The Lost Ones Page 11

  Inspector Shields pursed his thin lips and nodded. ‘That’s plausible, I suppose. But if that were the case, why would Mr Ferguson deny taking your daughter? Surely he’d want you to know what he’s done. Otherwise, what would be the point?’

  ‘Perhaps there were others with him. He might be trying to give them time to get Erin somewhere out of our reach.’

  ‘That’s highly unlikely, Mr Jackson. The vast majority of child abduction cases involve a single perpetrator acting alone. What’s more, there’s no real evidence that this is an abduction case.’

  ‘Then what is it?’ Tom retorted desperately. ‘Just what in Christ’s name is going on?’

  ‘That’s what we’re all trying to find out. I’m not ruling out any possibilities at this point, including that Craig Ferguson is involved in this, alone or with accomplices. The most important thing is not to jump to conclusions.’

  Tom thrust his head into his hands. ‘I feel like I’m going to scream.’

  Inspector Shields smiled sympathetically. ‘Please don’t. You’ll get me in trouble.’

  Tom managed to summon up a faint smile of his own at the dry remark. ‘So what happens now? Can I go?’

  ‘First, I need you to sign and date this.’

  Inspector Shields slid the statement across the table. Tom quickly signed and returned it. ‘There are a few more questions I need to ask,’ said the inspector, taking out another notepad. ‘You may already have been asked some of these questions today, but please try to answer them as fully and precisely as possible anyway. What time did you leave the house this morning?’

  ‘About five to nine.’

  ‘Did you go directly to the Town Hall?’

  ‘No. I went to Maglin Hill first.’ Tom looked narrowly at Inspector Shields. ‘Why are you so interested in where I went?’

  ‘These questions are asked as a matter of routine. You’re not under any kind of suspicion. Why did you go to Maglin Hill?’

  Tom sighed. ‘I’m not entirely sure. I suppose I was trying to work out whether it’s worth all the strife.’

  ‘Strife.’ Inspector Shields repeated the word as if it was significant. ‘When I spoke to your wife earlier, I got the impression that things have been somewhat strained between you recently.’

  The lines between Tom’s eyebrows sharpened. ‘Really? What did she say to make you think that?’

  The inspector sidestepped the question with another of his own. ‘Are you saying I got the wrong impression?’

  ‘Absolutely. Things have never been better between us,’ Tom said with perhaps a touch too much conviction. ‘When I said strife, I was referring to the quarry and everything that goes with it, not my marriage.’

  ‘But surely it’s all part of the same thing. If you’re stressed because of money troubles—’

  ‘Did Amanda tell you we’ve got money troubles?’

  Rather than answering Tom’s question, the inspector continued, ‘It seems clear to me that if someone’s stressed about money, work or whatever, it’s going to have a knock-on effect on their family relationships.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t seem clear to me. I’d never allow that to that happen. Work is work. Family is family.’

  Inspector Shields nodded. ‘I myself try my best never to bring my work home. But sometimes stress just spills over.’

  Tom silently sucked his upper lip. He spread his hands in an anything else? gesture.

  ‘So I’m assuming you can think of no reason Erin might have run away?’ asked the inspector.

  ‘None at all.’

  ‘And apart from the environmental activists, is there anyone else you can think of with a possible motive to be involved in this?’

  Tom’s mind returned to the market square and his meeting with the old Druidess. He fished the square of black paper out of his pocket and unfolded it on the table. He explained where it had come from as Inspector Shields read the spidery writing.

  ‘Apart from yourself and the woman who gave it to you, has anyone handled this?’ asked Inspector Shields.

  ‘Only my business partner Eddie Reed.’

  ‘Do you know the woman’s name?’

  ‘No. I’d never seen her before.’

  ‘I’d like to hold onto this, if it’s OK with you.’ Tom nodded and Inspector Shields continued, ‘Your son’s interested in this kind of thing, isn’t he?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Paganism, witchcraft, the occult.’

  Tom rolled his eyes. ‘It’s just a phase he’s going through. Why? What’s that got to do with anything?’

  ‘We picked Jake up at the Ingham house about an hour ago. He was looking for Erin. Why do you think he thought he might find her there?’

