45
EVIE
She’d had the strangest dream. She’d been walking along a stony farm road. It was definitely winter, the sky overcast, the trees bare, when she’d noticed a honeysuckle flowering at the roadside, not the isolated sprig you might expect at this time of year, but a swath of it, tumbling over the hedge. A splash of color and scent against the stark landscape.
As she’d looked around, suddenly it was as though it was spring. On either side of her, tiny flowers were emerging through the straggly autumn grass, little stars of white wood anemones and yellow celandine, primroses, mayflower, tiny scabious, daisies, their buds slowly opening until they formed an avenue of color on either side of her. It was extraordinary, magical. Made no sense.
Then she’d heard the birds. To her amazement, she’d seen the hedges full of them, their song deafening.
It was late afternoon when she woke up and saw the crow. She’d wandered into the kitchen to make a cup of tea when she noticed it just outside the back door. She paused to admire the oily sheen on its feathers as she watched it fly up and try to perch on the windowsill. Unable to get a grip, fluttering its wings to hold itself there, it pecked at the glass, its round eyes staring sharply into hers.
It was most un-birdlike behavior. Then she noticed it was holding something in its beak.
There was a churning feeling in her stomach as she grabbed a slice of bread, then hurried outside and sat on the doorstep. But before she could tear off a piece of bread and toss it in the direction of the bird, it hopped over and dropped something in front of her.
It was tiny. She picked it up, held the small stone between her fingers, noticed it wasn’t a stone at all. It was a bead. The crow had brought her a bead.
“Thank you.” She lobbed a piece of the bread toward it, but ignoring it, the bird turned around and flew away.
She looked at the bead more closely, rubbed away the light dusting of dried mud, made out a letter on it. In pink. An E.
Her mind froze. For several minutes, she sat there, staring at it, as more birds came into the yard. She threw the remaining bread for them, then went back inside to fetch the rest of the loaf.
As she sat on the doorstep again, another crow landed on the grass, then hopped toward her, not the slightest bit afraid. The same crow? Her heart missed a beat as it dropped another bead in front of her. An L. It was pushed aside by another crow carrying another bead. This time an A.
Slowly, she realized she recognized the beads. They were from one of those little bracelets made of thin, stretchy elastic and bearing a name that small children wear sometimes. She needed an N and a G. She willed the crows to bring them to her, tears pouring down her cheeks, the outpouring of weeks of uncertainty, of not trusting herself, as she tore up the remaining bread slices, scattered the pieces for the birds as more flew down from the trees. There were dozens of them, blackbirds, thrushes, sparrows, finches, and crows, of course, and she listened to the beautiful sound they were making. Suddenly, she was aware of all their eyes on her. They hopped away as she got to her feet and ran inside to find her phone.
Instead of sharing her excitement that at last, she had tangible proof that Angel was real, Abbie sounded flustered when Evie told her about the beads.
“Is anyone with you?” Abbie asked.
“No.”
“Someone’s on their way over. Stay in the house, Evie. Don’t let anyone in.”
“Why? What’s happened, Abbie?” The DC sounded worried. Evie needed to know what was going on.
But Abbie cut her short. “I’m really sorry, Evie. I can’t talk now. I have to be somewhere.”
Then she was gone, leaving Evie shaking with disappointment and fear. Why was someone on their way over? Was she in danger? Or had there been another murder? She’d never heard Abbie talk like that.
But she knew she couldn’t stay in the house. The beads meant something; she was sure of it. It was possible they weren’t Angel’s. With a sinking feeling, she realized that it could be an H that was missing. They could be Leah’s.
Suddenly, her head felt like it was spinning. She must know who took Leah all those years ago. All the pieces were there, floating in her head, just out of reach. Then she heard a car coming up the road toward her house. From what Abbie had said, once the police arrived, they weren’t going to let her go anywhere.
She had to get out right now. After grabbing her jacket, she put the beads in her pocket, along with her phone, then closed the door quietly behind her and ran across the yard into the woods.
Walking fast, she chose the opposite direction from where she’d found the graves. She didn’t want to think about them. Instead, she needed to follow this sixth sense that seemed to have taken over her mind, telling her to keep going along this path until it met open fields, where, if you looked into the distance, you could see the sea.
