The Lake House, page 10
She almost broke into a run she was so excited to see Will, have her shower and put her pyjamas on. As she walked through the door he greeted her wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a black T-shirt. She threw her arms around him, hugging him tight.
‘Boy, I’ve missed you today. I kept thinking of you having to deal with that poor woman’s head and I just wanted to be with you.’
He lifted his hand to her forehead to check if she had a temperature.
‘I missed you too. Are you feeling okay?’
‘Of course I am. I’m just a bit tired and hungry.’
‘Good. Tea’s almost done.’
‘Have I got time for a quick shower?’
He nodded his head then leant over and kissed her.
‘A quick one – I took a bit of effort making this. But your Coco Pops are on standby if you don’t like it.’
She giggled and turned to go upstairs to the bathroom where she could strip off and wash away the aches and pains of the day under the hot water.
When she came downstairs her stomach grumbled as she inhaled the smell of roast beef and all the trimmings. In the kitchen Will was just plating up the vegetables and she walked behind him and kissed the back of his neck.
‘You do know that you spoil me, don’t you?’
‘I do, but it makes me happy to spoil you. So that makes it okay, don’t you think?’
‘As long as you’re happy then so am I, and I’m starving. Good choice, Mr Ashworth.’
He laughed and turned around to kiss her.
‘When are you not starving?’
If anyone else had said that she would have been insulted but not Will. He never judged her or commented on how much she ate. She did have a healthy appetite but she knew that he was an angel because he never deep-fried anything and always cooked as healthily as he could to help her. Although he’d never seen her when she was really overweight and miserable, he knew that she was very conscious about what she ate, which practically made him a saint in her eyes. Mike, her abusive ex-husband, would demand fried foods and fatty takeaways, and then he would enjoy calling her names and making her cry.
How she had changed in three years. She was a completely different person from back then and she wondered what hold he’d had over her to make her let him treat her the way he did. Will put the plate of roast dinner down in front of her and she sighed.
‘Pass me the mint sauce?’
‘It’s beef, not lamb.’
‘I know but I like mint sauce on any roast. Gives it a kick.’
He took the glass jar from the cupboard and passed it to her. ‘Glass of wine?’
‘Maybe later, thanks. I think I’ll fall asleep halfway through my tea if I do. I’m so tired. I must have been dreaming last night but I can’t remember what about. Was I tossing and turning much?’
‘Only the usual. Your night-time exercise keeps me warm. You get so hot I can feel the heat radiating off you in waves. It saves us a fortune not having to put the central heating on.’
They both began to eat, Annie trying her best not to think about Martha Beckett and Will trying to block out the image of Beth O’Connor’s severed head all alone in the fridge bank at the morgue.
***
Megan was tired and grumpy and she felt bad for upsetting Henry. She knew that she had, but she’d been on her feet all day in that coffee shop while he’d been able to potter around here doing nothing more strenuous than driving to pick her up. She wasn’t really mad at him, more irritated by their financial situation. She knew that he couldn’t go and get a job and had to keep a very low profile, but she would like it if she didn’t have to go to work as well.
Her eyes became heavier and she turned on her side with her back to her window, the smallest window on earth. Even the inmates at the hospital had bigger rooms, with large windows that looked out onto the landscaped gardens – even if they did have metal bars across them. They even had an en suite, which was a laugh considering what sick bastards most of them were. Most average hard-working families didn’t have such luxuries.
She didn’t regret her decision to help Henry escape but she was bored of it now, not totally bored but she was an all-or-nothing kind of girl. She wanted to kill again and read all about it in the papers, hear people discussing it in the café. Listen to them speculate about what monster could commit such crimes when the monster had just served them with a vanilla latte and a slice of lemon cake.
She was almost asleep when a loud scratching noise from under the caravan made her eyes open wide. She listened again but it was silent. She shuddered at the thought of some animal underneath there trying to get in; she hated rats or badgers, anything that wasn’t cute and fluffy. It happened again and this time she threw her covers back and sat up. It sounded as if it was directly below her bed. She lifted her duvet up to check there wasn’t a big rat under there and sighed with relief that there wasn’t. Pressing her face against the window she peered into the blackness and waited for her eyes to adjust. She couldn’t see anything. A loud thud against the metal side of the caravan shook the glass and she pulled her face back, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. Megan backed away from the window and got back on her bed. Maybe it was some stupid bird or a deer. In fact, it probably was. She turned on her side, facing away from the window, and closed her eyes.
There was no more noise and she began to drift off once more. She was almost asleep when she heard a sharp scratching noise. This time it was against the glass of her window. She turned over and screamed. There was a face peering through the glass. At least, it looked like a face, but then again it didn’t. It had the greyest skin and the sharpest teeth that were huge. It must have been tall because she couldn’t reach her window and neither could Henry – the caravan was on bricks to keep it off the ground. The thing lifted its arms to bang on the glass and Megan screamed even louder because at the end of them were razor-sharp, black claws. Henry came barging through the door in only his boxers to see what was wrong. She ran to him and threw her arms around him.