  ‘He’s a teenager,’ Tom said, as if that was all the explanation necessary. ‘You used to live around here so you must know about that house.’

  A shadow of something – some memory or perhaps regret – passed over Inspector Shields’s face. ‘Only too well. I’d just started as a constable in seventy-two. I was one of the first on the scene.’

  ‘Look, I can see what you’re getting at. The rumours about that house and devil worshippers and all the rest of that nonsense. But I’m telling you, Inspector, you’re barking up the wrong tree.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right, Mr Jackson.’ Inspector Shields pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘Depending on how things go with Mr Ferguson – and I’d say it’s a good bet he’s not going to back down – you may well find yourself back here in the near future facing assault charges.’

  Tom showed what he thought of the prospect with a flick of his hand. ‘I need a lift back to the forest.’

  ‘I’ll arrange it.’ The inspector looked Tom up and down – damp trousers, grass-stained shirt missing several buttons, grazed forehead. ‘I’d suggest you take a moment to go home, clean yourself up and get your act together. Because if there’s another incident like the one with Mr Ferguson, I’m going to lock you up. And then you’ll be no use whatsoever to your daughter. Is that clear?’

  Tom exhaled a steadying breath. ‘Crystal.’

  DAY 1

  4.14 P.M.

  They’re still there,’ Amanda said irritably, looking out of the living-room window. The Gazette reporter had moved on, but he’d soon been replaced by a little clutch of other figures taking photos and notes. ‘I don’t know what they think they’re going to see here. They should be at the forest.’ She swished the curtains shut. ‘That’s where I should be too.’

  ‘Then why don’t you go?’

  ‘I need to keep an eye on Jake.’

  ‘I told you, I’ll stay with him.’

  Amanda briefly considered her mum’s offer, then shook her head.

  ‘I know you’re worried about him, Amanda, but you needn’t be,’ continued Cathy. ‘He’s not going anywhere. I’ll make sure of that. I’ll sit on a chair on the landing if that’s what it takes.’

  Amanda chewed her lips uncertainly. In what had become a familiar ritual over the past few hours, she glared at the phone as if she hated it, before snatching it up and punching in a number.

  ‘You won’t get through to him,’ said Cathy. ‘There’s no signal in—’

  Amanda cut her off with a ‘Shh. It’s ringing.’ When the call went through to voicemail, her eyes flashed. ‘Why the bloody hell isn’t Tom answering?’

  At the sound of an engine, she twitched aside the curtains. A police car pulled up and Tom got out, shaking his head as the reporters tried to accost him. Amanda exchanged an anxious glance with her mum. Like someone approaching a crumbling cliff edge, she moved into the hallway. ‘Have they found something?’ she asked as Tom opened the door.

  He shook his head. ‘I’ve just come for a change of clothes.’

  Her head swimming with a bewildering blend of relief and disappointment, Amanda missed the flat, almost cold note in Tom’s voice. She took in his dishevelled appearance. ‘What happened to you?’

  He
rattled off his answer as she followed him up to their bedroom. ‘Oh my god,’ she gasped. ‘Those bastards have got our baby.’

  ‘Inspector Shields doesn’t seem to think so.’ Tom unbuttoned his shirt.

  ‘But why else would that man—’

  ‘I don’t know,’ interrupted Tom, pinching his forehead. ‘I don’t understand anything about what’s happening. All I know is I’m powerless to stop it.’

  ‘No, you’re not. You could go to the camp, tell them you’re not going ahead with the quarry.’

  Tom was momentarily gobsmacked. Then he said, ‘I can’t do that. It’s not only up to me. Eddie—’

  ‘To hell with Eddie.’

  ‘He’s my best mate.’

  Amanda yanked Tom’s hand away from his forehead. ‘Erin’s your daughter!’

  ‘Say I do what you want, you realise what it would mean, don’t you? It would mean they’ve won. And we’d lose everything.’

  ‘Everything except the most important thing.’ Amanda clutched Tom’s hand to her heart. ‘Please, Tom. If you love me, do this.’

  He stared into his wife’s eyes. He stroked her hair and rested his hand against her cheek. ‘I do love you, Amanda.’

  ‘So you’ll do it?’

