Tell Tale (44 page)

‘It was always kept in her room,’ I say, pulling Adam close for a look. ‘I don’t understand.’ I rattle the French doors. Locked. ‘The key. It’s hidden under that pot for when Josie forgot to take hers to school.’ I run over to a line of clay planters and tip the middle one sideways. The key is there and I swipe it up. With shaking hands, I let us inside.

Immediately, we both stop breathing. The smell is overpowering. ‘Let me go first,’ Adam says. I know what he’s thinking. I can’t bear it.

He speeds ahead, cautiously scouting through each room, while I wait in the kitchen terrified of what he might find. The bin is overflowing and there are several other bags of rubbish spilling around the room. Old plates and pans are stacked in the sink, and mugs and old food containers litter every surface. This is not the home I left behind. I imagine Burnett virtually living here, disrespecting everything about my life – including my daughter.

‘No one here. Dead or alive, even though it smells like a mortuary.’ I flinch at the image Adam conjures, that a body could have been in the house for days.

We head for the dining room to take a look at Josie’s PC, the only link I’ve had with her for the last few months.
Familiar stickers are peeling off the side of the monitor. The keyboard leans against the tower, the screen crooked and smeared. Wires are bandaged around the stack of dusty equipment.

‘Why would it be dumped here? It doesn’t make sense.’ I run a finger over it, as if it might somehow connect me with my daughter; send her a warning message wherever she is. I want to fall to the floor in a heap, but there’s no time for regrets.

‘Can you connect it up? I need to log in to Afterlife. She might have replied to my message.’ I wring my hands together; tear my fingers down my cheeks.

Adam’s head rolls in an arc of understanding as he realises that it was my own daughter I was keeping tabs on back at Roecliffe. He doesn’t pound me with questions. I help him plug in the wires to the computer box and stretch the power cable to the mains plug. All the while we are straining our ears for anyone at the door.

The phone rings.

I clap a hand to my mouth as my own voice cheerily asks the caller to leave a message. There’s a click followed by the dial tone as they hang up.

I boot up the computer, impatient at how long it takes to get online. Finally, I am logging in to Afterlife, holding my breath for a reply.

‘Look,’ I whisper. ‘There’s a message from her.’ All the times I nagged at her about going on the wretched game before school, and now I’m so glad she bothered to log in. I pull up the message and read, Adam leaning over
me. His hand crawls on to my shoulder as the truth hits us.

If you want your daughter back, come and get her. She’ll soon be following in her mother’s footsteps.

‘Oh my God, no. He’s got her!’ I run to the corner of the room and throw up.

I wipe my mouth. Adam supports me as I read the message again, making sure I didn’t get it wrong.

‘It’s time to call the police, Frankie,’ he tells me. ‘If your daughter really is in danger, then this is more than we can handle.’

‘But you don’t understand,’ I cry, reacting the way I’ve been trained. ‘If the police know who I am—’

‘For God’s sake, Frankie, stop.’ Adam is stern. ‘I would rather have your permission, but if I don’t then I’m making the call anyway. A child’s safety is more important than your whereabouts being discovered. He knows you’re alive anyway.’

He’s right. The thought that I am no longer dead makes me wish I was. ‘How did he find out?’ I stare at Adam, remembering the rules.
Trust no one, and don’t go back.
I have broken both of them.

‘I don’t know the answer to that, but if it’s true then clearly he . . . or they . . . are using Josie to flush you out.’

I slump into a chair. My legs are weak. My stomach twists and cramps. ‘Adam,’ I say, staring up at him. There’s a weird, unreal light, making me think none of this is happening. ‘I can’t do this any more.’ There’s a pain across my forehead as it drops on to the table. I don’t care. Hot
tears rain on to my legs as I sob it all out. I know we have to act, but I have no idea how.

When I look up, Adam is searching for reception on his mobile phone. ‘Wait. If you’re calling the police, then it should be Jane Shelley. She’ll help me. She thinks I’m a victim of domestic abuse.’ I pause at the irony. ‘It’ll get the police involved, but won’t alert any other kind of suspicion.’

I step over the mess in the living room and go into the hallway. My handbag is still hanging on the hook, but my old mobile phone is missing. It had Shelley’s number on it. ‘Bastards,’ I yell, thumping my fist on the wall. ‘I don’t know her number. Will you dial the headquarters and ask for her by name? But only her. Leave a message if you have to.’ Adam nods and makes the call for me.

