Jay stands in the white gloss kitchen, looking into the living room that is so similar to mine, except the sofa is lime green and there is no animal head on the wall. Instead there is a cow-hide rug on the wooden floor. ‘It looks perfectly empty.’
I put a hand to my head. My brain feels frazzled. ‘I don’t understand it. Someone was here yesterday.’
‘Well,’ he says, a note of irritation in his voice, ‘there’s nobody here now.’
I can’t believe this. Surely whoever was here would have left some sign. I return to the main bedroom. The duvet on the bed is unwrinkled. The wardrobe is empty. There’s nothing under the bed. I sniff the air. Not even the smell of dog. I go into the en-suite, open the cupboard under the sink and check the shower for signs of use. Nothing. I do the same in the twin room.
‘Well?’ says Jay, standing at the doorway, his brow creased.
I shake my head. ‘It’s weird. Someone was here. But now there’s no sign of them.’
‘The lock hasn’t been tampered with. There’s no sign of a forced entry.’ He sighs. ‘This is sadly the kind of thing that goes on here.’
I turn to him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, just strange happenings. Talk of the supernatural, the paranormal.’ He shrugs as if he doesn’t believe any of it.
I remember Ralph’s talk of alien abduction. ‘Ah, yes, I’ve read a few things,’ I say. ‘For research.’
‘You said on the phone when you booked that you’re making a podcast on the Olivia Rutherford case.’
I nod.
‘Well, if you’d like an interview I’m more than willing. I wasn’t living here when Olivia’s friends went missing, I moved here the year after, but I know the town very well. And the people in it. All the crackpot theories and the charlatans.’
‘The charlatans?’ I’m intrigued.
‘Oh, there’s a medium who vows she knows something. She’s got a lot of people fooled around here. Not me, mind. I don’t believe for one moment that she’s got the second sight or whatever it is she claims she has.’
I think back to the sign on the high street I noticed when I first arrived. ‘Do you mean Madame Tovey?’
‘Yep.’ He clasps his clipboard to his chest. ‘She might be worth talking to, but take everything she says with a pinch of salt.’ He sniggers. ‘She’ll definitely add a … How shall I put it nicely? Some local flavour to your podcast.’
‘Great,’ I say, pleased that someone actually wants to be interviewed. ‘Can I meet you later? I need to get my car. I’ve left it in the forest.’
‘Oh?’ He raises his eyebrows questioningly.
‘Long story,’ I reply. I wonder if he knows about Ralph Middleton. I’m assuming he must, considering he was found dead on his land. I decide to wait until later to ask him about that.
‘I’ve got a few things to do this morning but why don’t you come by the offices around two p.m.?’ He opens his briefcase and extracts a card. ‘Here, the address is on there. But if you turn down Halfpenny Lane and make a right, opposite Stafferbury Stables, and keep going until you get to the end of the road, my offices are on the industrial estate there.’
I take the card and return to my own cabin, suffused with unease and paranoia. I change quickly, without showering, suddenly desperate to escape the cabin, the forest and the unshaken sense of being watched.
21
Olivia
When Olivia opens her eyes she is instantly hit with a sense of impending doom, fear and regret. And then she remembers why. It’s the twentieth anniversary today. She wishes she could go back, close her eyes and wake up on this day in 1998. She would do so many things differently.
The doorbell rings as she’s getting out of bed. Her mum will be in the yard feeding the horses. She hastily pulls on yesterday’s jodhpurs and jumper and makes her way down the stairs, holding on to the banister for support.
Her stomach plummets when she opens the front door and sees Dale with a younger man at his side. Dale’s hair is standing up in peaks and the end of his nose is red from the cold. ‘Sorry to bother you so early,’ he says, blowing on his hands. The air feels icy and swirls around her bare ankles. ‘This is DC Liam Stirling. Can we come in? We’d just like to ask you some questions.’
Her mouth goes dry and she wishes desperately that she’d stayed the night at Wesley’s after all. She doesn’t think she can do this alone. But she has no choice other than to step aside and let them in. They follow her down the narrow hallway and to the kitchen. They look wrong sitting at the little pine table, Dale and his weird socks and this DC Liam Stirling with his bright blond hair and boyish dimples. He looks like he should be at college, not on the police force.
She offers them both a coffee, which they accept. As she’s pouring boiling water into their mugs, Dale says, ‘I’m afraid we’ve got some bad news.’
Her hand shakes as she lowers the kettle. She doesn’t trust herself to bring their mugs to the table without dropping them or spilling the coffee.
‘I think you should sit down,’ suggests Dale. He gets up and helps her carry the coffees.
When he’s sitting, facing her, he says gravely, ‘Ralph Middleton was found dead last night.’ He gives her a moment to digest this information.
She can’t speak. She remembers their last conversation. The hurt in his eyes. Her tears. Oh, Ralph.
She buries her head in her hands as blood rushes to her ears. She can hear Dale’s soothing voice telling her how sorry he is, and asking if there is anyone who can come and sit with her. She lifts her head. ‘No. I’m fine.’
‘I understand you went to visit him yesterday. Around four?’
She nods, her palms sweating. She can’t tell him what they talked about.
‘You were seen leaving his caravan in tears.’
She glances across at DC Stirling. He hasn’t said one word, but has a notebook open on the table and is looking at her intently with his clear blue eyes.
‘Yes.’ She blinks back tears. ‘We had a silly disagreement. It was nothing, really. I was … I was trying to tell him to cut down on the drinking. To eat more healthily. To look after himself. I felt a sense of duty, I suppose. He saved my life all those years ago.’
Can they tell she’s lying? She’s never been very good at deception, at keeping secrets. DC Stirling scribbles something down.
‘How?’ she asks, gulping. ‘How did Ralph die?’
‘We think it was a head injury although we won’t know for sure until the post-mortem,’ Dale says.
‘Could he have fallen and banged his head?’
Dale shakes his head. ‘It’s looking suspicious at the moment. I’m so sorry, Olivia. I know it’s a horrible thought that someone would want to hurt Ralph deliberately.’
Her chest tightens as it hits her that Ralph is actually dead. His animals. Oh, God, she hadn’t thought about them. Where were Bertie and Tiddles and Timmy Willy and all the others? She’d need to find them. She’d adopt them, bring them here. It was the least she could do.
‘Olivia?’ Dale’s voice penetrates her thoughts. ‘I think I should get your mum, or Wesley. I don’t think you should be alone.’