It’s from her mum. She opens it, and as her eye sweeps over the sentence, her blood runs cold. It’s just one line. Something she thought her mother would never say.
We need to talk about your father.
37
Jenna
I’ve not been able to sleep since I saw the note in the fireplace. Only two people were here tonight, Dale and Olivia. One of them must have thrown the note away. I think of how Dale helped me earlier, offering to drive Olivia home for me and bringing me fish and chips. It was kind of him. But now I’m wondering if he had an ulterior motive. Could he have taken the note when he was preparing the plates and cutlery? Or was it already gone by then? Had Olivia found it when I was in the toilet and tried to dispose of it? I frown and turn over in bed, feeling frustrated.
Suddenly I hear a noise, like a car door banging. I jump out of bed and grab my dressing-gown, wrapping it around myself as I pull aside my curtains. It’s dark outside with just the outline of the trees in the distance. Even the little lights in the branches opposite have been turned off. I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. I must have dreamt it. It’s nothing. I’m about to turn and go back to bed when I hear a bark, then see movement. It looks like two shadows moving as one, and as I blink, trying to adjust to the dark, I see that they’re in the shape of a man and a dog. A big dog. Like a German Shepherd. My heart races as I watch. They’re moving towards the cabin opposite and it’s not my imagination: a light is flickering beyond the narrow rectangular window. I’m convinced it’s the man I saw when I first arrived although it’s too dark to tell. I’m not sure if he’s alone. Is someone waiting inside for him to return? I check the time on my mobile. It’s gone midnight. I contemplate trying to take a photo but it’s too dark so I scroll through my contacts until I get to Dale’s number. And then I hesitate. Can I trust him? I shake my head, angry with myself. I have to trust him. He’s a detective. He’s a good guy. And I have no choice.
He picks up immediately. ‘Hey,’ he says, his voice soft. ‘Are you okay?’
‘The man I was telling you about? The one with the German Shepherd? He’s back,’ I blurt out. ‘I can see him now. He’s going into the cabin opposite.’
‘Okay, I’m coming over.’ He ends the call and I keep watch at the window. The man is going into the cabin now but as he does so he turns to look towards me. He’s wearing a hooded coat, but even if he wasn’t, he’s too far away for me to distinguish his features. I close the curtains and wrap my arms around my body feeling chilled to the bone. Is that the person responsible for killing Ralph, the person who attacked me, who left animal carcasses on my front porch? What have I stumbled into here? I pad into the living room, feeling safer there, and pace the length of it while I wait for Dale. I’m suddenly wide awake, adrenalin pumping through my body. I go back into the bedroom and pull jeans and a jumper over my nightwear. Then I hurry back into the kitchen, just in case I’ve missed something in the two minutes I’ve been away, but from the window I can no longer see any lights on or any activity from the cabin opposite. Everything outside feels unnaturally black. Not like Manchester. Here the darkness feels thick and never ending. Stifling.
Suddenly, two round headlights penetrate the darkness, bouncing over the bumps in the track, illuminating a fine rain. It’s Dale, thank God. He pulls up behind my car and steps out. He has a heavy-duty torch and the beam is bright. He sweeps it around, landing on the cabin opposite. I run to the door and wrench it open just as he’s by the bonnet of my car. He lowers the torch.
‘Did you say that cabin there?’ he asks, pointing his torch towards Foxglove without even stopping to say hello.
‘Yes. Wait, let me grab my coat.’
‘No. Stay here. It might not be safe.’
I ignore him, pulling on my wellies, but he’s stalked off in the direction of the cabin, the light from his torch turning everything in front of him a dull, hazy brown. I close the door and hurry after him, almost slipping on the wet mud as I shoulder on my coat.
‘I told you to stay inside,’ he mutters, when I’ve caught up with him. ‘For fuck’s sake, Jenna. This isn’t a game. Don’t you ever do as you’re told?’
I don’t reply. Instead I hang back behind him and thrust my hands into my pockets, feeling for the mace and relaxing when my fingers find it. I bring it out and hold it by my side. A faint slant of light is visible around the curtains at the front window. My heart is beating fast and I tighten my grip on the spray. The door is flung open by a man with a halo of dark wiry hair tinged with grey and a cross expression. He’s in his sixties with weathered skin and very dark brown eyes that flash with annoyance. He’s not what I expected.
‘Sorry to disturb you so late. I’m Detective Sergeant Dale Crawford,’ he says, holding up his badge.
‘It’s gone twelve thirty in the morning,’ says the man, rubbing a hand across the stubble on his chin. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘We’ve had a report that someone has been staying in this cabin illegally,’ explains Dale. The man frowns. From behind him I hear a woman’s voice. Then she appears at the doorway in a velour tracksuit tucked into Ugg boots, her blonde hair piled on top of her head in a topknot.
‘What’s going on?’ She has a European accent I can’t quite place.
‘The officer seems to think we’re staying here illegally,’ he says, turning to her. ‘José, get the printout, will you?’
She disappears from view.
‘Can I take your name?’ Dale asks, lowering his torch and pulling out his notebook from his inside pocket. He must carry that around with him everywhere.
I hear a dog bark and a yellow Labrador pokes its head from around the man’s legs. A Labrador. Not a German Shepherd, after all. I oscillate between feeling relieved and embarrassed.
‘It’s Samuel and Josephine Molina,’ says the man, folding his arms across a heavy jumper. He’s tall and attractive in a rugged older-man kind of way. ‘We’ve only just arrived. But we’re booked in until Sunday.’
Josephine is back and thrusts a piece of paper into Dale’s hand. ‘We were both working today so came late,’ she explains. She glances past Dale as though noticing me for the first time. ‘We didn’t mean to cause any disturbance.’
I can feel myself blush but, hopefully, it’s too dark for her to notice. ‘Not at all,’ I say, waving a hand in her direction. ‘There’s just been a little mistake, that’s all.’
‘Okay,’ she says, but her expression is still puzzled and her blue eyes flit back to Dale.
Dale returns the paper to her. ‘It all looks in order. Sorry to disturb you,’ he says. ‘But I do feel I should make you aware that a man was found dead in this forest on Tuesday evening.’
The woman’s face is a picture of horror. ‘What? We weren’t told about this. How?’
‘We’re still looking into it. So, please, if you see anyone acting suspiciously let me or one of my colleagues know.’ He hands her a card with his details on. She takes it.