Cruel Minds (17 page)

Letting out a deep sigh, he stepped off the path, then looked back to make sure Helen was following. Any relief he felt was instantly snatched away. Helen stood on the path, shoulders up to her ears, wide eyes staring off into the distance.

“What is it?” Jerome whispered.

She lifted a hand and pointed into the shadows. “There’s something there.”

Cursing under his breath, Jerome stepped back onto the path. It took a few seconds for his eyes to find what she was looking at. Then, his heart slamming against his chest, he slowly backed away.

“Oh God,” he said. “We need to find Emily.”

E
mily leaned in closer towards Oscar’s body, thankful that the tarpaulin still covered his face. She checked the ground in case the photograph had slipped from his pocket but it wasn’t there. Someone had taken it.

In the middle of the clearing, Melody peered between her fingers.

“We shouldn’t be here,” she said, removing her hands from her face and curling them into tight balls. “We’re supposed to be looking for Sam.”

“The man in the picture was white. He had dark hair, dark eyes, a scar just here.” Emily pointed to her eyebrow. “He looked about the same age as Marcia. Sound familiar?”

“That could be anybody.” Melody moved to leave the clearing but Emily remained where she was, her gaze moving from Oscar’s body to the tree.

Who’d known about the photograph? She’d only told Jerome and Pamela. Sam had been there when Helen had pulled it from Oscar’s pocket. When the three of them had returned to the house, Pamela had pulled Sam straight into her living quarters for a talking to, and Emily and Jerome had argued on the back porch. That left one person unaccounted for. Someone who would have had the opportunity to run back, take the photograph, and return in time for Ben and Sylvia’s grand escape.

“Helen,” Emily breathed. She hadn’t looked happy about returning her next lead to Oscar’s pocket. It had to have been her. Unless... She looked over her shoulder into the forest. Sam had left Emily and Pamela in the Hardys’ living room. And gone where?

“I don’t understand. Why would someone take that photograph?” Melody said, rubbing her hands against her bare arms.

“It’s a good question. Come on.”

They left the clearing, picking up the path and following it through the forest. As they continued on, so did Melody’s chatter.

“Poor Oscar,” she said. “He must have felt very sad. I mean, we all feel sad sometimes, don’t we? Miserable even, until you don’t want to get out of bed. But I suppose you just have to bounce back, don’t you? And come to places like Meadow Pines to help make yourself feel better.”

Oscar doesn’t look like he’s feeling better, Emily thought, then decided to keep that observation to herself.

“But it’s very worrying, don’t you think, about Marcia? She’s been gone for hours. I’m sure there’s a good explanation, and I’m sure she’s fine, but it will certainly be a relief when she comes back with the police, won’t it?”

They reached the stream and made quick work of crossing the stepping stones. Above them, the sun dipped an inch further below the treeline.

“I suppose with everything that’s happened and with the weekend finishing early, it means we won’t get our picture taken together,” Melody sighed, stopping to scratch her leg.

“What do you mean?” Emily asked. “What picture?”

“At the end of every weekend, Pamela gathers all of the guests and takes a group photograph, which she adds to her Happiness Hall of Fame. Well, that’s what she calls it, but it’s really just a photo album.” Her shoulders sagged as they picked up the path again. “I would have liked my picture taken with you and the others. Perhaps not with Ben and Sylvia, though. Or Helen.”

They walked on, the undergrowth becoming thicker and impassable in places. When Emily became unsure of the way, Melody took the lead.

“Who do you think that man is anyway?” Melody asked, after a long bout of silence. Her expression had turned grave. “The one from the photograph.”

“I don’t know.” A gentle lapping of water reached Emily’s ears and she moved towards it. “But I think somebody here does and they’re keeping quiet about it.”

“Why would you think that?”

Emily came to a halt. “Because I don’t believe that Oscar killed himself.”

Melody startled the forest with a strange, frightened laugh. “You think someone ... no, that’s just silly. Why would anyone want to hurt Oscar? Besides, no one here is capable of doing something like that.”

“You’d be surprised what people are capable of,” Emily said.