‘Jesus Christ, Megan, I thought you were being murdered.’
The irony didn’t go amiss on Henry and if it hadn’t been for the fact that she was so white and shaking he would have started to laugh.
‘There’s someone outside…not someone, something.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like a man that looks like a scary dead man but he doesn’t have any hands and he was scratching at the window.’
‘A man that didn’t look like a man with no hands was scratching on the glass? How the fuck did he manage that with no hands? You must have been dreaming.’
‘I wasn’t. It’s outside. First of all it was scratching under the caravan and then it was banging against the side. Did you not hear it?’
‘No, I was asleep. All I heard was you.’
‘I looked out but couldn’t see anything so I got back in bed and it began to scratch at the window with these horrible, sharp, black claws.’
Henry scratched at his head. She was out of her tiny mind. He didn’t think she’d been drinking. He’d never seen her take drugs. Maybe the stress was all getting too much for her and she was losing it.
‘Look, we are in a caravan park in England and as far as I know there are no men with claws for hands that live around here.’ He squeezed her tight and stroked her head.
‘You’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. We’ve done some things that would freak out most normal people and you haven’t had time to adjust. It’s probably a combination of everything and the fact that you’re tired. I swear you must have been dozing off and dreamt it. Sometimes dreams can be so realistic you don’t know that it was a dream.’
‘Will you go and check outside, please? Make sure the door is locked when you come back in, but I don’t want to stay in here on my own.’
He nodded. Barefoot and in only his underwear he went to the caravan door. It was completely dark now. He could hear the water from the lake lapping at the edge of the shore and from somewhere in the distance laughter echoed through the trees. He stood on the top step and looked around. He couldn’t see anything. He didn’t actually believe that he would. The air was a lot cooler tonight than it had been the last few days and he shivered. He stepped back inside and locked the door behind him. Megan was waiting in the kitchen clutching a frying pan in her hands. If she hadn’t looked so scared and vulnerable he would have laughed, but he didn’t.
‘There’s nothing. Honestly, you dreamt it.’
She breathed out and put the pan on the worktop, nodding her head.
‘Come on, why don’t you sleep with me tonight? We can keep each other warm and I’ll protect you.’
She followed him into the bedroom and he wondered if pretty little Megan was not as tough as she’d made out. She insisted on sleeping next to the wall, as far away from his window as possible. and she told him to draw the curtains, so nothing could look in. Henry did as she asked then climbed under the covers next to her. She was so cold she was shaking. He wrapped his arms around her and began to tell her about his plans for tomorrow.
Chapter Nine
Annie parked outside the police station and wondered who the battered, rusty Ford Transit van belonged to. Her three days off had gone so fast she couldn’t believe she was back on shift once more. She walked into the station and could hear raised voices in the front office. Heading that way to see what was going on she was surprised to see two men arguing with Cathy.
‘Look, gents, I’ve told you we are doing everything we can. I have officers and staff out now door knocking in the area you last saw him. Are you sure he hasn’t just buggered off somewhere else?’
The older of the two placed a hand on the other’s arm, trying to placate him.
‘Look, if we thought he’d pissed off back home or on to somewhere else do you think we’d be here bothering you? I’d rather cut my own throat than ask you lot for help. It’s a last resort that we’re here darkening your doorstep. We’ve checked with family, friends and anyone else we can think of. He hasn’t been seen since Thursday afternoon when we dropped him off near the caravan park and no one has heard from him. His phone was going to voicemail but now it’s dead. So you tell me, where the bloody hell is he?’
Annie stepped forward. ‘Where exactly did you drop him off on Thursday?’
Cathy let out a sigh of relief, glad to have someone to back her up. The other wimps had made a hasty retreat upstairs to the far end of the building to the refs room when they’d seen the travellers storming up the steps.
‘Near that caravan park on the way out of the town, the one between the big houses that lead onto the shore. We dropped him off to have a good look around – well, to knock on a few doors and see if anyone needed any odd jobs doing. You know, a bit of gardening, path cleaning – we does anything. He was supposed to phone up and tell us to pick him up at four. We waited and waited and he never rang. I phoned him and it just rang out so we thought he might be busy. When it got to seven and there wasn’t a peep from him we drove down there to see if we could spot him. We couldn’t find him anywhere. We walked all over that caravan park, checked along the shore. He’s nowhere to be seen. Now you tell me how a man whose idea of exercise is lifting a can of lager to his mouth could have gone anywhere and not bothered to let his family and friends know. Your boss here doesn’t believe us. She thinks we’re all out to rip little old ladies off. Just because there are a few bad eggs who do, you can’t tar us all with the same brush.’
Cathy opened her mouth then closed it again, obviously not sure that what she was about to say would actually help the situation.
‘I understand. I was in that area myself on Thursday afternoon, but I never saw him. Why don’t you let me make some inquiries and I’ll get back in touch with you as soon as I’ve spoken to some of the people around there. I cover that area and I pretty much know everyone. Give me your phone number and I’ll ring you as soon as I can.’
