1st December 2019
Night
We left the hut separately: first Holly, then a few minutes later Michael, and after a cigarette, I crawled out of the hatch. I hoped I would never come back. The hut wasn’t the place it once was for me, for us. And being inside only brought pain and sadness. I began to walk back towards the village in the pouring rain and by the time I reached the pub, the damp that was confined to my toes had climbed up my socks, making my whole body feel cold.
As I closed the door behind me, I felt the room quieten, just for a beat, before the noise returned.
Taking off my coat, I shook excess water off and scanned the room to see if Thompson was there. I couldn’t see him. That didn’t mean much. Approaching the bar, Derrick had his head down, pouring a Coke; he looked tired and I couldn’t remember if the last time I saw him, I asked how he was. It seemed with Georgia, and now Baz, going missing, and what that meant, Jamie had been forgotten. He was still a part of the gossip, but now he was more of a secondary character. As I drew closer, he looked up. He shook his head and then flicked a glance to the right. I followed, and saw Hastings at the end of the bar, his back to me, talking into his phone. Looking back to Derrick, he flicked his head to the left and understanding, I walked around the bar, towards the darkest corner and sat at the same table I’d seen Thompson on my first night.
Derrick approached, a large drink in his hand, and he put it down in front of me.
‘I got you a JD, I hope that’s all right?’
‘It’s perfect, thank you. And thank you for giving me the heads-up.’
‘Hastings is always here; I don’t know why he isn’t out finding the three of them.’
‘I think that new DCI has put his nose out of joint.’
‘He’s a spoilt little shit. More concerned with theories and speculation than doing any actual work. Like he’s that investigator fella from the old books. You know, the Agatha Christie ones.’
‘Poirot,’ I smiled; Derrick and I had the same assumption of the weaselly little man in the police uniform.
‘Yes, that’s the fella. And, I want you to know, he doesn’t much like you.’
‘I know. What’s he said?’
‘He keeps on about how what’s happening is connected to Chloe. And that you know more than you let on about it.’
He waited for me to reply – intently watching, trying to see if there was any truth in what Hastings was saying.
‘He was the same back in 1998. He was part of the reason I left. Derrick, he scares me a bit.’
His look softened. ‘Well, don’t worry. He’ll not bother you while you’re in here.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t mention it.’
Derrick affectionately tapped me on the forearm twice and headed back to the bar. As he did, Thompson passed him coming the other way, towards me. Derrick paused, turned and caught my eye. I smiled, telling him I was all right. He smiled back but didn’t look convinced as he rounded the corner to serve another customer. Thompson approached the table, nodded, removed his heavy coat and sat himself down opposite me with a heave.
‘Thanks for coming out, DCI…’
‘Robert.’
‘Robert.’
‘Is everything all right, Miss Chambers?’
‘Yes, I think,’ I said, clipped, knowing he was trying to pry beyond my wellbeing. ‘If I’ve got to call you Robert, will you call me Neve?’
‘Seems like a fair request. So, how are you doing, Neve?’
I don’t know why, but it was in this moment the walls crashed down and my emotions flooded over me. I wasn’t all right, I was far from it. With Oliver, the café robbery and Dad’s health all existing underneath the horror of me and my friends being picked off one by one, I was shocked I’d made it so far without falling into pieces. I didn’t cry, I just buried my head into my hands and held my breath until I was sure I wouldn’t pass out. Thankfully, the moment passed.
‘Let me get us a couple of drinks,’ he said, giving me a little space to get my thoughts back in order. I knew what he was doing; he was playing the classic good cop thing he’d done back in 1998. I didn’t mind. After a few minutes he returned with a pint for him, and another JD for me. I wasn’t sure if he asked Derrick, or if he knew what I drank. I hoped the former. I didn’t like him being that observant. He may be older, but his mind was still keen. I needed to be careful of what I said, and how I said it.
‘Thank you,’ I said as I took the drink from his broad, ageing hand. It would be easy to drink several drinks tonight, but I knew this would be my last this evening, just enough booze floating around to take off the edge. But nothing more.
‘So, I’m assuming we aren’t here for a social drink. Neve, what’s on your mind?’
‘I guess I’m just having a hard time with it all.’
‘Specifically?’ he said, clearly in no mood for small talk.
‘That no one in this village believes me about the Drifter.’
‘Well, you can’t blame them, can you? He is a person you and your friends claimed to have seen the night Chloe disappeared.’
‘Not just that night. We saw him for weeks leading up to…’ I hesitated; I didn’t want to say ‘the night Chloe disappeared’.
‘Yes, I remember, he was hanging around. She even wrote in her diary about how he had seen her outside her house on a few occasions.’ I nodded and looked down, my fingernails were dirty. I couldn’t remember the last time I painted them.
‘I’m assuming you know about what happened to me in 2003?’ I said quietly, forcing myself to hold his gaze when he looked towards me.
‘Yes. Hastings told me. He said it made you unreliable.’
