The Quiet Girls: An absolutely addictive mystery thriller Page 11

They reconvened at the cottages, out the front, in the place where they had branched off in their individual teams. Night had fallen, fast and almost without warning. The heavily clouded day had provided no sunset. Harry arranged the fire, criss-crossing the wood they’d collected, bundling leaves underneath for the tinder. Gabe stood nearby, watching. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a lighter, flicked it, the flame flashed and burned.

  ‘You all right using this, Harry? Or did you want a go at making your own fire?’

  Harry smiled, reached out for the lighter as he mulled over Gabe’s words. Was the man teasing him? Making fun of Harry’s desire to live as naturally as possible? He decided to be jovial with Gabe.

  ‘How many of these have you got?’ he asked, laughing.

  ‘Three or four,’ answered Gabe. Slipping a pack of cigarettes from his pocket he offered one to Harry. Harry declined.

  ‘I’ll want to practice fire starting,’ Harry said, poking at the fire, a flame of happiness within him as it glowed, throwing off light and heat. ‘The lighters won’t last forever.’

  ‘Yeah, I’d be up for that.’ Gabe lowered himself onto a rug that Alice had brought out. Lazily he regarded Harry, the smoke from his cigarette curling upwards. ‘Be nice to get back to nature.’

  ‘Girls, Lenon!’ Harry called towards the cottages. ‘The fire’s on, come out here and let’s get some dinner going.’

  They came out in a procession, Alice in the lead, Liz, Lenon and Willow behind her, all carrying small boxes and plates. Harry clapped his hands together in glee. ‘What have we got?’ he asked.

  They laid their wares on the log by the fire. Tins, mostly, Harry saw with disappointment. Tins were like the lighters, they wouldn’t last forever. Soon they would have to find real food, real meat.

  ‘Can you dish it up?’ he asked Alice, and then, looking around, ‘where’s Melanie?’

  Alice shrugged. ‘Inside, in her room.’

  Harry frowned at her, but Alice had turned away to bend over the food stores.

  He hurried to the house, dodged inside and over to her open door. ‘Melanie, are you coming out for dinner?’

  Melanie turned away from the window at the sound of her father’s voice. It was February, and they were eating dinner from tin cans outside in the garden. She pulled the blanket tighter around her.

  As if sensing her misgivings, Harry said, ‘We’ve got a really good fire going. It’s warm.’

  ‘Okay.’ She walked over to him. He put his arm around her shoulder, pulled her into a hug she knew so well.

  ‘Did you enjoy this morning’s activity?’ he asked.

  Her fingers fumbled for the blanket again, her eyes suddenly full of unshed tears.

  She didn’t know when she lost Gabe and Willow that morning. At first, for a long time, Willow’s arm had been linked in hers. Melanie liked it, the sense that this older, beautiful girl seemed to enjoy being close to her. Gabe had walked behind them, off to one side, and though Melanie and Willow hadn’t talked, Melanie had sensed a closeness, a feeling that just by being in the girl’s presence she wasn’t as alone as she suddenly felt on this strange little island.

  Soon they came upon a small valley. It was surrounded by overhanging, craggy rocks which had formed a canopy of cover.

  ‘These are all dry!’ exclaimed Melanie, drawing Willow over. ‘We should take as many as we can carry.’

  A shuffling noise reached their ears. Willow straightened up. ‘Gabe,’ she said to Melanie. ‘I’ll go get him.’

  Leaving Melanie scooping up the dry sticks she darted up and over the rocks.

  How much time had passed when she realised there was no Willow, and no Gabe, and no sound from either of them? She didn’t know, not then, not even now, thinking back on it. She dropped her sticks, glanced up at the sun, but couldn’t recall where it was when they’d stumbled upon this place.

  ‘Willow?’ she called, and stilled herself, listening for an answering shout.

  There was nothing, only her own voice thrown back at her, bouncing off the steep, rocky sides.

  She picked up her sticks, a pitiful bundle, really, she saw now, and there were many more but too many to carry alone. Stacking them under her arm she clawed her way back up to stand on the lip of the small ravine.