So often the woods were quiet, but today they were alive with birds, rabbits, squirrels. Through the trees, she saw a group of deer, all of them raising their heads to watch her, instead of turning to run away. And all the time, there was a voice whispering to her. The same voice that so often had told her to trust no one was now telling her to keep going.. . .
Somewhere behind her, she heard a dog bark. Beamer? She wished he was with her, running at her side. If she’d had time, she’d have asked Jack if she could borrow him. But she hadn’t.
She knew something about Leah Danning. The day the little girl had disappeared, she had seen something.
Reaching the fields, she climbed the stile and dropped down onto the grass. It was damp, and the ground underfoot was soft from all the rain they’d had. Across the field, the sheep ignored her as she started striding along the footpath. Then she heard her phone ring. After pulling it out of her pocket, she saw Abbie’s number displayed on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Evie? Are you all right? Where are you?”
“I’m fine. I had to go out, Abbie. It’s the beads. They mean something. I’m sure of it.”
“Evie . . .” Abbie hesitated. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but forensics found a third grave. It’s years old, but they’ve found a child’s body. It could be that those beads came from there. . . .”
“No, Abbie. You’re wrong. I’ve listened to what everyone’s said for too long. I’m making my own decisions now.”
“You need to go back to the house. PC Evans is there. She’s expecting you.”
She hadn’t taken to PC Evans—Sara. The officer had no feelings, no sympathy.
“I can’t, Abbie. I’m sorry.”
“Evie, you’re in danger. We think Xander Pascoe’s after you.”
“Why?” she screamed in the phone. “What have I done?”
“You know something—” Abbie started, but Evie cut her off. Then she switched her phone off, walked faster, her optimism tainted by Abbie’s call. She looked toward the graying skies, saw that the distant sea was a murky color rather than its usual clear blue.
Whatever she knew about Leah was connected to Xander. Why the feelings of shame when she thought of him? She pictured his mean eyes and his cruel mouth. Remembered his hands on her, his lips on hers. Felt herself shudder. Did that happen? If it did, when?
As she reached the other side of the field, she climbed another stile into a narrow lane. Which way? A robin flew past her, and without thinking, she followed it until it darted off to the side. She kept walking, focusing on the lane ahead of her, until a splash of color caught her eye.
Bluebells? It couldn’t be. They never flowered in October, and certainly not in open grass on the side of a lane. A breath of their hyacinth scent reached her. There was no mistaking them.
Suddenly she was reminded of her dream. She’d been walking somewhere not dissimilar to this. Walking more slowly, she scrutinized the roadside for more out-of-season flowers, but this wasn’t the dream. It was Cornwall in October.
The lane sloped uphill, then went round a corner, where she came to a crossroads. There were no signposts. Unsure which road to take, she walked straight ahead for a few yards before the same instinct that had brought her this far forced her back.
As she stood in the middle of the crossroads, she noticed some twigs in bud. Then a robin swooped past her again, followed by another, making the decision for her. She broke into a run.
The road was like the one in her dream. Stony, fit only for tractors and farm vehicles. She had no idea where she was. She must have been walking for two hours. The sky had got darker, more menacing. In her head, thoughts were pushing to the forefront, then vanishing before she could give them words.
Leah and Angel. Were they the same person? Were her memories of Angel just the dreams she’d had for the baby she lost, or had she been right all along and someone had taken her child? She still didn’t have the answers, but they were getting closer.
She wasn’t questioning what she was doing here. Instead, she was thinking about the attack. Was it to do with Leah’s disappearance? It would explain what Abbie had just said, why someone was still after her.
She should call someone. After taking out her phone, she switched it on, saw a list of missed calls from Abbie. But it wasn’t Abbie whom Evie wanted to speak to. She found his number.
“Jack?”
“Where are you, Evie?” He sounded worried. “I can hardly hear you. Abbie’s been trying to call you. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. It’s the birds, Jack, hundreds of birds.... You should see them. . . .” It was true. There was a whole flock of them circling above her.
“Tell me where you are.”
“I don’t know. I walked across the field we came to the first time we walked together. Do you remember? Where you could see the sea?”
“Yes.”
“It comes to a lane. I turned right and followed it to a crossroads, and then I turned right again. I’m on a farm road now.”
