It Could Have Been Her(87)
I watched him paint circles of red onto his cheeks, his dead eyes staring at his reflection in the mirror for a moment, before flicking toward me, sharp and quick as a rattlesnake’s tail. And in that split second, I saw it. Darkness.
I ducked, my breath ragged and harsh in my lungs, and the words he was there pass again through my consciousness. I’d seen that child in the photograph with his wide, innocent eyes, his slick of floppy hair, the colorful mask on his lap, and I’d assumed him to be a victim in all of this too. But at the time that Claire Connolly was trapped in his house, he was not a child—he was a teenager, almost a man—and suddenly I felt the chicken sandwich I’d bought from the village shop at lunchtime start to rise up the back of my throat. I heard the door of the trailer opening, a man’s voice saying, “Hello? Is there someone there?” and slowly, I made my way to the front of the trailer.
“Hi,” I said. “My name is Daisy Black. I think I’m your niece.”
* * *
His face contorted with fear when I introduced myself. He went to shut the door, but I pushed back against it.
“Please,” I said. “I need to talk to you.”
“I have nothing to say to you. Just leave.”
His voice was young and reedy for a grown man.
“Please. You’re the only person who can help me.”
“Go away,” he said, pushing against the door again. “I don’t want to talk to you. Just leave me alone.”
I sighed and let the door shut between us.
“I can tell the police where you are,” I said, breathlessly, through the closed door. “I’m sure they’d like to talk to you. The case is still open; the police searched the house just a while ago. They were asking about you. I could tell them where to find you.”
It fell silent inside the trailer and then a moment later the door opened a crack. “I’ll talk to you,” said Jasper. “OK. But not here. Let’s meet tomorrow.”
“OK. Where?”
“Give me your phone number. I’ll send you a location.”
I didn’t have time to stop or think or work out if this was really what I wanted to do, and I called out the digits of my number through the plastic door.
“Promise me you’ll message me,” I said.
“I promise you.”
* * *
I dreamed hard that night, and when I woke the following morning, I felt rough and hollowed out. I fed Hugo and looked at my phone while he ate. More messages from Stuart. I felt bad, but I was going to get what I needed here and then I could go home. I checked my phone constantly for the next hour and a half, waiting for something from Jasper. And then finally, just as I was beginning to give up, my phone vibrated and there was a set of map coordinates. I put them into my app and saw that it was an area of woodland just behind Waterfowl Park.
My stomach lurched and roiled with anxiety, fear, excitement. I knew I was putting myself in danger, but I also knew this was my last chance to find out the truth about my mother. I went to the private subreddit where I’d been posting about my search for Jasper Black and said: I’ve found him. I’ll post afterward.
* * *
An hour later I clipped a lead to Hugo’s collar, and we set off. The day was warm, and the sky was blue. The combination of nerves and heat from the sun was making me sweat, so I stopped and took off my hoodie and tied it around my waist. I followed the footpath from the back of the local park and out toward the surrounding countryside. I got multiple notifications as I walked, mostly from Reddit people telling me not to go, telling me I was mad. I sent replies as I walked.
I’m fine.
Please don’t worry.
I’m safe.
The map took me off the footpath a few minutes later and into the cool shade of some woodland. And there was Jasper, sitting on a fallen tree. My heart rate soared at the sight of him; he looked both helpless and terrifying.
He got to his feet as he saw me approach. “You brought a dog.”
“Yes. This is Hugo.”
He looked flummoxed by the very concept of a dog. “Does he bite?”
“No, of course he doesn’t bite. Are you scared of dogs?”
“No.” He stared at me for a few long seconds before abruptly turning his gaze back to the middle distance. “You look like her,” he said.
My breath caught. “Claire?”
“Yes.”
“Then Claire…?” I pause. “She was my mother?”
Jasper nodded.
My voice left my body in a desperate wave. “So, where is she? What happened to her?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“Just that. I…”
He sat down again on the fallen tree, and I sat down next to him.
“Our family. Our home. All of it was wrong. All of it. And one day I just couldn’t take it anymore. I just left.”
“You ran away to join the circus.”
“Yes.”
“And when you left, Claire Connolly… was she… in the house?”
He gave a small dip of his chin and said, “I think so.”
“And was she…” I could barely breathe. “Was she safe?”