No Longer Safe (18 page)

The next half an hour trawled on as I ached to find
out more about the boy. Driving back seemed to take an inordinately long time.
Finally, the three of us settled with hot drinks, and Malcolm gave us the full
story.

‘I’m not sure how much closer it gets the police,’ he said,
‘but they think Brody was handed over to someone near Craigleven on Monday
evening around nine-fifteen. The driver took off, but the witness didn’t register
the make or colour of the car – it was too dark. The witness was a man in his
sixties, apparently he heard the baby crying and a car door shutting, but he
didn’t think anything of it until he came back from Glasgow last night and
heard the news.’

‘Did they find any evidence, though?’ asked Nina.

‘Yes, the police found a small yellow bootie nearby. Mrs
Holland identified it as Brody’s. And there were tyre tracks they’ll want to
examine.’

‘Isn’t Craigleven near where we got lost?’ I said. ‘Near the
caravan?’

Nina was about to answer when Malcolm spoke again. ‘The
sergeant mentioned a caravan. They said Brody had definitely been there and
they’re still running forensic tests. They’ve got various items of adult
clothing and found a selection of photographs – all different babies. There was
also a hand-drawn map of the local area marking out the cottage where Brody was
taken. Oh, and scribbled at the side was “9.15pm”, so that links in with the
witness.’

‘The handover time?’ I asked.

‘Looks like it. Whoever had him wasn’t exactly smart,’
Malcolm added, tutting. ‘Leaving obvious evidence around like that…’

Malcolm didn’t know Charlie had never made it back to the
caravan; he’d probably planned a major clear up before he took off for Europe.

‘So they still don’t know if Brody is alive or not?’ said
Nina, her fingers fiddling around her mouth.

‘No,’ he said, softly. He put an arm round her. ‘But it
sounds like it was planned and money probably changed hands and, if that’s the case,
Brody had a value and it wouldn’t make sense to harm him.’

‘That’s what I need to know,’ she whispered. ‘It’s my fault
they didn’t start looking for him sooner.’

Malcolm pulled her to him. ‘It’s
not
your fault. You weren’t to know.’

‘The police told you a lot,’ I said, surprised at how
detailed his information was.

He chuckled. ‘I managed to catch Tom – Sergeant Harris – at
the pub. He was knackered – they’re all doing shifts around the clock and he
let his guard down probably more than he should have done.’

It sounded like a party was in full swing when Nina
dropped me back at the cottage. It was mid-afternoon, but a blast of alcohol
fumes hit me as soon as I got through the door.

‘Here she is – the lonely wanderer,’ said Mark as I put my
head around the sitting room door.

‘Come-on-in,’ said Jodie, slurring her words so they came
out as one. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor waving a bottle of wine.

‘It’s a bit early,’ I said. ‘I’ll join you later.’

Mark muttered something I didn’t hear and Jodie sniggered.

‘Join us for a cup of tea, then,’ said Karen. She was
sitting apart from them with a mug at her side.

‘It’s okay,’ I said, backing out. ‘I’ll be upstairs.’

‘I’ll bring one up in a bit,’ she insisted. I shut the door
without a sound and went to my room.

I’d been trying to read my novel and had fallen asleep on
the bed, when I heard the door open. There was a thud as someone tripped over
the ruckled carpet just inside the door. I woke and turned over. Karen took
hold of the iron bedstead to steady herself.

‘Only me,’ she said, trying to stop the tea from spilling.
‘See how easy it is to slip on these floors? No wonder Char—’

‘Don’t,’ I said. ‘Please don’t.’ I sat upright taking the
mug.

‘Can I sit?’ she said and perched on the edge of the counterpane
without waiting for a reply. ‘Remember when I used to come to your room at
Uni?’

‘I think it was me who used to come to you,’ I said dryly.

She didn’t acknowledge her mistake. ‘We talked about the
boys you fancied and worked out little schemes and plans in order to get them
to notice you.’

I remembered. ‘It paid off in the end,’ I said. ‘Sort of.’ I
looked at her, wishing we could wipe out the last few days altogether. ‘You
helped me a lot.’

