Bring Me Back (B.A. Paris)(58)

And then I hear it, a kind of whimpering coming from a room further down the corridor. I manhandle Mick out of the way and head for the room.

‘No!’ he cries. ‘You can’t! Leave us alone!’

But I’m already flinging the door open.

And there she is, struggling to sit up from where she’s been lying in her bed, a claw-like hand clutching the front of her nightdress, a look of absolute terror on her face. And as I look at her, I can feel the absolute horror on mine.





FIFTY-THREE

Finn

‘Mick, Mick!’ She claws at her nightdress.

Mick barges past me. ‘It’s alright, Fiona,’ he soothes, rushing to her side, pushing her gently back against the pillows. ‘I’m here.’

‘Who’s that man?’ Her voice is shaking with stress.

‘It’s alright,’ he says, swallowing his anger. ‘He’s our neighbour, he lives across the road. He just wanted to say hello to you.’ He looks over at me, his face drained of colour. ‘But he’s leaving now.’

‘Why was he shouting?’

‘I’m sorry.’ My voice comes out a whisper. ‘I’m sorry.’ I begin to back out of the room. ‘I wanted to say hello, that’s all. But I’m going now.’

‘I’ll go and see him out,’ I hear Mick explaining. ‘Then I’ll come back and finish giving you your breakfast.’

He follows me to the door.

‘Mick, I’m so sorry,’ I begin, but he cuts me off.

‘Get out. If you ever come near us again, I’ll call the police.’

I stumble into the front garden and see Mrs Jeffries on her doorstep, a phone in her hand.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say to her. ‘I’m sorry.’ I want to ask her if she’s phoned the police but she’s looking worriedly at Mick and I can feel them watching me as I cross back over the road.

In the house, I sink onto the stairs and put my head in my hands. Waves of shame flood through me as the whole nightmare scenario plays through my mind over and over again. I can’t get the look of terror on his wife’s face out of my mind, nor the distress on Mick’s as he pleaded with me to leave them alone. How could I have done what I just did, how could I have acted in such a brutish, bullying manner? What if Mrs Jeffries has phoned the police and they’re already on their way? They’ll find out that Ellen is missing and Mick will attest to us having an argument last night.

I take out my phone, call Ellen’s number. Again it goes through to voicemail, again I leave a message asking her to call me back urgently. I check my emails in the hope that there’s something from Layla but there’s nothing.

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting there when my mobile rings. Please let it be Ellen, please let it be Ellen, I pray as I fish it from my pocket. It’s Harry.

‘Is everything alright, Finn? Alice said you were looking for me.’

‘No, not really. Can you talk?’

‘The thing is, I’m a bit tied up at the moment. I’m abroad.’

‘Yes, I know.’ I wait for him to tell me where he is and when he doesn’t it quickly turns into awkwardness.

‘Can I phone you back? In about ten minutes?’ Harry asks, breaking the silence.

‘Yes, of course.’

‘I’ll call you back.’

He rings off and I sit with my mobile in my hand, playing over the conversation again. Something isn’t right. He didn’t even ask what the problem was when I told him something had happened. Why was that? And why hadn’t he called me back until his secretary asked him to? He must have seen that I’d tried to get hold of him earlier, he must have listened to my messages asking him to call me straight back. Did he already know what the problem was, did he already know that Ellen had disappeared?

How many times am I going to wonder if there’s something going on between Harry and Ellen before I actually believe it? When I’d asked Harry if he was in love with Ellen, he had denied it, said she wasn’t his type. Had he been lying, had I been right all those weeks ago when I thought he was behind the Russian dolls? Was it him who lured me to the cottage so that Ellen could leave while I was away? But why bring me back to the house so quickly? The answer stares me in the face. To frame me for her disappearance, to make it look as if I killed her.

Realising the precariousness of my position, I feel ill. If Ellen doesn’t turn up soon, if the police become involved, not only could Mick attest to our argument last night, he could also attest to me leaving soon after in the car. And then the police might start wondering if Ellen’s body was in the boot and if I dumped it somewhere before coming back home. They might think my visit to Mick this morning was some kind of ruse or distraction, part of a plan to cover my tracks.

My mobile rings, making me jump, because it’s still in my hand. I take a moment to compose myself, because I have a horrible feeling Harry is going to tell me something I don’t want to hear.

‘Harry?’

‘Look, Finn, there’s something I need to tell you.’

‘Is she with you?’ I ask dully.

‘Yes.’ He gives an awkward laugh. ‘I’m sorry, I should have told you – we should have told you,’ he corrects. ‘But we didn’t know how you would feel about it.’