  He nodded. Tears spilling over her long lashes, she kissed his palm. ‘Thank you, thank you.’

  Tom peered out the window at the police and journalists. ‘We don’t want them following us.’

  ‘We can sneak out the back. Get my mum to meet us in her car on Mill Lane.’

  Tom gently pushed Amanda away and continued undressing. He left his clothes where they fell, hauling on jeans and a polo shirt. She waited restlessly on the landing as he washed the dried blood from his forehead. They hurried downstairs, Amanda calling out, ‘Mum, we need your car.’

  ‘Are you going to the forest?’ asked Cathy.

  ‘No . . . Yes.’

  Cathy’s eyes narrowed. ‘What’s going on?’

  Amanda headed past her towards the back door. ‘Meet us in your car on Mill Lane in five minutes.’

  ‘Why are you sneaking out the back?’

  ‘Please, Mum, there’s no time to explain.’

  Amanda turned to stare desperately at her mum. Sighing, Cathy nodded. Amanda and Tom crossed the back garden and opened a gate. Beyond it was a narrow lane. They waited furtively for Cathy. After a couple of minutes, she appeared in her Mini.

  Cathy placed the ignition key in her daughter’s palm, but kept hold of it. ‘You’re not going to do anything you’re not supposed to, are you?’

  ‘Just give her the keys,’ snapped Tom.

  Cathy gave him a look as if she was sizing up a cheap cut of meat.

  ‘Please, Mum,’ Amanda said again, quivering with urgency.

  Cathy released the key. They accelerated away from her, keeping an eye on the rear-view mirror for pursuing vehicles. Amanda took the same route to Maglin Hill as Tom had that morning – a lifetime ago it seemed now. As they crossed the humpback bridge, Tom’s eyes were drawn to the big house on the river’s far bank. ‘It’ll never be ours now,’ he muttered.

  ‘It’s just a house, Tom.’

  ‘Yeah. Just a house.’ He let out a sharp breath. ‘Even after all these years your mother still looks at me like I’m something she scraped off the bottom of her shoe.’

  Amanda knew better than to open that can of worms. ‘We can get through this.’

  ‘Can we?’

  Her heart gave a hard thump at the spikiness of the question. She darted Tom a searching look. Did he know about the phone call? ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You tell me. You’re the one going around saying our marriage is on the rocks.’

  He doesn’t know, she realised with a rush of relief. ‘I never said any such thing.’

  ‘“I got the impression from your wife that things have been strained between you.” That’s what Inspector Shields said.’

  ‘I honestly don’t know what made him think that. I said it’s been a tough few months, what with everything that’s been going on with the quarry. I didn’t mention anything to do with us. But let’s face it, Tom, things have been difficult between us. You’ve been so caught up with—’

  ‘I don’t want to get into this now,’ he cut in.

  ‘Then why bring it up?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. It’s that bloody Inspector Shields. He says we’re not under suspicion but—’

  ‘He makes you feel the exact opposite,’ Amanda finished her husband’s sentence. ‘He was the same with me.’

  ‘It’s ridiculous. What does he think? That we’d hurt our own child?’ Tom shook his head in disgust. ‘We need to put up a united front. I don’t want that man wasting his time investigating us.’

  ‘You’re right, Tom. I’m sorry.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault. It’s this situation. It’s just so . . .’ His voice thickened. ‘I don’t even know what to call it. It’s like some sort of crazy nightmare.’

  Amanda laid a soft hand on Tom’s shoulder. He heaved a shuddering breath, a frightened look in his eyes. ‘Do you really think we’re going to get through this?’

  Amanda countered his fear with a fiercely determined, ‘Yes.’

  The road climbed out of town between sun-splashed fields. Maglin Hill reared from the sea of green like the hull of a capsized ship. They turned onto the gravel track to the dormant quarry. A makeshift roadblock of tyres and tree trunks had been set up at the quarry’s entrance. A white sheet was strung across it with MIDDLEBURY STONE WANTS TO DESTROY YOUR HERITAGE FOR PROFIT and SHAME ON THEM! emblazoned on it.