I thought as much. ‘Robert, yes, I did have an episode when I was young, I’m not going to deny that to anyone, but I have seen him here. I promise you, this isn’t the same thing.’
He continued to hold my gaze for a moment, considering me; I couldn’t get a read of what he was thinking. Eventually, he leant back, took a few mouthfuls of his pint and nodded.
‘As I’ve said, I believe you.’
‘Robert, who is he?’
Looking over my head he observed the other patrons in the pub, assessing them with his smoky eyes. Content we were not being watched or listened to, he leant in slightly and spoke in a hushed tone.
‘Back then, the future of the mine wasn’t set. We didn’t know that it would become a place of historical interest and protected, like it is now. In fact, the word was it would be filled and bulldozed. Probably turned into a block of flats. The company that owned the mine employed people to salvage what they could from down there – tools, materials, things that could be sold on abroad. We always believed your “Drifter” was one of these employees. It explains why he was around the mine. It also explains why no one knew who he was. These employees usually came from outside the village. You know, cash-in-hand types.’
‘Why would they employ people from outside? Wasn’t most of the village out of work?’
‘It was too soon, too raw.’
It made sense. Dad was so sad after the mine closed, if someone had asked him to go down and bring up things to sell on, he would have said no. It might have broken him.
‘So, where did he go?’
‘After Chloe, he must have left. We tried to trace him through the employer. Their staff turnover was high and paying people cash in hand meant there wasn’t a proper employment register. Although there was no recession in the nineties, there was a spike in interest rates around 1998, and it meant lots of working-class people lost their homes. It made it almost impossible to trace everyone who was employed by the colliery for the clean-up operation. People worked and moved onto the next quick fix. It was just as it was. Whoever he was, he’s kept a low profile for a very long time.’
‘And now he is back.’
‘So it appears.’
Robert took another long sip of his pint and as he placed it down, I watched him lose himself to thoughts. I didn’t want to interrupt. The more he was thinking about the Drifter being here now, the less he was thinking about anything else, which was exactly what we needed.
‘The only thing that still isn’t making any sense,’ he said looking at his pint, his eyebrows knitted in concentration, ‘is why now – why has he come back after all this time?’
‘Robert, what if he’s been waiting for me to come home?’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘What if he has always been here, and he’s doing this now, because I am back?’
‘Have you not been back until now?’
‘Fleeting visits. Never for more than an hour.’
‘I see, that’s interesting,’ he said, as he looked up and away, thinking, visualising.
‘So, you think it’s one of the villagers?’
‘I’m not accusing anyone, but for years there has been nothing, and then the second I’m back, we are going missing.’
‘Jamie went missing before you came home.’
‘He did, but what if Jamie was taken to get me to come back?’
Thompson nodded, sipped his pint. ‘That would make sense, but why is he doing this?’ he asked.
‘I wish I knew.’
‘It’s been two decades, why now?’ he questioned himself. ‘What is his motivation now?’ he asked, this time directly at me.
‘I don’t know,’ I lied. Of course, I knew: he wanted to punish us for ruining his life when we lied about Chloe.
‘I know I missed something in 1998, I just can’t think what that could be,’ Thompson said intensely, and I swallowed, my mouth becoming dry suddenly. I was glad I’d only had two JDs.
‘Robert, what do we do?’ I managed to say, my voice even, hiding the sudden spike of fear.
‘Well, I’m going to lean on Hastings a bit, see if the kid can give me anything.’
‘Like what?’ I asked, glad the conversation was moving on.
‘Forensics from the tops. Any other abnormalities or clues from the crime scenes. My first concern is your friends. We need to find them.’
‘What if…’
‘We don’t work in “what’s ifs”, Neve. Let’s keep to the assumption they are alive, until we have to think of anything else. We did the same with Chloe, even long after she was “buried” we kept looking for her.’
‘Yes, sorry. I’m just freaking out.’
‘Well, try to calm yourself because I need you to keep me posted, see if you can remember anything from back then that might help us now. Can you do that?’
‘Yes.’
Lie.
‘Good. Is there anything else you want to say to me?’
His question made my skin prickle. It was an odd way of wording it, like he was testing me.
‘Hastings called me into his office.’
‘Yes, I heard. What did he want?’
‘To try to intimidate me – it doesn’t help that I’m the only one to have seen the Drifter.’
‘That we know about.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘If what’s suggested is going on, Jamie, Georgia and Baz saw the Drifter too.’
I thought about that for a moment – he was right. They would have seen the Drifter, right before he did whatever he did to them. It made me wonder, why hasn’t he attacked me in the same way? Why is he taunting me by hanging around in the shadows?
‘I think you need to keep a low profile,’ Robert said, as if reading my mind. ‘You, Holly and Michael. I don’t think any of you are safe. Whoever has taken your friends, I think they are close. He could be any one of us.’ His attention drifted away from me.
Robert’s stark warning was amplified by him looking over my head towards the others in the pub. Thanking him again I got up, put on my coat and headed for the door. As I did, Hastings watched me from the bar, a curious expression on his face, one that almost looked like a smile.