I stare at the monitor again, re-reading the message. It was sent at six twenty-three this morning, not long after my message. I doubt that Josie has used this computer for a while, so that means he sent the message on another PC. It doesn’t help me figure out where they are.

‘If they want me,’ I say to Adam, ‘then they can have me.’ I set my status to ‘online’ instead of pretending to be offline. Come and get me, I think, praying that he is watching.

‘Frankie, what are you doing? I left an urgent message for Shelley. They said she would call me as soon as her shift started. But I think I should make an emergency call as well, to be safe.’

‘No!’ I say. ‘Just wait. This will work.’

‘You think he’s going to tell you where Josie is?’

I nod, biting my lip.

‘Then what?’

‘Then,’ I say quite seriously, ‘we’re going to go and get her.’

The wait is interminable. At nine forty-five, the house telephone rings again. Adam and I stare at each other as my recorded voice asks the caller to leave a message. ‘Hello, Mr Kennedy. This is the school secretary here. Just calling to find out where Josephine is again today. The head would like to speak to you urgently, if you could please call school when you get this. Thank you. Bye.’

‘Where
is
her father?’ Adam asks, but suddenly the computer jumps to life and makes a noise. We lean in, our eyes scanning the screen to see what’s going on.

‘Look,
dramaqueen-jojo
is online. That’s her.’ My hand is poised, shaking, on the mouse.

‘Or not,’ Adam says.

Almost immediately a conversation window appears.

-hello

‘Be normal,’ Adam says. ‘We need to find out where she is.’

-hi,
I type.
How r u?

-can’t talk long

-wot u doing?
I mustn’t rush this, but time is running out.

-Josie?
I type when there’s silence.
Where r u?

-i dunno,
she says.
somewh sfdn,m

‘What’s happened? Look. She’s typed rubbish.’

‘Perhaps her hand slipped,’ Adam suggests.

Then my lungs swell as the air rushes in and my eyes widen. My body responds faster than my brain. I grip Adam’s arm.

‘Oh God, no,’ I cry.

-If you want her alive, do as I say.

I’m nodding, begging him not to hurt my family. I’ll do anything. My palms are sweating, my skin tingles cold. Adam slides the keyboard away from me and gently removes the mouse from under my fingers.

-Who is this?
Adam types.

-Guess

‘Adam, don’t play games. You have no idea how serious—’

He snaps a look at me, halting me immediately.

-No

It’s clear he doesn’t know what he’s doing either. ‘Frankie, pass my phone. I’m calling the bloody police whether you like it or not. Call your husband too.’

-No police or she dies.

It’s as if he’s read our minds. ‘Adam, help her, please.’
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God,
I cry over and over.

-What do you want me to do?

-Die. This time for real.

He thinks it’s me typing. We stare at each other. I nod for him to continue.

-Tell me how. Just don’t hurt her.
All I can see in my head
is an image of Josie locked up in a dark room, bound, gagged, terrified.

Adam and I jump as a phone rings – not the house phone, but another one.

-answer it

‘Oh shit, he’s watching us. He must be.’ We leap up and follow the sound. It’s coming from the kitchen. Under a pile of empty takeaway cartons, Adam finds a red mobile phone. The screen flashes ‘unknown caller’. He hands it to me.

‘Hello?’ My voice doesn’t sound like my own.

At first, all I can hear is rustling and footsteps. Then I hear a cry – a female cry – and a muffled order shouted.

‘It’s Josie. Help me, please! Who’s there? Will you help me . . .?’ Then sobbing.

‘Josie? Josie? Can you hear me?’ I look at the screen. The call has ended. ‘Shit,’ I say, trying to find the list of received calls. ‘It was her, Adam. She was hysterical. I have to get to her.’ Adam takes the phone and presses several buttons.

‘Nothing,’ he says. ‘No number.’ We rush back to the computer.

-She’s alive. For now,
is waiting onscreen.

‘We can’t just sit here typing and taking calls, Adam. We have to get to her.’ I’m frantic, unable to comprehend how this has happened. Everything I ever believed has been turned on its head.

‘Can you think where she’d be? Where does this creep live?’

‘I have no idea.’ I’m sweating. My fingers tear through my hair.

-Do it properly this time,
he types.
Or she falls instead. Fifteen minutes.

Adam turns to me. His eyes are slits. ‘Where, Frankie? What does he mean?’ His voice is urgent now as my mind rattles through the possibilities.

