Sister, Missing (10 page)

He looked up as Jam, Shelby and I walked over. His face was as chiselled and model-like as I remembered, though he showed no sign of recognising me.

‘Hi.’ He looked from me to Shelby to Jam. ‘Did you want something?’

‘You came up to me on the beach yesterday,’ I said. ‘You asked if I knew a girl called Cassie.’

The boy’s eyes widened.
Now
he was remembering. I could see it.

‘Who’s Cassie?’ the pink-lipsticked girl opposite him said suspiciously. She looked at me. ‘Who are you?’

‘My name’s Lauren.’ I turned back to the boy. ‘All I want to know is who told you to speak to me.’

‘No-one told me to,’ the boy said.

‘Yes, they did,’ Shelby said.

‘I bet they paid you to do it too,’ Jam added shrewdly.

‘What is all this?’ whined Lipstick Girl. ‘What’s going on, Matt?’

Matt stood up, a lock of blond hair falling over his forehead.

‘Go away,’ he said viciously.

We glared at each other. He was a lot taller than me. Taller even than Jam. But I stood my ground.

‘The people who paid you have kidnapped our sister,’ I said, lowering my voice so the girl at the table couldn’t hear. ‘They’re capable of killing her. They
will
kill her if we don’t find her first.’

Matt’s tanned, handsome face paled.

‘If you don’t help us I’ll tell the police you were helping the kidnappers. That’ll make you an accessory to a serious crime.’

‘No.’ Matt gulped. ‘Don’t go to the police. I—’

‘. . . already have a record?’ Jam suggested.

Matt frowned with anxiety. ‘It was a woman,’ he said, his voice barely audible. ‘She didn’t give me her name, but she had an American accent.’

‘Holtwood,’ Shelby breathed.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Tell me everything that happened.’

The Trail

Matt led us away from his table. Lipstick Girl frowned, but didn’t attempt to follow. Matt stopped beside a glass cupboard containing shelves of cakes and desserts, then
spoke in a low voice.

‘The woman who came up to me was older . . . maybe in her forties, and American . . . I dunno,’ he said. ‘She was wearing a cap, pulled down low, and shades. Didn’t say
her name. Just paid me a hundred pounds to walk up to you on the beach and distract you . . . I don’t really know anyone called Cassie. I made that up.’

He brushed his blond curls off his forehead and glanced quickly round the restaurant as if to check no-one had overheard him.

‘How did this woman find you?’ I asked.

Matt shrugged. ‘I was hanging outside the Boondog,’ he said. ‘She came up to me, asked if I wanted to earn some cash.’

‘Didn’t you ask why?’ Jam said.

‘Weren’t you suspicious?’ Shelby added.

‘No. Look, it was all over in, like, ten minutes. She turned up here, took me over to the carousel place by the beach, gave me the money and told me when to walk over to you.’

I looked through the pizza restaurant window. Though I couldn’t hear the music from here, the carousel was clearly visible – a moving circle of prancing ponies. When Madison and I
had walked past it on the morning she’d gone missing, Sonia Holtwood must have been standing there watching us. I shivered.

‘Matty, what’s going on?’ Lipstick Girl came over, hands on hips.

Matt threw an appealing glance at me. ‘We’re done, aren’t we?’

‘In a sec.’ Jam quickly fished his phone out of his pocket. He held out a picture of Sonia Holtwood we’d found earlier. It was the best one we could get our hands on, but I
knew Holtwood was easily capable of changing her appearance. ‘Is this the woman you spoke to?’

Matt looked at the photo, then shook his head.

‘Maybe but, like I said, she was in a cap and shades, so it’s hard to tell.’

‘OK.’ Jam took his phone.

Matt went back to his table.

My heart sank. Matt had been our only lead to Madison and – despite what he’d told us – we’d reached a dead end.

‘Now what?’ Shelby turned to me, her eyes wide with fear. ‘Sonia Holtwood’s going to call you any moment and we’re no closer than we were before to finding
Madison.’

I bit my lip.

‘Man, she’s going to expect you to have something to add to the ransom,’ Jam said. ‘What are you going to tell her?’

‘I don’t know.’ Feeling sick, I led the others outside and onto the promenade. It wasn’t quite as busy as yesterday, the Easter Monday bank holiday, but the beach was
still full of families enjoying the heat wave.