Her eyelids drooped and her head drifted to one side as if
it was too heavy for her to keep upright. There was no sparkle in her eyes, no
soft sheen to her skin. Without the smile, she looked like someone who’d
battled with life and lost – it was her smile, I realised, that kept her face
alive.

I’d changed in the time we’d been apart, but so had she.
There were rough edges to her now that I’d never seen before and a brutal
calculation in her eyes that unnerved me. I wanted to put it down to the
business over Charlie – but it was more than that. I felt like I barely knew
her at all.

‘There’s some good news,’ I said brightly. ‘I heard that
Charlie had passed the boy on to someone…like you said.’

‘I told you.’

‘It means we weren’t to blame…you know…with Charlie out of the
picture. The boy had already been taken somewhere else by then.’

‘Have they found the boy?’

I looked down at the bedspread, tugged at one of the
candlewick tufts. ‘No.’

I waited for her to say something reassuring or supportive,
but she simply stared blankly ahead. I changed the subject.

‘Do you keep in touch with Mel’s father?’

‘Not really. It’s complicated.’

‘Do you really miss that life – in Los Angeles?’

‘Yes and no,’ she said, noncommittally.

I took a breath. ‘Does Mark owe you money? Is that why he’s
here? Does that explain the ten-thousand pounds I found?’

She shot upright as if someone had thrown cold water in her
face. ‘Don’t be silly.’ She lurched towards me. I thought she was going to slap
me. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t understand any of it,
Alice – so just leave it.’

I straightened up, pressing my hands flat down on the
bedspread. ‘Who killed Charlie, Karen? Who killed him?’

Her stare set my eyes on fire. She swung round and kicked
the door shut with her foot, turned back to me and snatched my arms, pulling me
up from the bed to face her.

Her words were clear and precise. ‘You know who killed him.’
Then she shook me so violently that my teeth rattled. ‘Don’t you start going
all flaky on me, okay?’ I’d rarely seen her this angry. ‘STOP asking questions
and nosing around. You’ll make people suspicious and you’ll say something
stupid.’

Her thumbs were making divots in my arms. ‘You’re hurting
me!’ I said, trying to pull away. She was way too strong for me. I’d never faced
her in this way before. When had she become so aggressive? She had muscles of
steel and could have overpowered me in an instant if she’d wanted to.

She dropped my arms and left the room without saying another
word.

Stuart picked me up at 8pm and I felt I could
finally breathe again. ‘You’re quiet,’ he said as we drove into the lane at the
end of the track.

‘Been a long day,’ I said.

It had, but there was so little about it I could tell him. I
couldn’t mention Karen’s behaviour – he’d want to know why she was so upset. I
found the two things that were on reasonably safe ground: the latest news from
Malcolm and finding the caravan.

‘And the police think Brody had been held there?’ he asked.

‘Yes. Not for long. It was abandoned and it didn’t look like
anyone was going back.’

‘Did you take a look around?’

‘Yes – the door was open.’

‘And? What did you find?’ There was an urgency in his tone
that didn’t fit with simple curiosity.

‘Nothing. It was a mess. Tatty, dirty – like someone had
made use of it for a few days and then taken off.’ His shoulders climbed an
inch. Was he testing me? ‘Stuart, do you know something?’

He looked startled and took his eyes off the road for a
little too long. ‘About the boy? No…’

I pointed urgently at the road ahead, he swerved to correct
our position and slowed down.

‘We’ve…stepped right into the middle of something, here,’ he
muttered.

An odd thing to say, I thought, but I didn’t answer him; I
wanted to get to the pub in once piece.

It was a rowdy Saturday night and I was glad. I wanted to
lose myself in the boisterous trivialities of ordinary people living ordinary
lives. We found a table set apart in an archway and I bought the first round.

‘What did you mean… “stepped right into the middle of
something?”’ I asked.

He took a long sip of Guinness. ‘Did you manage to get the
photos?’

I put them on the table between us.

‘Well done.’ He took them out one by one and scrutinised
them. I dotted my finger in the froth inside my glass, waiting for him to say
something. ‘These could have been taken anywhere – there’s nothing about LA
stamped on them.’ He looked closer. ‘In fact, this one wasn’t taken in America
at all.’

I leaned forward. ‘Why? How can you tell?’