  Several activists were chopping veg and tipping it into a big pan suspended over a fire. Others were setting out plates and cutlery on a trestle table in the shade of a quarry wall pocked with blasting holes. A pack of dogs as wiry and scruffy as their owners were sniffing around for scraps. Amanda was struck by how well organised it all looked. Despite the planning decision going against them, the activists appeared upbeat, chatting, smiling and laughing like they were one big happy family. Laughing! A muscle twitched in her cheek. How could they laugh when her daughter was missing?

  A woman popped up from the treehouse and began clanging a cowbell. The dogs accompanied it with a chorus of barks, running out to circle the Mini. With the well-drilled efficiency of a ragtag army, the protesters dropped whatever they were doing and assembled at the roadblock. Amanda’s gaze swept over their dreadlocked, tattooed, pierced ranks and fixed on Greenie’s fox-like face. He was stripped to the waist, displaying a red ‘A’ circled by flames tattooed on the left side of his caved-in chest.

  ‘Tom,’ Amanda said in a cautioning voice as she noticed his fingers curling into fists.

  ‘Wait here.’

  ‘Uh-uh, forget it.’

  ‘I’m not going to do anything stupid.’

  ‘I know because I’m going to make sure of it.’ Amanda laced her fingers into Tom’s and squeezed. Her eyes shone with a brittle intensity that seemed to say, Together we can do this.

  He squeezed back, then they let go of each other and got out. The dogs sniffed at their ankles and eyeballed them warily. Greenie raised his hands, palms outward. ‘That’s as far as you go.’

  Amanda sensed Tom tensing at being told where he could go on his own land. Before he could make any kind of retort, she said quickly, ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘I’ve got nothing to say to you.’

  ‘Well, we have something to say to you which you’re going to want to hear,’ said Tom.

  ‘Then say it and go. You’re not welcome here.’

  Tom glanced at the hostile faces to either side of Greenie. ‘Can we talk alone?’

  Greenie’s shrewd little eyes narrowed as if he suspected a trap. ‘We have no secrets here.’

  ‘Please, Mr Wright,’ said Amanda, a tremor in her voice. ‘I promise it’ll be worth your while.’

  Some of the hardness left Greenie’s face. He consid
ered her words and said, ‘OK, but I can’t allow you into the camp.’ He gestured for Tom and Amanda to follow him along a footpath that skirted around the tents.

  ‘Detective Shields said—’ began Tom.

  Greenie held up a silencing hand and pointed to the stone-crowned summit of Maglin Hill.

  Tom blew an impatient breath. ‘We haven’t got time for—’

  He broke off again as Amanda caught hold of his hand and gave it a sharp squeeze. The path flattened out at the summit, passing through a gap in the grassy bank that encircled the standing stones. As always, Tom found himself vaguely surprised by the sheer size of the monoliths. The nearest to the gap, a flat-faced block with deep vertical channels cut into it, loomed almost three metres tall. Greenie ran his hands over the channels. ‘No one knows what made these. Just like no one knows who put the stones here or why. That’s what I love best about them – the mystery. Each of us is free to see them in our own way. I see them as a family.’ He reverently rested his forehead against the weathered stone. ‘This one’s the mother.’ His gaze moved over the other stones. ‘Those are her daughters.’

  Three of the daughters were slightly shorter than their mother, equally broad at the top, but tapering in at the waist. The fourth was half a metre or so taller and slim from top to bottom. A diagonal channel ran from left to right down her inner face, which was dotted with bowl-shaped indents. ‘She’s the youngest and prettiest,’ said Greenie. ‘I call her Wren because you often see wrens bathing in the hollows on her head. The mother is Wardia. Her name means guardian. She’ll do anything for her children.’

  ‘So will we,’ said Amanda.

  Greenie turned to her, his eyes sympathetic. ‘I was sorry to hear about your daughter.’

  ‘Were you?’ Tom asked sharply.

  The guarded look came back. ‘I’ve a daughter of my own. I can’t imagine how you must feel. I’m amazed you’re here. I thought you’d be looking for her.’

  ‘We are.’

  Greenie’s nut-brown forehead contracted. ‘I’m going to tell you what I told that copper. Craig Ferguson’s got nothing to do with this camp.’

  ‘Bullshit.’