“I think I know where you are. Evie?” Jack paused. “Has your cat come back?”
Why was he asking about her cat? “Not yet . . . Why?”
“It doesn’t matter. Can you stay where you are? At least till I get there.”
“Don’t tell Abbie . . . ,” she started, but he’d already gone.
Ignoring his instructions to wait for him, she kept walking. She hoped he wouldn’t tell Abbie. Abbie would make her go home and wait in that house, which had become a prison. She stopped. The road had come to an end. Ahead, there was a rusted farm gate. On the other side, there was a collection of derelict farm buildings. After looking around and seeing no sign of anyone, she climbed over the gate.
It was as if she’d crossed over to a place where there were no birds. Not a single out-of-season flower. It was deathly quiet, the air heavy with expectation and menace. Her skin prickled as she thought of what Abbie had said, imagined Xander Pascoe somehow waiting for her. She took a tentative step forward as quietly as she could on the loose stones.
As she made for the first of the buildings, her unease built. There was an air of decay, menace. The first building she came to was filled with rusting farm machinery that looked as though it hadn’t been used in years. She moved on to the next, a smaller barn, tentatively pushed the heavy door open, peered inside, but it was empty.
There were a couple of box stalls, their doors swung open, the bedding left from when they were last occupied. Then she came to another barn, but this time it was locked.
Her hands were tingling, her nerves on edge. The sound of footsteps reached her ears. They were some distance away, coming closer. Looking around for somewhere to hide, she saw only an old rain barrel buried in a patch of weeds. She crouched behind it and watched as a man’s figure came into sight—and then she breathed a sigh of relief. It was Jack.
Slowly, she stood up. He saw her, and an expression of relief washed over his face as he hurried toward her.
“God, Evie. Are you all right?”
Before she could answer, his arms were round her. As the tension left her body, she could feel the warmth of his, and for the first time in as long as she could remember, she was aware that she was safe. But she pulled away.
“Jack, there’s a barn. It’s locked. We need to look inside. There’s something weird going on here.”
But he took her arm. “Evie, I think the strain has got to you. Let me give you a lift home. My car’s over there.” He nodded toward the rusty gate she’d climbed over.
“Not yet.” She couldn’t go until she’d checked the barn. “It’s locked. I need you to help me.”
He didn’t say anything, just stood there, looking worried. “I’m not breaking into any barn, Evie. I’ve come to take you home.”
Then she remembered the beads, and fishing in her pocket, she pulled them out one by one.
“Look.” She was desperate for him to understand that she was terrified to believe what the beads could mean, but she couldn’t ignore them.
“A, E, L,” he said.
She let him work it out.
“If I don’t look inside this barn, I’ll never know,” she pleaded. “Just this one, and then we’ll go.”
He hesitated, then nodded his head. “Okay.”
Having seen the padlocked door on the barn, he looked around and found a metal bar, then used it to force the door open.
“I can’t find my phone.” He looked worried. “I probably left it in my car. Wait here, Evie. Don’t go in until I’m back.”
But she couldn’t wait. She knew as she watched him disappear out of sight that even minutes could mean the difference between life and death.
Other than the strip of dim light where the door was open, it was completely dark inside the barn. Using the light on her phone, she shone a beam around. Mostly it was empty space, old timbers draped with cobwebs, but at one end there was a crudely built wall with a door.
She was walking toward it when she became aware of someone walking behind her. Spinning round, she expected to see Jack, not this person. This was someone who didn’t belong here. She heard herself gasp.
“Hello, Jen.”
It was as if she was caught in another of her dreams. What was Charlotte doing here? She looked different, not at all like the cool, confident Charlotte who’d been to her house. There was a wild, manic look in her eyes as they darted around the barn. As she took a step nearer, from the strip of light at the door, Evie saw she was holding a knife.
Evie took a step back. “What are you doing?” Her voice was shaking, but she needed to keep Charlotte talking, buy herself time, until Jack came back.
“You can’t be surprised. Or have you really forgotten?” Charlotte’s eyes were vicious; her words like venom as she spat them out. “How could you, Jen? How could you be so happy in your pretty house with your pretty little daughter when it was your fault that Leah died?”