  ‘Willow?’ she said again. ‘Gabe?’

  No reply. And this time, not even her own echo answered her.

  She found them near to where they’d started, standing apart, not talking. On Melanie’s approach Willow spun around.

  ‘Where were you?’ she asked, angrily.

  Melanie held the small pile of wood aloft. ‘Gathering these,’ she said. ‘I thought you were going to get Gabe, this is all I could carry on my own.’

  Willow sniffed and folded her arms. ‘Someone else can get some more tomorrow,’ she said. ‘It’s time to get back anyway.’

  ‘Well?’ Harry prompted. ‘Did you enjoy it? You found a good store of wood for the fire.’

  Melanie offered him as big a smile as she could manage. ‘And there’s lots more where that came from,’ she said.

  He seemed pleased that she’d found wood that would keep them warm and heat their food. She thought about the moment when she had found Gabe and Willow, and the streak of colour that had surrounded them, grey and black with hot flashes of lava red, a mist that stood out a foot from their bodies, pulsing and throbbing.

  She decided not to tell Harry about that. Instead, she slipped her hand inside his, and followed him outside to the campfire.

  19

  ‘Missing twins,’ announced Paul as he came into Carrie’s office. He balanced two cups of take-out coffee and a brown file.

  Carrie stood up, took the paperwork and one cup. Her fingers trembled as she set them down on her desk. Always, when she heard the word ‘missing’ in conjunction with her work, she showed it outwardly.

  ‘How old?’

  ‘Fifteen.’ He gestured to the file. ‘The school reported it; absence of three weeks, can’t get in touch with the parents, nor the kids. Neighbours haven’t seen the family for weeks.’

  Two fifteen-year-olds were most likely together. Carrie exhaled. Not young then, not six years old, not the same case, not even really a similar case to… She closed off her train of thought, unwilling to let that name free in her mind.

  ‘And, one more.’ Paul pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and slid it over to her. ‘Another child’s absence, reported by the school authorities.’

  She read the name, tasted it out loud. ‘Melanie Wilson.’ Sharply she looked up at Paul. ‘How old is she?’

  ‘Eleven,’ he replied.

  She placed the paper on the twins’ file. ‘Has anyone visited their homes yet?’

  Paul shook his head. ‘Thought you might like to go now.’

  Carrie reached for her coat.

  The house in Crofts Bank was empty. Carrie cupped her hands to the front window and peered in.

  ‘Furniture still there, there’s a coffee cup on the table, and a newspaper. She turned to Paul. ‘Someone still lives here.’

  He came around the side of the house, looked up and down the street.

  ‘They’ve been gone a few weeks.’

  Carrie turned at the sound of the voice. A woman, old, bent over, stared at Carrie and Paul.

  ‘Weeks?’ Carrie moved towards the woman. ‘You mean like on holiday?’

  The old woman’s lips pinched together and she shook her head. ‘They took off before it was light, in a hell of a hurry. Woke me up with all the noise. Noise from him, mind, the others never said a word.’

  A tingle started on the nape of Carrie’s neck and she gestured Paul over. ‘Do you know the names of the family that live here?’

  ‘Gabe and Liz Hadley, the twins are Willow and Lenon.’ She sniffed. ‘Funny names people give their kids these days.’ She turned to Paul, her wrinkled face breaking into a smile as she looked at him. ‘I’m Sandra. No fancy names in my family.’


  ‘Well, Sandra, we’d appreciate anything you can tell us. I don’t suppose the Hadleys mentioned where they were going so early?’

  ‘They never said. They never speak much. Gabe is friendly, actually, but the kids are a bit stuck up and the mother can’t string a sentence together. Hammered, I reckon, all the time.’ Sandra spoke her last words in a low, conspiratorial tone.

  ‘Do they work, the parents, I mean?’ Carrie interjected.

  ‘Liz used to be a nurse, or something in a doctor’s surgery. But then…’ Sandra mimed a drinking motion. ‘I don’t know about Gabe, a building contractor or something, maybe a mechanic. He was always tinkering with his car.’

  ‘Sandra, you’ve been a great help.’ Paul pressed a business card into her hands. ‘If you think of anything else, or see any members of the family, will you call us?’

