Long Time Lost (28 page)

Inside the chalet, a place Miller had never ventured into before, the bare wood had been varnished in honey tones and the floorboards were waxed and buffed. The modest downstairs functioned as a kitchen and living space combined. It was neat and orderly – the complete opposite of the bedroom Melanie had kept as a teenager.

There was a log fire in the middle of the lounge area and Nico and Mia were sprawled on a rug in front of it, playing a board game with dice and counters. They were lean and rangy kids, a touch feral, aged eight and six, with curly white-blonde hair and startling blue eyes. They lifted their heads when Miller and Kate came in but they didn’t smile or wave. They looked to their father for an explanation instead. Miller guessed that visitors had to be rare at the chalet, particularly walking inside looking bedraggled in soaked clothes and muddy boots in the middle of a mountain storm.

Timo spoke to Nico and Mia in a hushed but stern burst of Swiss-German, and Miller watched as the kids glanced at him accusingly, then got to their feet and left the room, stomping hard on the wooden treads that led to the bedrooms above.

He stepped around the plaid sofa and stood in front of the fire, feeling the heat on his face and hands. His jacket was steaming, water dripping from his clothes. He waited until he heard bedsprings overhead and was sure the children weren’t eavesdropping before he began.

‘There are two men coming here. They have guns. They also have Hanson and Becca and two of my clients held captive in the back of their van. One of them is a child. A four-year-old girl.’

Miller didn’t look at Melanie or Timo or Kate. He stared into the flames, thinking of the fire that had burned down his home and had seemed, for just a little while, to offer Melanie a way out. But it hadn’t saved her for him.

He wanted to turn and take her in his arms. He wanted to hug her and stroke her hair, to whisper in her ear how sorry he was for all that had happened and for everything since.

But Melanie was keeping her distance. She was clinging to Timo, her fists knotted in the fleece sweater he had on.

‘We have radio here,’ Timo said. ‘I can contact the police.’

‘No police.’

‘Miller.’ Kate was at his side. ‘Maybe he’s right. Maybe we should consider it.’

‘He’s not. And we shouldn’t.’

Miller pulled away and moved over to the tiny window in the front wall of the chalet. He tugged the gingham curtain aside and looked across the meadow through the slanted rainfall at the lone SUV and the storm skies twitching in the east.

‘All of you need this over with. I need this over with.’

He glanced at Kate, who’d dropped on to the couch, her hands clasped together in her lap.

‘Contact the police and it all starts again. It just begins somewhere else.’

‘You’re talking about killing these men?’ Timo asked him.

‘I’m talking about ending a threat.’

‘What if they kill you first?’

‘I won’t let that happen. You want to hold on to your life here, don’t you? Your home? Your kids? My daughter?’

Miller sneaked a look at Melanie. How long was it since he’d been able to look at her this close? He’d tried to visit often. He’d tried to stay a part of her life. But Melanie had been angry with him; was angry still. She resented him because she hadn’t been able to say goodbye to her mother. She hated how he’d seized on Anna’s death to protect her.

‘Why now?’ She shook her head at him, as though warning him not to look at her that way. ‘What changed?’ She flicked her eyes at Kate. ‘And who is she?’

‘We don’t have time to go into it now.’

‘No, you have time and you’ll tell me. This time, I need to know why. It’s my life, isn’t it? That’s what we’re talking about here.’

Thunder detonated in the sky above, rumbling through the chalet, and Miller looked towards the window again. A flare of light bathed the side of his face.

‘Tell them,’ Kate said. ‘Melanie’s right, they deserve it.’

So he did. He told them about the trial Russell faced for the murder of Helen Knight and how Kate had been due to testify. He told them he’d saved Kate from an attempt on her life but that things had started to go wrong soon afterwards. He told them how his network of clients had begun to fracture and collapse, leading Connor Lane’s men to Switzerland, client by client, link by link. He told them people had been killed, others badly injured.

He didn’t tell them how Kate had been a part of it at the end. He didn’t tell them about the wire that had been concealed beneath her clothes, or how his need to confide in her had led them here.

Timo and Melanie didn’t interrupt him as he talked. They didn’t sit down. They just stood and listened and clung to each other as if they were standing out in the storm, huddling against the worst of the wind and the rain.

Finally, when he was done, Miller looked at Melanie again. Really looked this time, searching for some level of understanding or forgiveness. But she wouldn’t give it to him.

‘So you’ll wait for them to come and you’ll kill them. With Nico and Mia in the house. That’s your big plan, knowing what they did to us before? Have you learned nothing?’

‘No,’ Miller told her. ‘I want you and Timo and the kids out of here. I want you to get as far away as you can.’

‘And me?’ Kate asked him.

‘Stay with Melanie for now. Help her to get the kids ready.’ He looked at Timo. ‘You come to the barn with me. Bring the keys to your rifle cabinet.’

