanic said he would tow me to a local garage, adding that of course no one would be able to look at it until the following morning.
“I can’t wait until then,” I cried out.
The mechanic shrugged as he wiped his hands on an oily cloth. “I’m afraid you don’t have much choice. No one will be there tonight.”
“What do I do?” I couldn’t leave my car there and I certainly couldn’t turn back.
“Well, if you want to come with me while I tow the car to the garage, I can take you on to my brother’s bed-and-breakfast if you like?” he suggested. “I’ll call him now and make sure they’ve got a room, but I’m sure they will,” he added softly, eyeing the tears cascading down my cheeks. “Thursday night, so he won’t be busy and he’s very cheap. He’ll take you to get your car in the morning.”
It was the only realistic option. We left my car at the garage, where the mechanic posted a note with his brother’s number on it. Then he drove two miles through narrow country lanes to the shabby B&B, which was nothing more than a house with a handwritten VACANCIES sign stuck to its latticed bay window.
As darkness crept in, the idea of being so isolated without a phone made me physically tremble. “It’ll be warm inside,” the mechanic said, mistaking my fear for cold as he pressed the doorbell.
I could never explain to him that this was so much more than the inconvenience of a faulty car. I had no idea what I’d walked away from and even less what I was walking into, and the thought of being trapped midway between the two was terrifying.
CHARLOTTE
On Thursday evening Charlotte stood at her bedroom window and watched Angela step out of her car, gazing up at the house opposite with its FOR SALE board attached to the gate. She knew what Angela would be thinking. There were a few coveted roads in Chiddenford and this was one of them. The pretty cul-de-sacs with their beautiful houses sat on plots much more generous than in other parts of the village. Eventually Angela turned and walked toward Charlotte’s home.
Charlotte smiled warmly as she opened the door and tried to gauge the expression on the detective’s face. “The kids are still playing outside. I should get them ready for bed, but it’s such a nice evening.” She looked at her watch. It was already 7:00 p.m. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Just water would be lovely, thank you,” Angela said as she stepped into the hallway. “Wow, this is amazing.”
“Thank you.” Charlotte gave a small smile. Everyone commented on her grand hallway, and usually she was proud of it. But it seemed so small in importance now.
“So, how can I help you?” Charlotte asked, leading Angela to the kitchen where she filled a tumbler with water and handed it to her. “Please sit down.” She gestured to a bar stool and Angela perched on it, resting her glass on the island in front of her, continuing to gape at the expanse of Charlotte’s kitchen.
“Have you heard anything from Harriet?” Angela asked, taking a sip and carefully placing the glass down.
“No, not since I went to her house after the fair. Why do you ask?”
“I just wondered if she’s come to see you, or spoken to you,” Angela said.
Charlotte shook her head. “I haven’t heard from her once.”
“You see, she isn’t at the house,” Angela went on. “I arranged to be there at four this afternoon. Harriet’s never not been in, especially when she knows I’m coming.”
Charlotte pulled out a stool for herself on the other side of the island. There was obviously more bothering Angela than Harriet not being at home. The thought of her visitor the previous night was beginning to set off alarm bells.
“Brian was here last night,” she said.
“Brian?” Angela looked surprised.
Charlotte shuddered at the memory of him waiting for her on the other side of her front hedge. “He was outside my house when I was going out. He wanted to speak to me in his car. He wouldn’t come into the house, I don’t know why.”
“What did he want?” Angela asked, leaning forward.
“That’s the strange thing. All he kept talking about was Harriet and how much he loved her. He wanted to know if she ever talked to me about their marriage, which she never did. It was an odd conversation.”