‘The bridge,’ I whisper, taking hold of the computer mouse. ‘He wants me to jump again.’

‘Or Josie falls instead,’ Adam says.

I click in the box and type,
-OK.

Adam reverses out of the drive. I can’t feel my body. I am holding both phones, waiting for either one of them to ring as we speed towards Leigh Woods. ‘The A369,’ I whisper. ‘Follow the signs.’ I can hardly talk. I’m shaking. ‘This was never meant to happen.’ Adam doesn’t reply. I know he’s thinking,
What did you expect?

There are roadworks in Abbots Leigh so Adam takes a guess and turns down a side street. Following his nose, we find the main road again just past the jam.

‘Please, dear God, don’t let our luck run out,’ I pray.

‘It’s been ten minutes already.’ He’s pushing the ancient car to its limits. ‘How much further?’

‘Not far,’ I say. We pass the golf course to our right. ‘Turn left!’ I shriek as we nearly miss Bridge Road. Adam jams on the brakes and lurches the car round. Someone hoots. ‘Keep going. Keep going.’ The bridge looms between the trees. I glance at Adam’s watch. We are still just within fifteen minutes. We couldn’t have done it any faster. I can’t stand what we might find.

I don’t think about dying.

‘I’m going to drive on to the bridge,’ he says. ‘It’ll take too long to park. If they’re there, we should spot them.’ I nod, watching, waiting, as we approach the massive structure.

The tyres rumble as we cross the expansion joints.

‘Where are they? Can you see them?’ I’m straining forward, unfastening my seat belt.

Adam looks concerned. ‘I don’t know what they look like.’

He drives slowly along the bridge. There are several people walking along, hooded up against the cold wind.

‘There!’ I scream. ‘That’s them.’ Two figures are balanced precariously the wrong side of the bridge railings, while another stands squat on the road. ‘Oh shit, it’s Josie up there.’ I let out a string of sobs. ‘And that’s her father beside her.’

Adam stops the car in the middle of the carriageway, about fifty feet from them.

‘Slow down,’ he says as I start to run off. ‘Let’s do this together.’

Cars behind us begin hooting. At this, the other man swings round and stares directly at us.

‘Who’s that?’

‘Karl Burnett,’ I whisper, digging my fingers into Adam’s arm as we walk forward cautiously. ‘He’s dangerous.’ I stare up at Josie teetering on the edge of the bridge. Her face is pale and her eyes are sunken into dark sockets. Her hands are bound behind her back and a grimy rag is gagging her
mouth. The only thing stopping her plummeting to her death is her father’s hand on her back.

‘He’s got them both. This is bad, Frankie.’ Adam pulls the phone from my fingers. ‘I’m going to call for help.’

Josie suddenly wails loudly through the gag – a muffled shriek of disbelief as she sees me. Her face turns ashen and her legs buckle from shock. Mick grabs her arm as she slips.

‘It’s OK, Josie,’ I yell up to her. ‘I’m here. Everything will be OK.’ I stretch out my arms towards her, desperate to run to her.

‘The bloody resurrection itself,’ Burnett growls, approaching me. A knife blade flicks from nowhere. I shrink back. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t find out about your pathetic con?’ Mick tenses behind him, his eyes flashing between us.

‘I . . . I . . .’ I can’t speak.

Adam is on the brink of action, sizing up what’s going on. He doesn’t realise what he’s up against. ‘Get the girl back over,’ he yells out to Mick, seeing the opportunity while Burnett is distracted. Bravely, Adam starts off to help them. Burnett moves closer to me, angling the blade at my throat. Everything is in slow motion.

‘Adam, no! You don’t understand!’

‘Stay the fuck where you are or she goes over,’ Mick says. Every muscle on his face is rigid. He yanks Josie’s head back by the hair, shoving his face in hers. He spits something at her.

I scream, but nothing comes out.

The breath floods into me from a reserve I didn’t know I had.

‘No!
You bastard,’ I scream over and over until my voice packs in. Burnett briefly turns away and I take my chance, running towards Mick.

‘Fucking get back,’ he spews across the bridge.

Gone are the deep and rich tones I fell in love with. Mick’s new voice nearly kills me as I take it all in, struggling to accept who and what he is. As if I’m staring through someone else’s eyes, I watch the hands that used to protect his daughter now roughly manhandling her. She kicks and bites, her head thrashing, her eyes wild. A pitiful wail comes from behind the gag. Futilely, she stamps on her father’s foot.