The men looked at each other and nodded.
‘I suppose so. You won’t go messing us around, will you? Seamus has a wife back home waiting for him and we’d like to get back home ourselves.’
He recited his number. Annie scribbled it onto a piece of paper. She thanked him and showed them to the door.
Cathy looked at her. ‘My office now.’
Annie thought that she would tell her where to go if she was going to bollock her for only trying to defuse the situation; she followed her down and shut the door behind her. She hadn’t even booked on duty yet so she had no idea who would be in the office listening to their conversation.
‘Thank God you arrived when you did. Were you really down there or did you just say that to fob the thieving little bastards off?’
‘I went to a job at Beckett House. Do you know it?’
‘I do, although I haven’t been there for years. Is old Martha Beckett still alive?’
‘She is, very much. The thing is she reported that a young man who looked and sounded to be of traveller origin had gone missing in her cellar.’
Cathy spat the coffee she had just slurped all over her shirt.
‘Jesus, please tell me you’re winding me up. Why didn’t I know about this? Did you search the cellar?’
‘You were busy with the severed head and the call came in just after I’d come on shift. Yes, I searched the cellar and had a look around the grounds. When we spoke to Miss Beckett it sounded as if she was slightly delusional.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I came back and put an intel report and a vulnerable adult form in for her. She’s in her nineties and living in that big old house.’
‘Shit, I fobbed them off yesterday when they came. I’d already had three complaints from residents about them being overly persuasive and overpriced when they knocked on doors. So where is this Seamus? Has he shacked up with some bird he’s met at the caravan park? Or maybe he hit the big time and robbed Martha Beckett and didn’t want to split the profits?’
‘Or maybe he is missing? You see, I actually believed her when I spoke to her. She said that the cellar is a bad place and that her younger brother went down there when he was nine years old and was never seen again.’
‘Argh.’
Cathy buried her head in her hands and shook it. Annie waited for her to look up.
‘Right, you, me and two PCSOs are going to pay Martha Beckett a visit. We’ll see if she’s changed her story. Have you ever seen the film Arsenic and Old Lace?’
Annie shook her head.
‘Really? Well, you should. It’s a brilliant old black and white film, but to cut a long story short it’s about two sisters who run a boarding house and let in male guests. They think they are being kind and poison them to end their suffering, then hide their bodies in the cellar. Maybe it’s Martha Beckett’s favourite film and she’s decided to copy it.’
‘Well, that’s all very good, boss, but the problem is, how would a ninety-year-old woman who looks quite frail manage to drag the body of a young, fit man down those steps – which are really steep – into the cellar and then hide his body. Because me and George searched all over and couldn’t find anything.’
‘Well, maybe she didn’t put him in the cellar. I don’t know; it’s just a theory. Come on, we’d better get there and search the house before the shit hits the fan.’
Annie didn’t agree with a word Cathy had just said. She had a hunch, a very real one, that Miss Martha Beckett had been telling the truth all along and that at least two people had disappeared from that cellar, and that one day they would find the skeletons of them both.
‘I have a bad feeling about this, Annie, a really bad feeling.’
Annie nodded. She couldn’t agree more. Then she went to get her kit on. As she walked down the corridor to the locker room she lifted her fingers to check the crucifix that her dear friend Father John had given to her when she was about to go into battle with the Shadow Man to save Sophie’s soul. It was still around her neck, tucked under her shirt. Not only had he helped her to fight the scariest demon she’d ever come across, he’d also been there to help her put the skeleton of scary Betsy Baker to rest. She lifted it to her lips and kissed it, asking God for all the help she could get, and hoped that she wouldn’t have to drag John – who at his age should be taking it easy – into this mess.
***
Henry parked the silver van in the hotel car park and turned off the engine. It was one of the classier establishments in Barrow. In fact it was probably the classiest with its imposing red sandstone blocks glowing in the setting sun. The car park was huge and he had parked the van in a far corner next to a copse of trees so they couldn’t be seen from any of the hotel windows. Megan had checked and found there were CCTV cameras but none of them was in the car park, which suited their needs perfectly. They were probably on camera entering the car park but he didn’t really care. The chances that the cameras were good enough to pick up the registration number were slim, and if they did they would dump the van and find another mode of transport.
There were a lot of cars so it must be busy inside. What they were waiting for was a woman to come out on her own. Preferably one who was a bit drunk, but they would take their chances. At Megan’s insistence whoever it was had to have long hair because she had this thing about women who looked down on others and had long hair that they loved as much as themselves, which Henry thought was stupid. At this very moment in time they weren’t in a position to pick and choose their victims, but he wanted to make her happy. Since last night she’d been very subdued and hadn’t made much conversation at all. A woman came out on her own who matched the profile perfectly, and she had black mascara trails down her cheeks.
‘Had a barney with her boyfriend. He keeps staring at the younger bird on the next table. I’ll bet you a fiver.’