They emerged from the trees and came upon the lake. Long, scarlet flames of sunset burned across its surface, setting fire to the forest’s reflection. Wisps of clouds floated at the edges, suggesting a change in the weather was on its way. Emily moved along the shore with Melody close behind. They reached the jetty and walked to the end. Melody sat down, legs dangling over the water. Beside them, the small boat tugged on its moorings.

“I wonder if they found Sam,” Emily said. Knots of anxiety were knitting together in her stomach and twisting around her insides. She sat down beside Melody and took in a deep breath. A flock of birds sprang up from the lake and headed for the treetops. Staring into the waters, Emily tried to forget the horrors of the day and, just for a moment, focus on the tranquil surroundings.

Melody began to hum under her breath. She swung her legs back and forth like a child.

“It’s not fair,” she said suddenly, her voice filled with anger.

“What?”

“That Meadow Pines could close.”

Emily felt bad for having suggested it. After all, Meadow Pines seemed to be Melody’s only asylum from an unhappy, lonely life.

“I was just thinking the worst. It might not happen,” she said, trying to sound convincing.

“Nobody will want to come here anymore. That’s what you said, isn’t it? Well, I’ll still want to come here. Even if what you say about Oscar is true. But what if you
are
right? What if Meadow Pines does shut down for good? Where will I go then?”

Emily stared at the water. Above the lake, the sunset seared the sky. “There are other places, Melody.”

“But I don’t want other places. And what about Pamela and Marcia? This is their home. Where are they supposed to go?”

“They’ll find somewhere new.”

Emily leaned forwards. Something was floating in the water, bobbing up and down a few metres in front of the jetty.

“What’s that?” She squinted, trying to make out the object in the half-light. It was small and black. She was surprised she’d noticed it at all.

“I don’t see anything,” Melody said.

It moved closer, carried along by the current. Jumping to her feet, Emily jogged down the jetty. She returned a minute later with a long, thin branch. She searched the water for the object. It had floated to the left and was now just two metres away. Sinking to her knees, Emily leaned over the water and reached out with the branch.

Melody watched with mounting curiosity. Emily lunged forwards. The branch hit the object and dragged it under the water. It resurfaced a second later, bouncing up and down. Her second attempt went wide. She lunged for a third time, snagging the object on the end of the branch.

“What is it?” asked Melody. She pulled up her feet and watched as Emily freed the object and held it between finger and thumb. Water rained down onto the planks.

“It’s a wallet.”

Brushing pondweed and grit from the black leather, Emily unfolded it. There was no money inside, no coins weighing it down. But there were cards. Emily pulled one out from a pocket. It was a credit card. As her eyes moved down, examining the cardholder’s name, adrenaline shot through her veins.

“This is Oscar’s wallet,” she said.

She handed the card to Melody, who reacted as if she’d just been given a spider to hold. The card dropped from her hand and landed face up on the jetty. Emily studied the rest of the wallet’s contents. A card holder with a clear plastic face sat in the centre. She cleaned off the dirt. Oscar’s face stared back at her. At first, Emily thought it was a driver’s license. Then, as she inspected it closer, she drew in a sharp breath. Above Oscar’s picture were the words:
Oscar Jansen, Private Investigations
.

Voices filled the air. Jerome and Helen stepped out from the trees on the west side of the lake.

“Come on,” Emily said. Folding the wallet, she got to her feet. Together they walked the length of the jetty, back onto land.

Jerome smiled a quick, nervous smile as they came closer. Emily could sense something was wrong.

“No sign of Sam either?” he said. Beside him, Helen’s skin was pale against the orange light.

“No, but we did find this.” Emily opened Oscar’s wallet and fished out the card. “It was floating in the lake.”

Jerome held it up to his face. The failing light made it difficult to read. Helen snatched it from him.

“Oscar’s a private investigator? Why would a P.I. be here at Meadow Pines?”

Emily took the card back and replaced it in the wallet.

“We found something too,” said Jerome, his voice faltering.

“What is it?”

“It’s best you come and see for yourself.”

Emily stared at him, at his hardening expression.

“What is it?” she repeated.