The barn was hunkered down at the bottom of the sloping meadow, overhung by the sodden limbs of the pines at the edge of the bordering wood. Miller had sheltered behind it many times when he was watching over Melanie from a distance. In truth, it was little more than a decrepit shed with a lean-to shelter attached to one flank. Chopped logs had been stacked beneath the shelter, packed tightly into every available crevice. The blade of an axe was resting in a split log, its handle sticking out.

The window at the front of the shed was dark and grimy, clotted with spider webs, cracked through the pane. Miller hurried after Timo to the door on the far side, the grass tangling round his ankles, his boots and socks soaked through with cold damp.

Timo was wearing a red outdoor coat over black waterproof trousers, and rain drummed off his jacket and the peaked hood he’d pulled over his head as he swung back the door.

Miller stepped inside to darkness and the smell of damp timber and mud and old cut grass. He crossed towards the window, the toe of his boot clanging off something metal and hollow-sounding, then stared back towards the chalet.

Beneath the heavy cloud cover, the light was prematurely dim, like a false dusk, and the chalet looked desolate and beaten down at the top of the rise. He could see the silhouette of Melanie or Kate standing next to a lighted upstairs window.

There was a dry click from behind and Miller turned to see Timo banging a torch against his palm, the bulb flickering to life, the beam weak and hazy. He aimed the torch at a metal cabinet on the wall and fitted a key in the lock.

Miller stepped closer as Timo opened the cabinet and cast the torch over an upright hunting rifle and the yellowing threads of some decaying cobwebs. The rifle stock was nicked and gouged, the barrel scratched and dinged. It had a bolt-action slide. Two wilted boxes of cartridges were stacked at the bottom of the cabinet.

‘Where’s your assault rifle?’ Miller asked him.

‘I sold it.’ Timo cast the torch beam over the space the rifle had recently occupied. ‘We needed money.’

He wouldn’t look at Miller as he said it, and Miller guessed it was because he was embarrassed for both of them. Melanie had refused to accept any money from Miller after he’d first set her up in Switzerland, preferring to finance herself. He knew her reasons and he supposed it was noble of her, though it had cost them the assault rifle he’d been relying on.

He felt a tacky dryness in his mouth, the thump of fear in his chest.

‘OK.’ He claimed the torch for himself and sprayed the beam around. ‘What else do we have in here?’

The object he’d kicked with his toe turned out to be an old oil drum with a chainsaw and a toolbox resting alongside it. A collection of garden tools were fitted to the wall: a rusted hoe; a shovel and a pickaxe; a fork and a scythe. Closer still, a tangle of rope was hanging down in front of Miller’s face. He aimed the beam upwards and saw that a plastic helmet and the rest of Timo’s climbing equipment had been slung over some rafters.

Timo was watching him in silence. Miller handed him the torch.

‘Take this. Aim it up here.’

‘I can stay. I can help you.’

‘You are helping me. You’re keeping my daughter safe. Your children, too. You know these mountains. In this weather, they’ll need you with them.’

‘You said there are two men.’

‘Kate will stay with me. She can handle it.’

The batteries in Timo’s torch were failing, the bulb growing weaker. He backed away and held the door open against the wind, grey light bleeding in.

‘What if she can’t handle it? What if these men kill you?’

‘They won’t.’

‘But if they do?’

‘Then you run, Timo. You find someplace new and you start again. Melanie can show you how.’ Miller dragged down a heavy coil of rope amid a haze of dust, thrusting it into Timo’s chest. ‘But remember, I’m not going to let that happen. And once you’re on your own with Melanie and the kids, you’re not going to let them out of your sight, no matter what you hear down here. Understand?’

Slowly, Timo nodded, the hood of his outdoor jacket swishing, water trickling into his eyes. ‘I have radios. When this is over, you’ll call me.’

‘Absolutely. When it’s over.’

Kate stood next to the window of Melanie and Timo’s bedroom, watching as Melanie dressed the children in their warmest clothes before pulling them in for a hug. She told them they were heading out on a secret adventure and that they might even camp for the night in the woods. Nico cooed and punched the air in excitement, but Mia shivered and looked over at Kate, unsettled by her presence, shaken by the storm outside.

‘Are you coming with us?’ she asked Melanie.

‘Yes, I’m coming.’

‘And Papa, too?’

‘Of course Papa too.’

Melanie hitched an eyebrow at Kate from over Mia’s head, as if daring her to say otherwise. But the scenario was fine by Kate. Yes, she was scared, and she hated the idea of waiting here for Renner and Wade to come, but she feared being asked to go with Melanie and shepherd the children to safety even more. She’d failed once already with Emily. She didn’t know the mountain terrain. It was better for everyone if Timo went and Kate was the one who stayed behind.

‘Now go on downstairs,’ Melanie told the kids. ‘Put on your coats and boots. Wait for me by the door.’

Nico raced off, thundering down the treads. Mia took more persuading. Another hug. A rub on the back and a kiss on the head. By the time they were downstairs, they were laughing and squabbling.