“I didn’t hurt Leah.” Edging away, Evie was shaking her head.
“Liar!” The word pierced the darkness. “If you hadn’t been there, it wouldn’t have happened. I told everyone, but no one believed me. They believed you.”
“But you weren’t there, don’t you remember?” Or had she been? Something in Charlotte’s voice triggered a memory, and in that split second Evie knew this wasn’t Charlotte Harrison.
“It wasn’t my fault.” Evie tried to keep her voice calm as the memories came flooding back, a tidal wave of them, hitting her all at once. “Someone else took Leah. I was distracted. I shouldn’t have been. I know that.”
It had been a setup; Evie knew that now. Xander Pascoe had been at the Dannings’ house that morning. She could remember being flattered by the way he was flirting with her. How she flirted back, when she should have been keeping her eyes on Leah. How shocked she was when he kissed her. That awful, terrifying moment when she realized Leah was gone, she’d never forget.
Hearing another movement from outside, praying it was Jack, she stood her ground. “You always needed someone else to blame, didn’t you, for the way your parents treated you, for the way you behaved? But that wasn’t anyone else’s fault, Casey. It was yours.”
As Evie spoke her name, Casey’s eyes glittered. Evie could remember them now. Casey and Charley, both with long, dark hair and a disregard for everything and everyone. At the time, she’d disliked both of them. She should have seen her mistake, but so much time had passed, they’d become entwined in her head, and her memory loss had compounded her confusion, so that they even looked the same to her.
Evie went on. “You gave yourself away. It was you who helped Sophie with her French homework, not Charlotte. That’s the thing that didn’t ring true, that was bothering me.” More and more was falling into place. Then Evie stared at her, aghast. “You were there. The day Leah disappeared. You were supposed to be away, but you came back.” Her mouth fell open. “I saw you.”
On that day, Mrs. Danning had looked troubled; the shadows under her eyes had given her away. Casey wasn’t at all well, she’d told Evie. Evie had asked her what was wrong. She’d hesitated, then told her that Casey had attacked her. Evie had been shocked, and even more so when Mrs. Danning told her about Casey’s venomous outbursts, her hatred, her jealousy of her sister. Casey had gone to stay with an old friend for a while. Mrs. Danning had been unable to hide her worry. Evie could remember the forced smile that had been too bright when Leah came in. But Casey had been there that day. Suddenly, she could remember. Evie had glimpsed her face, framed in an upstairs window, and their eyes had met for a split second. All this time, the memory had been blocked out, but Evie knew, with certainty, it was true.
“It was you.” Evie didn’t know where her courage had come from, but suddenly she wasn’t frightened. “You were jealous of Leah. So jealous, you wanted to kill her, and you’ve convinced yourself it’s my fault.”
If she didn’t know firsthand how malleable the human mind was, Evie would never have believed it was possible. Now, as she watched the expression on Casey’s face, she knew it was true. She was so disturbed, her mind was so twisted, she was completely convinced of her own lies.
“Or did Xander do it? How did you bribe him, Casey?” Evie watched the fear in Casey’s eyes when she mentioned Xander. “What about Tamsyn? Did you kill her, too?” As Casey’s eyes flickered, Evie took a shot in the dark. “Or was that Xander, too? Picking off the unloved, the unnoticed, thinking he’d get away with it . . . Aren’t you worried he’ll take you, too?”
“These are lies.” Casey tried to compose herself, but her voice gave her away, each word pitched higher than the previous one. “You’re a liar.”
“You got Xander to attack me.” Evie stared at Casey. “Where’s Angel? Where’s my daughter?”
She’d pushed Casey too far. Screaming, Casey ran at her, the knife raised. Suddenly, Evie was frozen, riveted to the floor, seconds from death when Jack burst in through the open door. In two strides he reached Casey, brought her crashing to the floor.
“Evie, are you all right?”
But Evie was screaming at Casey. “Why? Why did you take her?”
A horrible laugh came from Casey. “Stupid fucking bitch . . . You should have died, Jen. Why should you live? But you ruined it, like you ruin everything. Poor little Jen, always the victim . . . ,” she mocked as Jack pulled her to her feet, wrenched the knife from her hand, and threw it out of reach.
