Bring Me Back (B.A. Paris)(23)

I had no idea what to do. I knew I’d have to report you missing but that I’d have to have a story, otherwise they’d see my history and if you didn’t turn up, I’d be arrested for your murder. So that’s what I did; I drove to the nearest service station, because I couldn’t get a phone signal, and made up a story.





NINETEEN

Now

‘Shall we take the afternoon off?’ I ask Ellen over lunch, needing some sort of distraction, because I’ve spent the whole morning wondering if I should phone Tony back. But I know how ridiculous it will sound. If there were only the emails, it would be more believable. But the fact that someone is leaving little wooden dolls around for me to find proves it’s some sort of sick game and I prefer to find out who’s behind it myself.

Ellen stretches her arms above her head, flexing them. ‘Good idea, I could do with a break.’

‘I thought we could go for a walk in the hills.’

‘Not with Peggy, then. It’ll be too far for her.’

‘I’ll take her out when we get back.’

We leave Peggy asleep under the table, put a couple of bottles of water in a rucksack, and make our way to the end of the village and up into the hills beyond.

‘So,’ I say, as we walk along hand in hand. ‘How are your illustrations coming along?’

‘Fine. I just hope Stan likes them.’

‘How old did you say he was?’

‘Eighty-three.’

‘Just shows you’re never too old to write,’ I muse.

It’s a beautiful day, perfect for walking because the sun isn’t too hot and there’s a gentle breeze blowing off the hills. After an hour or so we find a flat stone to sit on and stop for a drink of water. And all the while I’m wondering if an email has come in from Rudolph Hill.

Impatient of sitting still, I stand up and pull Ellen to her feet. ‘Come on, time to go.’

Our pace picks up on the way back. As we approach the house we see Mick in his front garden.

‘Hello, Mick,’ I say, going over. ‘How’s your wife?’

‘Not well,’ he says. He shakes his head wearily. ‘Depression is a terrible thing.’

‘Perhaps I could go and see her,’ Ellen offers. ‘Have a chat with her.’

‘She doesn’t really like to chat.’

‘Read to her, then. Would she like that, do you think?’

‘It’s very kind of you but she isn’t comfortable around people. She doesn’t even like family visiting. She’s alright with Mrs Jeffries, though.’

‘Well, if you ever feel like you need a break or a beer, you know where we are,’ I tell him.

‘Thanks.’ There’s an awkward pause. ‘I better go and see if she wants anything,’ he says, turning and heading to the front door.

We cross over the road to our house.

‘I just thought she might like some younger company than Mrs Jeffries,’ Ellen says.

‘Unfortunately, when you’re depressed, you end up cutting yourself off from the entire world,’ I reply, and because she knows something of what I went through in the years following Layla’s disappearance, she gives my hand a sympathetic squeeze. In comparison to Mick’s wife – I realise that we don’t even know her name – who lost her two sons and her health, I feel slightly ashamed that Layla’s disappearance affected me so badly.

Peggy is awake so I take her for her walk and when we get back, she heads for her basket and I head to my office. The first thing I do is check my emails. There are plenty of new ones and I run my eye down them quickly. But there isn’t one from Rudolph Hill and I feel frustrated by his silence.

I decide to take the bull by the horns.

I think we should meet, I write, knowing he’ll never agree. And unbelievably, a reply comes straight back.





So do I


I stare at the screen, my skin prickling at the image of a faceless person sitting patiently in front of a computer for the last four days, waiting for me to get back to them. I pull my mind together. Time to reel him in.

Where?





You have the address


My heart thuds dully. The cottage. Had there been someone there yesterday, secretly watching me? Would they have shown themselves if that man hadn’t come along? Had they watched me leave, happy to have lured me there for nothing?

When? I write.





Tomorrow


What time?





4pm


Should I mention Layla, see what he says when I ask him to bring her with him, as if I believe he’s genuine? In the end, I simply tell him that I’ll be there.

After dinner, I tell Ellen I’ve had Grant on the phone and need to go back and see him.

‘Tomorrow,’ I add. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Of course I don’t,’ she says. ‘He’s your client, you need to keep him happy.’

‘I need to keep you happy too,’ I say, going over and putting my arms around her.

‘Then how about we go up to bed?’ she murmurs.

I nuzzle her neck, about to agree, when my eyes fall on the family of Russian dolls standing on the side behind her.