Gone (24 page)

‘Ayresome Street,’ Lucas said and slammed the door. The driver grunted and pulled away, saying nothing. Lucas was grateful for that at least. He hated chatty taxi drivers.

He watched the grimy streets pass by. Groups of Ben Sherman’d chavs and their slappers piled out of pubs and staggered up the street to the next bar, already unable to stand properly. Several had Santa hats or flashing reindeer antlers on. God, he hated Christmas.

The taxi turned a corner into a residential area. The driver glanced back at Lucas. ‘What number?’ he said.

‘Here’s fine, mate.’

The driver pulled over at the side of the road and turned. Lucas looked at the meter. Three pounds sixty. He didn’t have enough change. He wanted to make a show of counting out the exact money. Instead he pulled a fiver out of his pocket and gave it to the driver.

The driver nodded. ‘Thanks.’

Lucas sat and waited for his change. The driver looked back at him and seemed indignant. He made a show of his own, rummaging around and finding the right coins. He slapped them into Lucas’s palm and Lucas grinned and got out.

‘Have a good night,’ he said and slammed the door. Through the window he could see the driver saying something not altogether flattering as he drove off.

Lucas turned and looked back up the road. It was freezing. Colder than it had been at home, if that was possible. He kept his eyes on the house numbers and came to a stop as he saw the one he was looking for. He could see the shape of a Christmas tree behind the curtain and he wondered if she was there, anticipating a happy Christmas, and what she’d say when she saw his face. The ghost of Christmas past.

Lucas walked up to the house. There was no one around, no one else on the street. He raised his hand and knocked.

No answer.

He moved closer to the window, listening for movement or the sound of the TV.

Nothing.

Lucas tried the door. Locked. He stepped back and looked along the street. The houses were terraced; eight, maybe ten in a row. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped back. He started walking to the end of the row. There had to be a way in at the back. Probably a better way, less conspicuous. He turned the corner and found himself staring at the backs of the houses, small yards behind each. A narrow alley ran along the back, but a blue metal gate restricted access. Lucas glanced behind him. The street was empty so he made a run for the gate and climbed over.

When he worked out which one was hers, he opened the back gate and stepped into the yard. It was empty except for a couple of wheelie bins. He tried the back door. Locked as well. He looked around, spotting a brick outside the gate. He picked it up and smashed it into the door’s narrow windowpane. He didn’t wait to see if anyone was watching, or if anyone had heard. He quickly unlocked the door and went inside.

Lucas stuck his head in the first room. There was a dining table and four chairs but it looked like it was rarely used. Instead of place mats and salt and pepper shakers the table was covered in books and papers. He walked into the living room where the light had been left on and a Christmas tree stood in the window. Lucas looked around. There were some letters on the table. He bent down to look at the name on the labels. Adam Quinn. Adam Quinn. Adam Quinn.

Lucas stood up and went to the mantelpiece. Not even a photograph. He picked up a Christmas card. It was just signed ‘best wishes from Karen’. He put it down just as car lights shone in on him. He went to the window and watched someone get out of a taxi across the road. He turned and started up the stairs.

He walked into the bedroom. The double bed took up most of the room. He could see that, but it was too dark to make out anything else. He flicked on the light using his elbow. He still couldn’t see any photos, nothing to give him any certainty. He scanned the room. It was a mess. And then he noticed it on the bedside cabinet. A diary.

Lucas sat on the edge of the bed. He picked it up, flipping to the first page where personal details should’ve been.

Empty. He flicked through. Most of the pages were blank. Whoever the diary belonged to didn’t have much of a life. He stopped when he saw writing.
Adam’s birthday
. He flicked further, past more empty pages. And then something fell out, fluttering to the floor. Lucas bent to pick it up. It was an address. He was about to shove it back in when he stopped. The address was in Alnwick. A smile started to spread across his face.

He slid the paper into his pocket and stood up. He wondered if she could’ve gone there already. He turned off the light as he walked out of the room and then froze as he heard the door.

Chapter 54

6 July 1999

Lucas pushed his way out, not caring whose drinks he knocked over in the process. Some fat cow with a Tango tan screeched after him that he owed her a drink. Any other time he would’ve stopped, had a word with her, but he didn’t have time now. The sound of Robbie Williams faded as the door slammed behind him.

He made his way outside, walking into the road to see better. He knew it was her. Could tell her hair from a mile away. Blonde. The colour of butter. Lurpak, Tomo said one night. He was off his face, thought he was being poetic. He was just being a dick.

A car beeped at him and Lucas gave the driver the finger without turning. He could see her at the end of the street. She was walking with her head down. He started to run after her.

‘Emma!’

She almost stopped but instead looked over her shoulder before speeding up. She dodged a group of old folk with small, yappy dogs and turned the corner. Lucas picked up his pace. By the time he reached her he was almost out of breath but he knew it wasn’t from the running.

He moved in front of her, blocking her path. She didn’t look at him, just kept trying to get round him.

‘I was shouting you,’ he said. She ignored him and turned to walk back the way she’d come. ‘Oi,’ he said. ‘I’m talking to you.’ He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

‘Leave me alone,’ Emma said and tried to pull away. Lucas gripped harder and pushed her against the window of the bookies. No one batted an eyelid. All eyes on the race.