It was the one with Karen in a kitchen, wearing shorts, with
a child holding her hand. ‘Look at the packets on the shelves.’

‘What am I looking for?’

‘See the box that says “cornflour” on the side? In the US,
they don’t call it cornflour, they call it corn
starch
.’

I considered it. ‘Maybe she…brought it with her from the
UK.’ He gave me a cynical look.

‘And there’s this,’ he continued. See here, the blue box of
clingfilm on the counter – they call it
plastic
wrap
over there.’

‘Really?’ He looked thoughtful, flapping the photo against
his palm. ‘You know a lot about it,’ I said disconcerted.

He looked at the others. ‘She’s lying,’ he said, a misty
look in his eyes. ‘These pictures weren’t taken in America.’

I looked down at my drink, about to take a sip, then spoke
instead. ‘But why would she lie? Being an au pair over there isn’t exactly
impressive – it’s not exactly enviable.’

‘But it’s credible,’ he said. ‘Also, a bit fanciful and
glamorous from what you’ve described. A famous actor who fathered her child,
but she won’t tell you who it is? Hard to check up on.’

‘Okay,’ I conceded. ‘Maybe it’s because she’s spent the last
six years doing some run-of-the-mill office job. Maybe she’s embarrassed and
made up the story about being in Hollywood.’

He put the photos back in the envelope. ‘She’s gone to great
lengths to hide the truth, don’t you think? She must have brought the photos
with her specially, maybe even staged them, because she knew you’d ask. None of
you questioned them, did you?’

‘That’s true.’ I nipped my lips together.

Stuart was far away, following his own train of thought and
I lost him for a while. He finished his drink and plonked the empty glass down
on the beer mat. ‘Mmm – it’s all falling into place.’

‘Falling into place? What do you mean?’

His eyes flew to mine, as if he hadn’t meant to say those
last words out loud. ‘It’s complicated,’ he said.

I always hated it when people said that. It means they
didn’t trust you. I looked at my watch, but he was already on his feet ready to
order another drink.

I must have been quiet for a while after he came back,
because he asked me if I was feeling unwell.

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Just thinking that our holiday is half
over.’

Perhaps he was overly shy or a proper gentleman – but time
was running out between us. Was he married or gay, or just not interested in
that way? I didn’t know – but he was shutting me out and I was starting to give
up on him. I wondered again about his questions about Karen.

‘Why the interest in Karen’s past, Stuart? What are you
looking for?’

He paused and ran his finger around the rim of his glass. ‘I
don’t like to see people getting messed about,’ he said slowly.

‘Me – you mean?’

‘Anybody.’

I didn’t understand exactly what he meant, but I could see from
the set look on his face that I wasn’t going to get any further.

‘Are you looking forward to getting back to the University –
to Edinburgh?’ I asked.

He stretched before he answered. ‘Not to the unruly
students, but I’ve missed home comforts – my books, my bread-maker and the
cat,’ he said. He pointed towards the nearest window. ‘But how could you not
love this landscape – it’s so rich and slow. Oh, I meant to ask, have you taken
many photos?’

Taking pictures had been the last thing on my mind. ‘Not as
many as I should have,’ I said. ‘By the way, how good are your binoculars?
Could I have a look at them?’

I’d been considering going down the loch to check the view
of the water from different vantage points. I wanted to know how likely it was
that Karen and I could have been spotted in the boat.

‘Binoculars?’

‘For birdwatching. Isn’t that why you are here – to look for
birds?’

‘Oh – right. Yes, of course.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I
don’t have them in the Land Rover. I’ll have to show you another time.’

The catch in his voice gave him away. He blinked a couple of
times and looked into his glass. I shivered, but felt a burning heat inside my
forehead.

I bit the bullet. ‘What’s this all about, Stuart?’

He tried to look innocent.

I carried on. ‘Something really weird is going on and it’s
making me very uneasy.’

He scratched his ear. ‘Okay. Listen, I haven’t told you the
whole picture.’

I laughed. ‘I think I can see that! Spill.’

‘I’m going through a divorce. Not my idea. It’s nearly over
now.’

I stared down at my boots. ‘Oh…I’m sorry.’ It explained a
lot; his reticence, his tendency to take one step towards me, then two more
away from me.