T
he Land Rover was parked beneath the thick, gnarled branches of an ancient yew tree, which curled and twisted liked the tentacles of a Lovecraftian beast. The driver door was open, its window shattered. Shards of glass carpeted the earth. Emily stared through the open door. Splashes of blood dotted the steering wheel. A partial bloody handprint was pressed into the windscreen. Her throat drying, she turned and examined the ground. Blades of grass beneath the tree were flat, as if something had been dragged through. Stooping, she ran her hand through the blades, then recoiled when her fingertips came away wet and dark.

“I don’t believe any of this,” Melody said, her voice shattering the silence. She was crying. “Sam is a good person. He would never hurt anyone. Especially not Marcia. He
loves
Marcia.”

Emily stood and wiped her fingers against her jeans. “Hold on now, Melody. No one said anything about Sam being responsible. And we have no idea what happened here. Let’s not jump to conclusions, okay?”

“You don’t need to say anything! I can see it on all of your faces. But you’re wrong. Sam is good and kind.” She turned on Emily. “You think he killed Oscar, don’t you? That he’s run away. He doesn’t even know Oscar!”

“You need to calm yourself down. Get a grip,” Helen said, clearly lacking any degree of patience.

Emily stared at her. With the discovery of Oscar’s wallet and now the blood-covered Land Rover, it was not the time for more ill-feeling.

“Someone’s taken the picture from Oscar’s body,” she said. “I need to know if it was you.”

“Me?” Helen pressed her hand against her chest. Her wounded façade lasted for about three seconds. “Look, I agree I may have overstepped the mark a little today, and that I can sometimes be a little forthcoming with my opinions, but one thing I don’t do is lie. And I’m telling you that I have not been back to Oscar’s body since we left it.”

Emily nodded. “I believe you.”

She did. There was an honesty in Helen’s eyes that could not be faked. It didn’t mean she was about to become friends with the woman, though. Or even polite acquaintances. She glanced over at Jerome, who had remained silent since bringing them to the Land Rover. He stood, watching the trees, his eyes darting back and forth.

“I have a theory,” Emily said, returning her attention to Helen.

“Let’s hear it.”

Jerome moved in closer. Melody had stopped crying and was now crouched over with her back turned to them.

Emily cleared her throat. “Oscar was a private investigator. Let’s suppose the reason he’s carrying a picture of that man is because he’s been hired to look for him.”

Helen chewed her lip. “Sounds reasonable. Often, families of missing relatives will turn to private investigators once the police have drawn a blank.”

“So if Oscar’s search brought him here, it can only mean one thing. The man from the picture must have visited Meadow Pines.” She paused, catching Jerome’s eye. “There’s something else. Oscar’s room is next to mine. Last night, I heard raised voices. He was arguing with someone. With a woman.”

Melody turned to find Helen staring at her.

“It wasn’t me! I didn’t even know him!” she cried, threatening to dissolve into hysterics one again.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t me, either. So that leaves Janelle, Sylvia, Pamela, or Marcia.”

The bloody handprint on the Land Rover windscreen caught Emily’s eye. A sliver of ice slipped between her shoulder blades.

“Marcia wasn’t here. I saw her walking in with Sam this morning. She’d spent the night at his place in Lyndhurst.”

“Perhaps it was Sylvia,” Jerome suggested. “After all, she and Ben robbed us. Perhaps they killed Oscar too.”

Melody stood up, freshly-picked bluebells in her hands.

“It crossed my mind. But that doesn’t explain what’s happened to Marcia. Or to Sam,” Emily said.

They were quiet for a minute. Above them, a breeze rustled the canopies. It would be dark soon.

“I think we should go back to the house,” Jerome said. He looked tired, Emily thought. Tired and afraid. “Pamela needs to know what we’ve found.”

Everyone agreed.

As they turned to leave, Melody placed the bluebells on the front of the Land Rover, then caught up with the others.

They moved quickly, negotiating their way through the forest. All around them, shadows lengthened and merged. As they reached the house, dusk snuffed out the last embers of sunset.

“Why don’t you go ahead,” Helen said, stopping in front of the garden gate. “There’s something I want to check out.”

Emily shook her head. It was a bad idea. “In another half an hour you won’t be able to see your hands in front of your face.”

“Jerome and I found something. A shed.”

“You mean we found a shed with a big padlock on the door,” Jerome corrected.