The Sister(178)

Puzzled, he rested his chin on his hand. And why didn’t you warn me about Stella when I saw you yesterday?

He observed the milling shadows as darkness gathered about him, yet sensed no danger to himself. You need to warn her!

In the bedroom, he unplugged his mobile phone from the charger; it vibrated suddenly in his hand and he almost dropped it. The display said: Stella.

‘Hello, Stella, you’re early, what’s up? Couldn’t you sleep?’

After short pause, a man’s voice spoke through the handset. ‘Oh, she’s sleeping well. I gave her something to help her. Now you listen to me!’ he shouted.

Miller jerked the phone away from his ear. ‘I’m listening,’ he said, calmly. There was no need to ask who was calling, he already knew.

‘Aren’t you going to ask me who I am?’ the caller asked.

‘Tell me or don’t, it doesn’t make any difference. I’m only interested in why you called me from Stella’s phone, and that she’s safe. What is it you want me to listen to that you had to shout like that?’

‘Miller, Mr Miller, I got your number off her phone. Did you know you were the last person she rang? I’ve been researching you, Mr Miller. I know you like to find missing people. Well, let me tell you something, Mr Miller; she is most definitely missing and now here’s the rub. If you try to find her, if I get the slightest whiff of you or the police coming near, I’ll kill her.’

Something about his growling style of speech set Miller to thinking. He sounds like Clint Eastwood! It didn’t occur to him that the vocal similarity was deliberate.

‘What are you planning to do with her?’

‘Oh, don’t worry, Mr Miller. I only want to make her happy,’ the caller exhaled audibly. ‘As the saying goes, what do we do now?’ Then he was gone.

Miller shuddered. I can’t just leave her, but where the hell do I start?

His mind began to race.





The caller thought back to the day before; the ease with which he took her was scary, even by his standards. He grabbed her in through the side door of his van. Clamping her mouth, he chloroformed her from behind, just enough to put her out. He checked the street for witnesses, nobody there. ‘That was easy,’ he said to himself, and slid the door shut.

He trussed and gagged her in the back and, when he was done, rolled her onto her side and then stroked the inside of her thigh. ‘No time for that!’ he chided himself in a strict voice. Removing his hand, he climbed through into the driver’s seat.





Outside a remote country pub, Miller sat waiting. It was the sort of place where people having affairs met up for a drink before going off into the seclusion of the nearby lanes. The chances of bumping into anyone you might know were unlikely. Miller, too, had chosen the pub for its seclusion. Nestled at the end of a country lane, the long straight stretch of road leading up to it meant you couldn’t be followed by a car or motorbike without noticing.

The sound of a vehicle approaching drifted in on the wind before the car itself became visible. It was Tanner.

They introduced themselves and once inside, brought drinks, and found a dim corner, well away from the half a dozen or so drinkers collected around the bar.

‘Thanks for agreeing to meet me so quickly.’

‘That’s okay, you said it was urgent.’ He held his glass up and tipped it in Miller’s direction. ‘Cheers.’

Miller echoed the gesture.

Tanner swallowed a mouthful and exhaled loudly enough for a couple of people to turn and look at him.

‘You know, I never even knew this place existed.’ He looked around the pub and took in the five-hundred-year-old detailing. Just the sort of pub he’d love to acquire on retirement. He nodded to himself approvingly. ‘Right, so what’s all this about then?’ Tanner switched his attention to Miller abruptly.

Miller twiddled a beer mat in his hand and then leaned forward, dropping his voice so he was only just audible. ‘Kennedy told me someone was framing him and this character had him stitched up so tight he’d have to disappear for a while.’

‘I don’t see how disappearing is going to help him clear his name.’

‘Can I trust you, Tanner?’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Tanner looked offended. ‘More to the point, you’re Kennedy’s friend, so how do I know I can trust you?’

Miller looked Tanner square in the face. ‘Fair comment, but listen, although we went to the same school, we weren’t friends. I met him for the first time in years at a Passover dinner. I was giving a talk there; he turned up on my table, and we started talking.’

‘What date was that?’

April the third, a Tuesday night, why?’

He looked at Miller, gauging his sincerity. ‘No one has seen him since; he never showed for work in the morning, isn’t taking my telephone calls.’ Tanner hesitated. ‘Miller, I paid a visit to his house when he didn’t answer my calls.’

Miller stared.

Tanner had something on his mind. ‘I don’t know whether I should tell you this, but I’m going to anyway.’ When Tanner had finished, he looked for Miller’s reaction.

‘You know you said no one has seen Kennedy since he didn’t show for work?’ he said, examining the detective’s face.