I tried to focus on the options. It was hard to think straight. The image of Madison in the back of that van kept forcing itself into my mind’s eye. ‘Holtwood thinks we’re
still in London,’ I said. ‘Maybe I can use that.’

‘How?’ Shelby asked.

My phone rang.

I glanced at Jam. He gave me a swift, encouraging nod. I hurried into a gap between two stalls and cupped my hand over my mobile as I brought it to my mouth. I didn’t want Holtwood to hear
the sounds of the seaside around me.

‘Hello?’ I said.

‘Lauren.’ The same, disguised, voice as before.

‘You might as well skip the filter,’ I said. ‘I know you’re Sonia Holtwood.’

‘Have you found whatever Sam hid?’

The contents of the two letters flashed into my mind. Sam wasn’t my biological father. Or my sisters’.
Stop it, Lauren
. I couldn’t let myself get distracted.

I also couldn’t admit the truth.

‘We need more time to find whatever it is,’ I lied.

A pause. The line crackled in the silence.

‘More time isn’t acceptable,’ Holtwood said. ‘I told you what would happen to Madison if you didn’t come through.’

My stomach gave a sick lurch. I
had
to buy us more time. It was the only way to stop Holtwood carrying out her threat.

‘How do I know you haven’t killed Madison already?’ I said.

The crackle on the line stopped. For a second I could hear background sounds quite clearly: a few notes of music – strangely familiar – then some distant, excited shrieks . . . and
then Madison’s voice in my ear.

‘Lauren, are you there?’

‘Yes, sweetheart I’m—’

‘Enough.’ The filter re-engaged and Holtwood’s snarling voice came back on the line. ‘You’re out of time,’ she snapped.

‘Wait, we’ve almost finished searching the flat,’ I insisted, trying to keep my voice strong. ‘We just need a bit more time.’

Another pause. ‘I will give you another twenty minutes,’ Holtwood said. ‘But we’re finishing this tonight, one way or another.’

The line went dead.

‘What happened?’ Jam said.

My voice sounded like someone else’s – dull and flat – as I explained. ‘We’ve got twenty minutes,’ I finished.

‘What about Madison? Was she there?’ Shelby asked.

I nodded. ‘And there was this music . . .’ I stopped. I was certain I’d heard those notes somewhere before – but
where
?

Shelby’s eyes widened. ‘So . . . if we don’t think of something in the next twenty minutes then Holtwood will kill Madison?’

I nodded again. What on earth were we going to do?

‘Maybe Mom will know about something else valuable?’ Shelby suggested excitedly.

‘I doubt it,’ I said, heavily. ‘I mean, between us we know what she owns and there’s hardly anything worth more than a few hundred dollars.’

‘What about her jewellery?’ Shelby said.

‘OK, but it’s not worth millions. Holtwood’s looking for “big money” stuff. That’s what she said.’

‘We can still try,’ Shelby said.

‘She’s right, Lauren,’ Jam said.

‘OK.’ I couldn’t see how turning to Annie at this point would help at all – but I had no alternative suggestion.

We raced along the promenade towards the carousel. The turning for the holiday home was just past it. This was the same route I’d taken yesterday morning, after I’d lost Madison. I
felt more and more sick with every step. We’d already passed the spot on the beach where we’d laid our towels. Now we passed the ice cream stall where Madison had bought our lollies,
then the ladies’ toilet where I had looked for her.

Shelby stopped as we reached the main square at the heart of the promenade. ‘If we talk to Mom we’re going to have to explain that we went to the London apartment,’ she said
anxiously. ‘Mom will totally freak when she knows we kept her out of the loop.’

‘You’re not responsible for your mum,’ Jam said with a wry smile. ‘If she flips out it’s not your fault.’

Shelby looked close to tears and it struck me that having Annie for your mother full time must be hard work. My own mum – my adoptive mum who I grew up with – was always so organised
and sensible. Too much so, sometimes. But better that than a mother who was all over the place all the time.

‘What really gets me is how Holtwood managed to take Madison without anyone noticing,’ Jam said, looking round. ‘I mean, the place was more crowded when you were here yesterday
and she had to get her all the way up the road to a car or a van. You’d think Madison would have yelled out or screamed or something.’

I stared at the carousel. It was spinning slowly round, still playing ‘The Teddy Bear’s Picnic’. There was something I wasn’t thinking of . . . some small fact, niggling
away, just out of reach.

‘Maybe Madison did scream and everyone ignored her,’ Shelby said darkly.