  Sandra looked delighted, the smile softening her hard features again. ‘I will,’ she simpered, eyes only on Paul, Carrie noticed. ‘I certainly will.’

  Paul mock-shuddered on the way back to the car.

  ‘You’re in there,’ remarked Carrie. ‘Bet she calls you by the end of the day.’

  ‘I won’t mind if she has some actual information.’ Paul smiled.

  Carrie nodded to herself as she clipped the seatbelt on. That was Paul all over. A good, kind man.

  ‘I’ll run the names through the computer when we get to the station,’ Paul went on. ‘And the other family, the Wilsons.’ He glanced at Carrie. ‘What do you reckon to this?’

  She thought as she drove. Missing kids were not so uncommon: custody battles, runaways, one parent leaving with the child. But entire families doing a vanishing act. And two of them at that.

  ‘See if there’s a connection between them. Find the registration of the Hadleys’ vehicle and run it through, and the one belonging to the Wilsons. We’ll get as much info as we can; did they privately rent, have they done a runner on the landlord?’ She nodded, the tingling sensation dimming somewhat now she had a plan. ‘We’ll see what comes up.’

  ‘Did you put the request in for the CCTV at the train station?’ Carrie asked as they shed their coats back at the station. ‘The caller, the girl who was calling me, did you chase it up?’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll look into it while I’m getting the Hadleys’ car details.’ He gave her a questioning look. ‘How long since the last call?’

  She pulled her notebook out of her pocket, looked back to the pages where she’d scrawled the call logs. ‘About a month,’ she replied. ‘They’ve stopped, haven’t they?’

  It was a troubling thought. The more she contemplated the calls, the more she listened to the recordings, the surer she was that it wasn’t a prank. The girl was deadly serious.

  ‘Yes, chase it up,’ she said. ‘In fact, do it now, then get Gabe’s car info, I’ll look into the house, if it’s privately rented, council or bought. Then we’ll try and get some more info on the other family.’

  They took a seat at Carrie’s desk, she passed over her laptop and switched on her own PC. For long minutes they worked in silence, each pausing to scribble a note. The monitor and laptop pinged occasionally, all the details they requested feeding through the networks.

  ‘Council house,’ Carrie announced. ‘The rent isn’t in arrears yet, not until the first of the month. Gabriel and Elizabeth are the names registered, with Willow and Lenon as minors.’ She looked over at Paul. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’ve repeated my request for the CCTV at the train station. Gabe’s registration was easy enough to find and guess what?’

  Carrie rolled her eyes. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘A Ford Mondeo, registered to a Gabriel Hadley, was reported abandoned on Salford Quayside two weeks ago.’

  ‘Had he reported it stolen?’

  Paul shook his head. ‘Nope. Uniforms already went round to his house but never got an answer, nor on the phone. No reply to any letters, so they arranged recovery to the car lock-up in Deansgate.’

  Carrie frowned. For a family to disappear, a car might be found at an airport or a ferry terminal, but the Salford Quays had not so much as a foot ferry. At least, not in winter. The Mersey Ferry ran boats from Salford all the way to Liverpool in the summer, but they didn’t start until July.

  The Quays again… she sighed, remembering the previous December, all those days and nights seeking another lost boy.

  Her eyes met Paul’s. ‘Print all that out, then we’ll go over to the quays. I want to see where this car was left.’

  From Bridgewater Dock, Carrie glanced up at her apartment. What had she been doing when Gabriel Hadley left his car here? Sleeping, probably, or at the gym or the care home or the station. She rubbed her face, cold even though the sun had been shining brightly recently, promising an early spring. It was sad that there were only four places she could ever be.

  ‘Where would they go from here?’ Paul’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘I mean, it’s not far from their home, why drive a few miles and abandon the car here?’ Paul turned in a slow circle. ‘There’s no stations here, no taxi rank or hire car company.’

  Carrie looked out over the water. The only way anyone was leaving here without being seen was on a boat.