‘Where’ve you been?’ he asked her, pressing himself into her body. ‘Eh? Answer me. Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking for you. I know you were at your mate’s house when I came round. I know you saw what I did to her brother. None of that would’ve happened if you’d just come out and talked to me.’

Emma looked up and down the street. If she thought anyone was going to interfere she had another think coming. People knew better than to bother him.

Lucas ducked his head, trying to force her to look him in the eye. He knew what she’d done. He just wanted her to say it. He pressed himself harder into her.

‘Stop it,’ she said.

Lucas grabbed her by the throat and shoved her into the wall. ‘I know what you did,’ he said and watched her eyes fill up. ‘I know you went behind my back, Emma. Got rid of it.’ She tried to shake her head but his grip was too tight. ‘I know what you did and you’re going to pay for it.’ The tears were really coming now. He could feel them, hot and wet, trickling onto his hand. ‘You think you can do that without telling me and get away with it?’ He punched her in the stomach and she crumpled. ‘I don’t think so, Em.’

He started to pull her up. ‘You think you’ve had it bad up to now. You haven’t seen nothing, darling. Better keep your eyes open, Em, or else you and your daddy are gonna both be sorry.’

The door to the bookies opened and a group of disappointed punters streamed out. One broke away from the gang and stopped to light a fag. ‘All right, Lucas,’ he said.

Lucas pulled Emma towards him, his hand around her neck. ‘You better watch out, Emma, ’cause you and your fucking poof of a mate are both dead.’

Emma wriggled out of his grasp as Mikey approached him. ‘I’ll be seeing you,’ he said and let her go.

As Mikey started spouting off about losing all his giro in one go, Lucas tried to control himself. His blood was boiling. He looked over his shoulder as Emma ran down the street.

He’d see her later. She could bet on it.

Chapter 55

16 December 2010

Louise walked into the house, glad to be out of the cold. She closed the door behind her and stood for a moment, thinking the place was too quiet without Adam. Without him coming to the door to greet her. Maybe she should get used to it.

She’d been out, walking around for hours. She couldn’t bear being in there. Alone with her thoughts. It was driving her crazy. Every time she heard a car outside, every time she saw a shadow, she thought it was the police. Thought they’d figured it out. What she’d done. She couldn’t take it any more. She’d considered leaving. Just disappearing. Becoming someone new. Someone without a past. But she knew she couldn’t leave Adam. He was the best thing in her life. The
only
thing in her life. She could be a real person with him, a different person. Almost.

She shrugged off her coat and draped it over the banister. Adam would be back the next day. And maybe things would be okay. Maybe the police would leave her alone.

She turned towards the living room and then stopped. She thought she heard something upstairs. She stood still, listening. All she could hear was her heart beating and the gentle pitter-patter of drizzle on the windows.

She took a step and stopped again. She definitely heard something. A creaky floorboard.

Someone was upstairs.

‘Adam?’ she said, turning towards the stairs. Maybe he’d come home early. She hoped so. ‘Adam?’ she said again, putting one foot on the stair.

A shadow moved on the landing. She paused. And then the shadow moved and became a person and her heart stopped.

‘Hello, Emma,’ said Lucas.

Chapter 56

16 December 2010

Lucas took a moment to watch the fear spread over her face. It was like the last eleven years had never happened. When he’d first heard the news about her death he’d felt something. Not sadness. Pity, maybe. Disappointment someone else had got to her before he had. And then DS Freeman had shown him the picture of the trackie top and he knew. Knew it wasn’t her who’d been buried in the woods after all. Thing was, he knew who it really was, only he couldn’t work out how she’d got there.

He watched Emma. She was shaking. Maybe she thought she’d got away with it. That she’d never see him again. He wondered if she’d just stand there all night, staring. And then she answered his question by bolting.

He took the stairs three at a time and grabbed hold of her arm before she’d even got the door open. She tried to pull away, screaming and clawing at him. She’d grown a spine since the last time he’d seen her.

Lucas flinched as her nails scraped the side of his face and he shoved her into the door. Her head smacked into it hard and she finally stopped screaming. He pulled her up straight and dragged her into the living room, pushing her down onto the settee. She tried to move but he straddled her, keeping her down.

‘I reckon it’s time we had a chat, don’t you?’ Lucas said, watching her eyes dart around the room. ‘But maybe we can get to that in a minute.’ He grinned at her, pushing himself against her. He liked that she struggled.

He leaned into her, his mouth against her ear. ‘I’ve missed this,’ he said and unzipped his jeans. Emma wriggled beneath him and he sat back to see her face. He laughed as she reached over the side of the settee, searching for something. What was she going to do? Call the police? She wasn’t that stupid.

He didn’t see it coming until it was too late. The laptop smacked the side of his head and he fell backwards onto the floor. He reached out as she fled from the room, blinking as blood dripped onto his eyelashes.

‘Emma.’

He heard the door open and scrambled to his feet. He felt his head spin as he stood and grabbed the door frame to steady himself. He wiped the blood away and staggered towards the open door.

He couldn’t see her but she couldn’t have got far. He tried to recall which way was the town centre. He didn’t know what was in the other direction but she’d surely head towards people. He pushed himself away from the wall, the door slamming behind him and started jogging up the street. His head was pounding.

He looked around. There were little streets going off in all directions. She could’ve gone down any of them. He stopped and listened for signs of life. For any echo of footsteps. But there was nothing except the sound of a distant siren.