“Can you call Abbie?” Evie’s voice was shaking, her body trembling, as she watched him twist one of Casey’s arms firmly behind her back.
“I already have. In fact, that’s probably her right now.” There was the sound of cars pulling up outside.
Evie was shaking. “Tell her you’ve found Casey Danning.”
CASEY
Nothing is ever by chance. When you came back, the future had shifted. But I’d known it would. My bones held the knowledge of what no one else would ever know, secrets to take to my watery grave, and even when my flesh rotted away and left those secrets exposed on the seabed, no one would ever tell my story. The only person who can do that is you.
It’s in your bones, too.
I remember you at school, the essence of an unfair universe, because you had it all—grades, looks, friends, clothes, talent, a career mapped out. I heard you tell one of your friends you were going to work in television—as if you had no doubt—but for girls like you, there was only certainty.
You didn’t know who I was; I was beyond the dimmest kind of recognition. I was someone you’d seen around. One of the invisible, who blended into the background of other people’s lives. They’re the most dangerous. Did you know that? Always hovering, close by, but you never see them.
Your life was full of promise. Not mine, though. Promise implies the prospect of a positive, exciting future. It wasn’t everyone’s right, though. How could it be? I knew the universe was fucked up when it contrived to give my cheating father a roof over his head when a whole family of innocent refugees had nothing. The suffering of the innocent, of the millions, for the security of the few.
But nothing in life is fair. There is no justice, only a construct manipulated by people with letters after their names. The rest of us make it up, under the guise of so-called morality, the most meaningless word, as subjective and malleable as we want it to be.
Human beings are good at that, though. Twisting words to mean what they want, dressing up unpalatable truths so that they are something more wholesome. What happened to honesty? Or is it like justice, which depends on where you look at it from? One man’s truth is another man’s lie, just as one man’s victory is another man’s failure. Think about it. A killer succeeds; their victim dies. A court case is won; a murderer walks free. That’s justice for you.
You were the brightest summer day, with cornfield hair and eyes the color of cloudless skies; while I was the deepest, blackest night. That was before, of course. Before your summer turned to autumn overnight, making you a dark, tormented shadow of yourself. Before ghosts sucked the happiness out of you, your prettiness, your laughter, even your friends devoured by guilt. Oh, you knew who I was by then. Your guilt and misery and ugliness were a just punishment . . . or so it seemed at the time. They weren’t, though. Not if you knew what I’d gone through. Not when, much later, you managed to shake the shadows off and be so happy.
It isn’t right. And I’ve waited, always wanting to believe the moment would come when our paths would cross again. It seemed inevitable that the past would be redressed, injustice rectified. A matter of balance, which at last would make sense of it all.
They’re fleeting, those moments. Easily missed, like that one a few years ago. You didn’t see me, did you? I was ready to seize it, but you were too busy talking to the man you were with. A few seconds either way would have changed the course of the future for both of us. I glanced away, and when I looked back, you’d gone. I knew then that it wasn’t the right time. There was so much more that fate had in store for you.
You are the last person in the world to deserve happiness, though you’re probably one of those people who think it’s your right. How can you, of all people, believe that? When you alone are responsible for so much misery. When there are innocent, tortured souls in the world. What right have you not to join them?
I came here to hide from a world that judged so harshly, cruelly. I thought this place had saved me. A year ago, when I arrived, I was dying, but you don’t know how it feels to drown in blackness. To exist in a place where there’s no sunrise, just a perpetual night filled with hatred and jeering voices. You don’t know what it’s like to fight each day for every breath, when it would be so much easier not to. Seeing you now brings it all back, hypodermic sharp. You were too fragile, even in your newfound happiness, to put yourself through what haunts me every day.
There’s no love—not for people like me. Not everyone is loved, but you don’t know that, do you? But in the long run, this makes it easier, because from the outset, when you know it isn’t a caring world, there is no harsh awakening to reality.
The police weren’t interested in what you’d done. Didn’t look past your pretty hair and your tears. Nobody could. Even you didn’t know you’d killed my family. You didn’t see the rift you’d caused, which became a chasm, one into which each of us fell, spinning deeper and deeper until we were gone. You fooled everyone. In a world that favors beauty, each and every one of them was taken in.
