32
October 17 . . .
If there was one thing Jack knew about, it was emotional pain. The heartbreak of his wife’s betrayal and subsequent departure, the grief he’d suffered after Josh’s death. Dark, desperate months when he’d wished he, too, had died, unable to believe he’d get through that terrible loss. Grief was a lonely place; it had space only for one. He hadn’t got over losing Josh. You never did—not with your own child. It had changed the world—had changed him, too. He wasn’t the same person he had been before.
As for Evie, he hardly dared think how long and unbearable each day must be. Days during which she imagined Angel somewhere, with an unknown someone, knowing the little girl would be missing her mother, wouldn’t understand why she hadn’t come. Imagining the best outcome, which was that she was being cared for, before glimpsing the worst, waiting for the onslaught of pain, embracing its violence, holding on to the only thought that kept her sane: that every day they didn’t find a body, there was still hope.
Sometimes, it was all you had—hope. He’d clung to it as he and Louise had rushed to the hospital. Even as they’d stood at Josh’s bedside, watching him when he was wired up to drips and machines, his eyes closed, his breathing mechanical. The realization had hit Jack like a thunderbolt: though his body was still functioning, Josh had gone.
From what he knew about Nick, he wasn’t sure the man could have attacked Evie—not with the level of brutality that had left her fighting for her life. He believed in listening to his gut, and right now his gut was telling him Nick hadn’t done it. But from bitter experience, Jack knew that until there was proof, no one could be sure.
Having seen her face, the distant look in her eyes, the dullness of her responses, Jack knew about the uncertainty that had Evie in its grip, an uncertainty that verged on insanity. He knew she was on pills that numbed everything; slowed the rate at which her brain worked; blunted her thoughts, her feelings, until they were running at half speed—all there, just less so. He remembered it all too well. The pills made it bearable, if you could call it that, kept her head just above the water, so that instead of drowning, she could float.
What he also knew was that inertia killed you. When your child was in danger, if there was anything you could do, you had to do it. Evie had been stuck first in the hospital, then in the house, apart from the brief episode when she’d run off and worried Abbie half to death. He had a day off tomorrow. Instead of chopping yet more firewood and sitting at home, letting the emptiness of the house get to him, suddenly he knew what to do.
* * *
“Meet Beamer.” His dog was wagging his tail with characteristic enthusiasm. “Are you okay with dogs?”
“I like them.” Evie reached a tentative hand out for Beamer to sniff. “I have a cat. He adopted us after we moved here.” She frowned. “I haven’t seen him for a while. Sometimes he’s gone for a couple of days, but not longer than that.”
“Maybe he got shut in somewhere,” Jack suggested. Cats did their own thing. One had somehow got locked in his shed without him knowing.
Evie was silent.
“He’ll turn up. It’s a bit of a mess.” Jack was talking about his car. “I thought it made sense to drive up the road a bit and walk from there.” He’d thought that by driving some of the way, she could conserve what little energy she had, save it for walking.
After climbing into the car, she didn’t say anything. Carefully, he drove down the bumpy road.
“I keep looking,” he said quietly. “All the time. Everywhere I go. The villagers round here, they’re all looking, too. They want to help, did you know that?”
Through the trees, a ray of sun caught his eye. Nothing sounded right. It was good that everyone was looking, but Angel hadn’t been found. What else would it take?
“Is there anywhere in particular you’d like to go?” he asked.
She shook her head. He wondered how much of the countryside she recognized. He didn’t like to ask. Half a mile up the road, he turned up a dirt lane through the trees, and after a hundred yards or so, he pulled over and parked.
“These are the same woods that your yard backs onto. Searches have combed the area closest to your house. Does this seem like a good spot for us to start out?”
The woods had many moods. On a morning like this, they were beautiful, with the low sun filtering through the branches, dazzling in his eyes. It was hard to believe they were the same woods that had seemed so hostile the other night, when he’d seen the stag.
It was clearly an effort for Evie, and even though they walked slowly, every so often they paused for Evie to lean against a tree.
“Are you okay?”
“No.” The word stuck in her throat, making her cough.
Jack shook his head, exasperated with himself. “I’m sorry. Of course you’re not. How can you be?”
She dragged her gaze up to look at him, and her eyes appraised him; in their depths, he could see her sorrow. He felt a shock of compassion as something unspoken passed between them. A knowledge that came instinctively.
Somehow she knew that something had happened to him, too.
“I know how you feel.” He was compelled to reach out to her. It was impossible not to. Only when you’d been through what they both had could you know how it felt.
As she looked at him again, he could see behind her sadness that she believed him.
“I lost my son.”
Here, under the trees, the connection between them was tangible as a realization came to him. In all the time her daughter had been missing, of all the people she’d spoken to, he was the first person who understood.
As they walked, he told her about his police career, about how so much had changed when Josh was killed.
“One of his friends was driving. He’d passed his test a month earlier. Josh was sitting in the passenger seat. They were going to a party.” His voice was level, matter of fact, as if he was talking about a stranger. “The friend pulled out in front of a truck. He died instantly. Josh was seriously injured. He was in a coma for two weeks before he died.”
He saw the shock register on her face. He wasn’t after sympathy. He was telling her so that she knew he understood.
“When did it happen?”