  She shook her head, dismissed the thought and turning she glanced at the apartment building adjacent to the dock. A wide, gated fence led into the underground parking garage. She gestured to the camera mounted for automatic registration plate recognition for the residents who lived there.

  ‘We’ll get that CCTV, it should show what Gabe did after he left the car, who was with him, and what they did next.’

  Paul was already striding towards the building. ‘I’m on it,’ he called over his shoulder.

  The request for the CCTV was in, the end of the working day was upon them.

  ‘Half hour,’ said the building manager. ‘I’ll burn it onto a disc for you.’

  ‘Very helpful,’ remarked Paul as they returned to the quayside again.

  ‘Too helpful,’ replied Carrie.

  Paul rolled his eyes and laughed. ‘You think he has something to hide?’

  ‘Not to do with the case. Maybe elsewhere.’ Carrie glanced over at him. ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘I often find this warrant card encourages helpfulness all on its own.’ He smiled. ‘Hey, what do you reckon about grabbing a coffee? We’ve got thirty minutes to kill.’

  Carrie chewed on her lower lip. She didn’t fraternise with her colleagues. Her thoughts earlier of how little she actually did in her life pricked at her conscience. They were approaching a Costa now, and before she could change her mind, she pointed at it.

  ‘Nice one,’ he said, striding towards the door. ‘My treat.’

  She selected a booth, and while Paul went to the counter to order she pulled out the photos of the three missing children that she’d printed off. The twins, Willow and Lenon, were uncannily alike physically. She wondered if they were close, and as her gaze fell on the lone picture of Melanie she wondered how she felt about being an only child. She wouldn’t care, probably, because she’d never known anything else.

  Unlike Carrie.

  A wave of agony washed over her, and she bit at her finger but it did nothing to stop the tears, sudden and fierce.

  ‘Fuck,’ she whispered.

  ‘One Americano, here you go.’

  ‘Oh, cheers,’ she said, scrubbing at her eyes with her sleeve.

  ‘Carrie, what’s up?’ Paul slid onto the seat opposite her, his eyes wide, swimming with concern, missing nothing as always.

  She shook her head, attempted a smile. Don’t be nice, she begged silently, let it go.

  His hand crept across the table. She watched it with alarm. If he touched her, if he went that far, was that nice… She pulled her hands back and tucked them in her lap.

  ‘I was looking at the photos, the twins, Melanie Wilson.’ She swept her hand over them, knowing it was no explanation.

  He sipped at his coffee, all the while watching he
r.

  Carrie sighed, and it felt like it came from the soles of her feet. ‘I had a sister,’ she said, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible. ‘Once, a long time ago.’

  Silence fell, along with the scent of misery. It covered their table like a blanket.

  20

  The weather turned a few degrees warmer as March went on, and it lifted everyone’s spirits considerably. The wood, scattered around the island, dried, and every day they went out to collect it. From the stronger pieces, and newly discovered sheets of aluminium found piled against the wall of the boat docking area, Gabe built a store on the end of his cottage. The wood stacked up over the next ten days until it was completely full.

  ‘We need a second store,’ proclaimed Harry, observing Gabe’s structure and scratching his head.

  ‘The valley where we found the first wood,’ suggested Melanie. ‘It’s sheltered, everything in there was dry.’

  He high-fived her. ‘Good plan.’

  Alice watched them, a true group now, discussing logistics and construction. Only Liz, Gabe’s wife, seemed to be the same person as when she’d arrived on the island. Quiet, withdrawn, she never joined in or offered solutions or input. Instead she remained mostly in the cottage, only emerging outside if she were called upon for some chore or another.

  After a few attempts, mostly at Harry’s prompting, Alice had given up. This whole trip had been Harry’s plan, not hers. And besides, Alice now had more important things to do.

  With the rest of the group busy at work, minus Liz, Alice backed away from the cottages. She moved slowly, in a relaxed fashion, stopping in the scrublands that bordered the cottages every few yards, casual, meandering. The ground dipped into the grassy place which ran down to the water and the docking bay. Once she was out of sight, Alice ran.

  And even though island life wasn’t so bad, Alice still hoped Ben would keep his end of the bargain she’d paid him for, and would be there to meet her.