Not me, though. My razor-sharp eyes saw straight through you. That’s why I’ve kept breathing. There was a moment out in the future, spiraling toward us, when the truth would be exposed and everyone would know.
Rick hadn’t needed to teach me to surf. Or to instruct me about swell and rips and storm surges. The universe brings us what we need. The day I stood on the beach as the waves powered in, the rain lashing the shore, I saw the giveaway signs of the rip.
It had always been there when I needed it. The knowledge that I could disappear for good. I was calm, resolute, ready to die if it was my time, and I threw myself at the mercy of the elements. It was their choice whether I lived or not. The prospect of death didn’t frighten me. After years of pain, I envisaged uncomfortable minutes in cold water as it filled my lungs, stopped my breathing. Minutes that, after a lifetime of hurting, would seem like nothing. Then blessed eternal release.
As I waded out, I didn’t falter. The storm had given the rip a force I hadn’t felt before, and that sent a strange euphoria coursing through me as it swept me out to sea. It was the ride of my life, one that there was no turning back from, as I was lost among the might of the waves.
It’s life’s greatest certainty—death. Our strongest instinct is to keep it at bay, and it takes inhuman strength—or maybe desperation—to invite it in. I’d known today would come. Counted down as the blackness grew more dense, more suffocating. No one would miss me. In a matter of minutes, Casey Danning would be gone forever.
I was ready. I let my board go. Felt myself choking on the seawater, then heard the sudden quiet as I submerged myself, felt the current dragging me down, panic building as my lungs wanted to explode. My last thoughts were about how long it would take to stop breathing, how long until I drowned.
* * *
Does the manner of your death define your arrival in the next life? I hadn’t expected to come round on a small sandy beach, blinded by sunlight. Was this death? Thrown up on a shoreline? The most gentle rebirth into whatever came next?
I ached as I tried to move. Flashes of the storm came back to me: the height of the waves, my surfboard blown away, as if made of paper. Disappointed all of a sudden, because after a life in which I’d achieved nothing, in death, I’d failed, too.
As I lay there, I waited for the darkness to return, but I could feel only the sun warm on my skin. For the first time I could remember, I felt peaceful. The universe had granted me a second chance: it must believe I was worth something.
Above the beach, I glimpsed a single white-painted house and the brilliant, hopeful beginning that follows the darkest, most bitter end.
“You okay?” The voice startled me. “You must be crazy to have been out there. You could have killed yourself.”
After dragging myself up so that I was leaning on my elbows, I saw a guy in a wet suit.
“I’m Rick.”
“Hi.” I stared at him, at his friendly eyes, as I realized I’d been granted a fresh start. “I’m Charlotte.”
The easiest place to hide—behind a name.
I saw it as repayent of a karmic debt. After betraying me and moving with her parents to California, Charlotte Harrison had owed me. And I was only borrowing her name.
“Whatever happened to you, Charlotte?” Rick sounded bemused.
“A narrow escape,” I told him. “In more ways than you’ll ever know.”
As he helped me climb the rocks, then led me along the path toward his yard, suddenly I knew there was a reason I’d been spared. One I could see, one that was crystal clear. In the bright sunlight after the violent storm, everything was falling into place.
I’d thought it was my time. I could see that from the way Rick ran me a bath, then, after cooking breakfast, told me to stay as long as I wanted to. The darkness was nowhere to be seen. It had been laid to rest with Casey Danning.
Later that day, I sat in the yard, looking out across the bay. What a difference a day could make. How much life could change. It didn’t matter how much you try to control things. Sometimes the universe has its own ideas.
You thought you were hidden, didn’t you? But no one can hide forever, can they, Jen? When I saw you a few weeks ago, I knew that finally it had come. The moment our eyes would meet. When you would remember what you’d done. The first time in all these years you actually saw me.
People, cats, children—everyone dies. Does it matter when? You were lucky, weren’t you? You weren’t supposed to be found. Xander laughed when he heard you’d been taken to the hospital. You weren’t supposed to survive his attack. Some things just are, like Einstein’s laws or Newton’s or the regularity of the tides or the predetermined length of a life span. Wrongs must be put right. Karmic debts repaid. Balance reestablished.
An eye for an eye, a life for a life.