“Three years ago. My wife never got over it. Jesus, nor have I.” Jack fell silent, not wanting to burden her when she was already dealing with so much.
She hesitated. “Was he your only child?”
“No.” The word was lost, as though he’d swallowed it. “No,” he said again, more clearly. “We have a daughter. Stephanie. She’s twenty-two. She moved out after. Things got difficult between us. My wife had an affair. . . .” He looked at her. “She moved out not long ago.”
Suddenly, he was back in the hidden, unspoken world of parents who’d lost children, who didn’t talk about what had happened to them, because it was too heartbreakingly sad or because no one wanted to listen. It overlapped with Evie’s world yet was miles apart. Jack’s son would never come back, but Evie could still hope.
“I’m so sorry.” Her words were heartfelt as the echo of his loss filtered through. She touched his arm. “So very sorry you lost him.”
The lump in his throat prevented Jack from speaking, Instead, they continued walking, the path narrowing until their arms were touching. For the second time this morning, it was there. Hope. He wanted Evie to feel it surging through her veins, rousing her from her bleakness. It wasn’t always better to know the truth. It was better to have something to hold on to for as long as you could. To believe Angel could be found, to give up only when hope had finally gone. You had to keep going.
As they walked, the trees became more densely spaced, and it was as though the sun had dimmed, holding the woods in a kind of half-light. Jack wasn’t familiar with this area. He could see Evie glancing around for anything out of place. The effort it was taking was obvious, but she seemed driven onward by that same flicker of hope.
After a while, the woods become sparser again, the trees thinning out, with sprawling rhododendron bushes on either side of the path. Ahead of them was a patch of sunlight, where the trees cleared altogether, and as they got nearer, Jack could make out a lake.
Evie stopped suddenly, her face stricken. “Will the police have searched here?”
“As far as I know.” Jack wanted to reassure her. “But I’ll check.”
As they got closer, he could see narrow streams leading into and out of the lake, each of them lost in a thick bank of reeds, and over them, a series of small arched stone bridges.
There was something incongruous about the bridges, as they were set in such wild surroundings. He walked over the first, Evie close behind, then round to the other side of the lake, where there was another, steeper bridge. He paused on top of it to look for a moment into the black, oily water beneath. There were no visible signs of life, no tendrils of weeds floating on the water, no insects, no lily pads. Apart from an occasional bubble reaching the surface, there was nothing.
There was something eerie about the place, its heavy silence, the stillness. The only life he could see was in the towering nests crawling with giant wood ants. Avoiding them, he kept walking round to the back of the lake, where there was another bridge over another, smaller stream.
The bushes were denser here, and the path narrower, pushing them closer to the lake’s edge. Up ahead, a small derelict building blocked the path. An old workman’s shed, Jack guessed, finding himself drawn closer. Built of wood and bricks, it was in a poor state of repair: a number of tiles missing from the roof, the original door wrenched off and replaced by a rusty grill, which was held closed by a heavy chain and padlock.
After stopping in front of it, he peered inside, but there was nothing, just what looked like years of dead leaves covering the floor, pushed up at the sides in some places, where the wind had caught them.
“I can see something.” Evie was beside him. “There.” Her hand was trembling as she pointed.
Jack stared more closely, trying to focus on where she was pointing. Through the gloom he made out the shape of something. He reached into his pocket for the flashlight he always carried, switched it on, pointed its beam through the grill, then felt himself recoil when he saw something that didn’t belong there.
Beside him, he felt Evie stiffen. “What is it?” There was a note of panic in her voice.
Holding the light steady, in the beam he saw a severed doll’s head.
At his side, Evie gasped. On its side, seeming to stare up from the floor at them, the doll’s head was ghoulish, making the back of Jack’s neck prickle. Evie jumped back.
“It’s okay.” Jack turned. “Just kids messing around.” Did kids really do that these days? Plant dolls’ heads in strange places?
“Can we go?” The sight had clearly disturbed Evie.
Jack nodded, and she turned around, started to retrace their footsteps, then broke into a shaky run.
“Hey, Evie. Hold on. There’s no hurry.” She looked so weak, Jack was worried about her stumbling. After catching up, he grabbed her arm. “It’s okay,” he said again. But as she turned to look at him, he could see it wasn’t.
“I can’t bear it.” Her voice was tinged with hysteria. “I keep thinking I remember a man at the door. But I can’t see his face.... Even when I’m alone, I can’t get away from this voice in my head. It tells me to trust no one. . . .”
Jack could see she was at the end of her tether. Wherever Evie turned, there was no respite for her. How could there be?
* * *
There were cars outside Jessamine Cottage when they got back. Jack frowned. He hadn’t been aware of another search so close to the house today. There was no sign of Abbie’s car, he noticed, suddenly worried about leaving Evie alone. Everything was too traumatic, and she wasn’t strong.
“I thought Abbie would be here.” Jack stopped the Land Rover beside the gate. “Will you be okay?”
Evie nodded, a slight movement that was almost lost in the poor light. “Thank you.” As she looked at him, he was surprised to see the gratitude in her eyes.
“You’re welcome. I’m only sorry we didn’t find anything.”
She looked away.
“You’d better go inside.” He nodded toward the gate.
Opening the car door, she looked at him briefly, then got out.
“You take care,” he said softly, then put the car into gear and pulled away. As he turned round, above the sound of the engine he heard her scream.