‘Or maybe there was lots of noise,’ I said.

The carousel beside us was certainly noisy. Only two children were riding round right now, but both were whooping with delight. ‘The Teddy Bear’s Picnic’ was still blaring
out.

‘. . . to the woods today,

you’re in for a big surprise.’

I gasped. Those two notes – on ‘surprise’ – sounded suddenly familiar.

Another whoop from one of the kids on the carousel.

It all fell into place.

‘They’re here right now,’ I said. ‘Holtwood and Madison.’

Musical Direction

‘What?’ Jam stopped walking. ‘How can Holtwood and Madison be here? What are you talking about?’

My pulse raced. ‘When Holtwood turned off the filter so I could hear Madison speak, I also got a blast of background noise. I heard that carousel music. Just a couple of notes, but
I’m sure it was that same tune.’

‘You mean they’re somewhere near the carousel?
Here?
’ Jam looked round.

‘But what if Holtwood sees us?’ Shelby shrieked. ‘She’ll know you lied to her. She’ll know we’re here. Not in London.’

‘Behind here.’ Jam grabbed our wrists and dragged us behind the carousel booth.

My heart thumped against my ribs. Had I just blown it
again
?

‘Oh
no
,’ Shelby said. ‘She’s watching us now.’

‘No.’ Jam took a step back from the booth. He shook his head. ‘No, that doesn’t make sense. Holtwood has no idea we’re here. There are lots of people around. Even
if she was out in plain view she might not see us.’

‘And she
isn’t
in plain view,’ I said. ‘She can’t be, she’s got Madison with her, remember? She’ll be hiding somewhere.’

Shelby nodded.

I peered around the carousel booth, trying to take stock. We were in the central square, the beach behind us. To our left was the carousel and the path leading back to the Boondog Shack, the ice
cream stalls and the restaurant where we’d met Matt.

To our right was a small row of shops. They stood with their backs to the promenade rail. People were bustling in and out of all of them.

Opposite us was a larger store selling all sorts of beach goods, from sunglasses to inflatable beach toys. It was even busier than the shops on our right. A row of beach huts led away from
it.

‘How far away from the carousel would you have to be, so that the music still sounded over the phone?’ I asked.

‘You’d have to be close,’ Jam said.

‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘We couldn’t hear it outside the restaurant, earlier.’

Shelby moved nearer, peering round the carousel booth beside me. ‘Maybe she was standing outside one of the shops,’ she suggested.

‘But Madison was with her,’ I said. ‘They must have been
inside
.’

Shelby gazed around. ‘But all the shops are really busy.’

‘We have to check out the whole area,’ I said. ‘Shelby, you look around the square. Jam, why don’t you see if there’s any sign of Holtwood or Madison in the shops
on the right. I’ll look opposite.’

We split up. My palms were sweating as I ran over to the big shop opposite the carousel. One look inside confirmed that there was no way Holtwood could have made her call from its crowded
aisles. There were no other shops on this side of the square. No proper buildings at all . . . just the terrace of brightly coloured beach huts stretching along the promenade.

I rubbed my sweaty palms down the front of my jeans and set off along the row. Identical in size and shape – they were all about three or four metres square – the beach huts varied
only in the colours chosen to decorate the fronts. Some were painted in bright, strong blues and reds, others in soft pastels. All of them looked well cared for. A few were occupied, with elderly
couples sitting out in plastic chairs on the tiny porches.

I sped along. Towards the end of the row of huts, the noise of the carousel music began to fade. Another few metres and it wouldn’t be audible at all, which meant there was no way
I’d have heard it through Holtwood’s phone if she’d been standing here.

The last hut seemed different from the rest. A strip of green paint was peeling off the wooden door. I looked more closely. The wooden boards along the front of the hut – some of which
were nailed over the windows – were warped and worn. It looked deserted and uncared for, completely unlike the others in the row. The carousel music was quieter from here, but still clearly
audible.

I was about to turn away when I saw it. A tiny doll’s shoe. It lay on its side, half covered with dust and sand. I picked it up and my heart lurched into my mouth. This was surely
Tammy’s shoe – from the pocket doll Madison had been playing with when she was taken.

Hands shaking, I tried the hut door. It was locked. The brass lock glinted in the sun. Unlike the rest of the hut, it looked smart and expensive. I took out my phone. Seconds later Shelby and
Jam appeared, running towards me.