Mitzi wants to walk away but for some reason she can’t. Her feet are so heavy she can’t move them.
Myrddin lets her hand drop. His eyes narrow and those soft lips of his speak slow and persuasive words. ‘You must return the shadow of knowledge. Give back the light of tomorrow or else you will cry endless tears.’
‘Lieutenant!’ The voice is Owain’s.
She turns her upper body to find him.
‘Good morning.’ He walks briskly towards her. ‘How are you today?’
Her feet free up and she stumbles forward. ‘I’m, er… I just met Merv, here—’ She turns back to gesture to the old man.
Only he’s gone.
‘Are you all right?’ Owain takes her arm and steadies her. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
118
Ruth Everett wakes with what feels like the mother of all hangovers. First comes the agonizing pain in her head. Then a whoosh of sickness, followed by the realization she is fully dressed and lying on the kitchen floor staring up at the ceiling.
But the worst is yet to come.
The moment when she remembers what happened.
The nice woman who had broken down outside her house…
…had attacked her.
She’d let her use a landline to call the vehicle rental company and while they waited for the breakdown truck, she’d started to make some coffee. She’d been stood at the window getting mugs out of the dishwasher when the woman stuck something sharp in her neck. That sneaky bitch had spiked her, slapped a hand over her mouth and then forced her to the floor where she passed out.
Ruth gets to her feet. Struggles to the sink to pour some water. She pictures what’s she’s about to find. Her purse will have been emptied of cash and credit cards. No doubt all her jewellery will be gone. Maybe even the car off the drive.
The twins.
She hadn’t thought of them at first because she was so messed up by the drugs, but she does now.
‘Jade! Amber!’
Her throat hurts as she shouts. ‘Girls — where are you?’
They were on the patio when the woman rolled up. Maybe they’ve run to neighbours for help. She rushes to the hall. Looks in the lounge and TV room. There’s no sign of a disturbance. No fight. Nothing stolen.
‘Girls — you upstairs?’ She feels dizzy as she hauls herself up the treads.
In the master bedroom, Jack’s books are still piled high on the table next to his side of the bed, a page marker stuck a third of a way through a novel he never got to finish. Bracelets and rings shine out from a crystal jewellery holder in the middle of her dressing table. ‘Oh my God.’ She sinks on to the bed as reality hits her.
A note lies on the quilt.
It has a simple seven-word message.
‘CALL THE COPS AND THE KIDS DIE.’
119
Sir Owain guides Mitzi to a teak garden bench on a paved pathway a few yards from where he found her. ‘Sit a minute, then I’ll walk you inside.’
‘I’m fine. And I’m not a dog that needs to be walked.’ She looks out over the empty lawn. ‘Who was that old guy and where the hell did he go?’
‘It’s complicated.’
‘I bet it is.’ Her cell phone rings. ‘You mind if I take this?’
‘Please.’ He steps away to give her privacy.
Caller display says it’s her sister. Probably unable to sleep and needing to rant about Jack and his wandering hands. ‘Hey Ruthy, I’m kinda busy right now — can I call you back?’
There’s a tense silence before she answers. ‘Mitzi, it’s the girls.’
She picks up the fear. ‘What’s the girls?’
‘They’re gone. They’ve been taken from the house.’
‘I don’t understand. What do you mean?’ She thinks of Alfie. Maybe he’s picked them up without permission.
‘I let this woman in…’ Ruth starts to choke. ‘She said her car had broken down — and while we waited for the rescue truck she stuck something in my neck.’ She’s almost unable to speak now. ‘I just came round and found a note. It says if I call the cops the kids will die.’
Mitzi’s heartbeat goes off the scale. ‘Have you called them?’ She has to remind herself to stay calm and act professionally. ‘Who’d you call, Ruth?’
‘Just you.’ She breaks down now. ‘Just you, that’s all.’
‘Okay.’ Mitzi struggles to breathe and hears herself saying, ‘Do nothing. Lock the doors, sit tight and let me get back to you.’ She looks up at Gwyn. He’s stood a few yards away, his back to her, his eyes fixed on one of the castle towers.
Could he have done this? A follow-through on the warnings he’d given her?
She pockets the phone and charges at him. Hits him square in the back. The blow knocks Owain forward but not down.
He staggers and turns to see her wide-eyed with rage.
‘You motherfucking son-of-a-bitch. You think you can hurt my fucking kids?’ She throws a raw right-hander.
He plucks it out of the air like he is catching a baseball tossed by a toddler.
Mitzi boots out at his legs. A crippling kick, hard enough to shatter a shin bone.
He leans effortlessly away from it. Gently twists her hand so the wrist and elbow lock and she is forced face down onto the grass.
Mitzi knows the manoeuvre well enough. If she shifts an inch her wrist will break.
He bends close to her face. ‘I’ve done nothing to your children. Do you understand me?’
She doesn’t answer.
His grip stays tight and his voice calm. ‘Lieutenant, do you understand what I am saying?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay.’ He lets go of her arm and helps her to her feet. ‘I’m very sorry I had to do that. Now please tell me what has happened.’
120
It’s a shack of a place. Way off the beaten track. Made from cheap clapboard and is little more than a big shed divided into a living room and kitchen, two bedrooms and a bathroom.
Just perfect for their needs.
‘Kidnapping sure is thirsty work,’ says Chris as he brings in a six-pack from the RV. ‘You want a beer?’
The twins are laid out on the floor, back to back. Tess is sat opposite them in a cheap chair, with a handgun on her lap. ‘Yeah, but get me a glass. I don’t like drinkin’ straight from the bottle.’
Things had pretty much gone to plan.
She’d stuck Ruth Everett with a sedative then called Chris, who’d been waiting in woods half a mile away. Once he’d gotten himself in position in the house she’d shouted the girls in from the patio, saying their aunt was sick. Chris had spiked them as easy as popping sausages on a BBQ.
Together they bundled them into the RV and headed out to where they’re now having a celebratory beer.
Chris takes a tumbler from a cupboard, rubs a dishtowel in it to get rid of dust and froths out the Bud for the love of his life.
Tess gets on her knees, puts her fingers across the wrists of the girls and checks their pulses. Too much of the sedative and they die. Too little and they’ll be a handful.
Seems from the throbbing vein beneath her fingers that she dosed them just right.
She checks their restraints again. Chris handcuffed and bound them, sealed their yaps with Duck tape and for good measure stuck loose, black hoods over their heads.
Everything’s just tickety-boo.
She sits back down and takes the glass from him. ‘Thanks.’ Tess enjoys a long drink before putting it on the floor.