Listening to their playful bickering, Kate found herself pining after her own lost childhood with Richard. It was the smallest things they’d missed out on. Precious things. Like the chance to laugh and horse around together.

She cupped her hand to the window glass and squinted out at the barn, unable to spot Miller, then looked towards the SUV. The sheeting downpour was backed by a misty haze. She wondered if Renner and Wade were close.

Turning, she found Melanie standing on the end of the bed, reaching up for a rucksack that was tucked away on top of a rustic wardrobe.

It felt peculiar to be alone with her.
We’re ghosts
. That’s what Miller had said to her at the very beginning, but right now she felt as if she was looking at a ghost for real – a dead girl, brought back to life.

Kate was having a hard time adjusting to this strange new reality, but her overall emotion was one of sadness. She felt sad for Anna Brooks and her family. Sad for Miller and Melanie and the damage to their relationship. Sad for herself.

Miller had deceived her, and she understood why, but some of her trust in him, and yes, even some of her attraction to him, had been spurred by his loss and his pain, by the bond they shared of an absent family. Maybe that said something bad about her. It probably did. But it was honest and true, whereas a portion of Miller’s grief had been fabricated, and now Kate’s feelings for him felt diminished, even tarnished.

Her eyes drifted towards a framed photograph on one of the bedside tables, where a beautiful woman was smiling to camera, her face lifted towards the sun. Her hairstyle and clothes were dated and she was holding a young Melanie in her arms. They looked alike. Sarah, Kate guessed. She was heartbreakingly alive in the image. Achingly content.

Melanie stepped down from the bed with the rucksack in her hands and caught Kate staring at the picture. She measured her for a long moment.

‘Is it true what Dad told us about Russell? Did he really kill this Helen girl?’

‘Why would your father lie to you?’

Melanie scoffed and threw back the lid of the rucksack, checking its contents, pulling a compressed sleeping bag half out and pushing it back in again.

‘Because he’d say or do anything to protect me and make me leave here. He’d lie if he thought it was in my best interests. He’d do the same to you, too.’

‘I was going to be testifying at Russell’s trial. I wouldn’t have agreed to do that – I wouldn’t be here right now – if I didn’t believe that I’d witnessed something important. I was the last one to see Helen alive. I saw her with Russell, down by the boathouse on the Lane estate. They were arguing. Helen’s body was found washed up on the lake shore not far from there.’

‘The boathouse?’

‘Yes. Does it mean something to you?’

‘Not really. Russell used to talk about taking me there one day. He mentioned it a couple of times.’

‘Did he say why?’

‘Never.’

‘And you didn’t go?’

‘Anna told me not to. She said he was creepy. At the time, I thought she was just jealous. I thought she wanted Russell for herself. She could be like that. For a while, part of me even wondered if she invented the rape because he wasn’t interested in a relationship with her. As an attention thing. But if what you say about Russell is true, then I guess he really is a monster. I guess Anna was telling the truth all along.’

‘Unlike your father, according to you. Perhaps you’ve made a mistake with him, too?’

‘Seriously? You’re telling me he hasn’t lied to you about
anything
? I’m sorry, but you’re either painfully naive or you’re choosing to ignore it. He lied to you about me, didn’t he?’

‘He had his reasons.’

‘Reasons. Right.’

‘He’s been protecting you. Protecting me.’

Melanie looked at her again. Really looked at her this time.

‘Tell me something – did he explain to you how he funds his little programme?’

Kate faltered. She didn’t like where this was going. She didn’t like Melanie’s tone.

‘He mentioned a benefactor.’

‘But he didn’t tell you who that benefactor is, did he?’

This is day one for you, Kate. Trust me, you’ll learn more when it’s safe.

‘He will.’

‘Huh. Well, I hate to break it to you but he hasn’t been exactly truthful with you there. His mystery “benefactor” is the guy who tried to kill us both. Dad’s been blackmailing Connor Lane. He gets Hanson to send anonymous threats about knowing where Anna is. Hanson filters the payments so they can’t be traced. You remember dead Anna? The one who was killed instead of me?’

Kate felt herself sway. She fought the temptation to sit down, to look back over to the photograph of Sarah and Melanie together, caught in a moment in time before everything became corrupted so badly.

‘
Now
you begin to see it. That’s why Connor has been so motivated to burn through Dad’s network to get to Anna. It hasn’t just been about protecting Russell. It’s been about saving himself cash. A lot of cash.’

She turned to go, swinging the backpack on to her shoulder, snatching up the photograph of her mother and stuffing it into her bag.

‘You like him, don’t you? Did he tell you he feels the same way? I wonder if he was telling the truth about that.’ She paused and shook her head. ‘You two would be good together, I think. You both seem kind of alike. But you should forget about ever testifying against Russell. Dad’ll never allow you to do it. He’ll never let you go back.’