The Girl Who Never Came Back (6 page)

"Still," Eve continued, "a year -"

"Is a very long time," Charlotte said, with a hint of bitterness in her voice, "but the way I see it is that if I'm okay with not knowing, then no good can come of raking up the past. And ultimately it's
my
life, so I figure I'm old enough and stubborn enough to make my own decisions."

"But if something traumatic happened to you -"

"Then it's a good job I don't remember it, huh?" Charlotte replied. "I mean, seriously, isn't that a
great
thing? Shouldn't I be fucking over the moon that my subconscious mind, or whatever, has managed to bury it away? I mean, the whole point of fucking therapy is to help you get over and deal with shit, and I've managed that all by myself. I should be fucking commended and told I'm a genius, not pushed to go and see some quack doctor who might be able to fuck my head up for me." She paused for a moment as she realized that she was probably allowing herself to get too worked up. "I'm fine as I am. I'm not perfect, but I'm not nearly as fucked up as the rest of my family. I guess I just don't have their insatiable desire to go ripping things apart, looking for cracks."

"You must have been affected in some way," Eve replied.

"Nope," Charlotte said, starting to feel as if she needed a cigarette. She decided to hold back, but she knew the siren call would be too strong eventually. "I guess I'm lucky," she added. "I was able to put it all in the past and focus on the future."

"And you were eight years old when it happened?" Eve asked. "Just like Sophie?"

Charlotte nodded.

"And it happened in the exact same place? And in the same way? Down by the river at the bottom of the garden?"

"I guess so," Charlotte replied, immediately tensing as she realized that her own personal explanation, that it was all a coincidence, probably wouldn't wash with everyone. She knew, deep down, that she was probably just trying to deflect questions, but at the same time, she couldn't see how there could possibly be a link. The last thing she wanted was for Sophie's disappearance to be used as an excuse to dig into her own troubles.

"We need to consider every possibility," Eve said after a moment. "Even if -"

"Like what?" Charlotte asked. "That whatever happened to me, has happened to Sophie? In the exact same way? Are you serious? How the fuck would that even work? Whatever happened to me, it was a once in a lifetime, one in a million kind of deal, and there's no way lightning could strike twice. When we find out where Sophie is, which
will
happen, you'll all see that any similarities are just totally superficial."

"You seem a little defensive."

"Of course I'm fucking defensive," Charlotte replied, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She was damn well not going to bother fighting her nicotine craving, not on a day that so far had delivered nothing but a whole load of trouble. "You want one?"

Eve shook her head.

After lighting up, Charlotte took a long drag and held the smoke in her mouth before exhaling slowly. "It's a disgusting habit," she said after a moment, "but it helps." She paused. "Whatever happened to me when I went missing," she continued eventually, "it didn't hurt, and it didn't leave scars, and I've learned to live with it, so..." She took another drag on her cigarette, her eyes fixed on the glistening water of the river a couple of hundred meters away. "It's got nothing to do with whatever's happened to Sophie."

"And what do you think
has
happened to Sophie?" Eve asked.

Charlotte paused. "An accident," she said finally. "The kid's too smart to just go wandering off by herself, and all that talk of her getting distracted is bullshit." She took a deep breath. "She's hurt. Maybe not badly, but enough so that she can't get back home. Maybe she's unconscious, or maybe she just got lost and she's wandering through some field somewhere. My sister was right, though. You need to be checking the river. She might have fallen into the water, in which case she could have been swept downstream."

"There's also that cave," Eve pointed out.

Charlotte shook her head. "There's nothing in there," she said quickly.

"We still need to take a look."

"It's barely even a cave," Charlotte replied, trying not to sound too annoyed. "It doesn't go very far back, and all you'll find is some wet rocks and a damp smell. Everyone acts like it's some kind of fucking mystical place, but it's nothing of the sort. It's just a dank little place with no light and a bunch of wet rocks, and a river dribbling out of a hole."

"An eight-year-old girl isn't very big in the grand scheme of things," Eve pointed out. "There are plenty of place she could be. We have to search each and every one of them, including the cave."

"If you want to waste your time," Charlotte replied, "that's your own business, but there's no way Sophie'd go in there. She's too timid and careful." She paused. "You don't know her. I
do
. She's quiet and careful. You've seen what my sister's like. She's the most attentive, coddling mother in the world, and she's made damn sure that Sophie's afraid of her own shadow. It's a miracle she was brave enough to go down to the river by herself, let alone go out of sight for even a fraction of a second. She's great kid, but she's timid as hell."

"Were you the same?" Eve asked. "When you disappeared, I mean. Were you timid and cautious?"

Charlotte paused again, finding the question a little personal. "I was a bit of both back then," she replied eventually, not wanting to arouse suspicion. "I had my moments." Stubbing the cigarette out against the side of the house, she tossed the butt to the ground. She wanted to say that Sophie would be okay, to express some kind of meaningless platitude that might somehow make them both feel better for a few minutes, but she couldn't quite bring herself to get the words out. Hearing the sound of Ruth sobbing in the kitchen, she decided that she should probably go back inside and see if she could help. She hated it when her sister became emotional, but she realized that this time there was probably some decent context behind the tears and tetchiness.

"Sorry," she said to Eve, "I think I'm needed. Time to go and be a good sister for once."

"Sure," Eve replied, "but if you think of anything that might help, you'll let me know, won't you? Even if it seems insignificant, it could help in some way."

Charlotte nodded cautiously.

"I really think we'll find her," Eve continued. "I know the media's always full of terrible stories about young children who go missing, but those are just the cases that end badly. You wouldn't believe how many other kids disappear for a few hours and then turn up right as rain, and it never gets reported." She paused. "We're doing everything we can."

"I'm sure she'll turn up soon," Charlotte replied. "And, hell, if she doesn't, I guess she might come back in a year, right? Just like I did?" Realizing that she'd perhaps gone a little too far, she smiled awkwardly before turning and heading into the house, where everyone seemed paralyzed with fear and the ghost of Sophie's absence hung in the air like a fine morning mist.

Twenty years ago

Charlotte didn't know why, but she was starting to get short of breath. Beyond the pain and the fear, it was as if her chest was getting smaller and smaller, and she was taking in big gulps of air in an attempt to stop feeling as if she was suffocating.

Wedged between two rocks, she felt too weak to call out for help. At the same time, she was starting to worry that her mother wasn't going to come and find her at all. Summoning up the very last of her strength, she tried to ease herself up, ignoring the sensation of her snapped angle dangling from the bottom of her leg, held on by little more than a section of skin and meat.

"Mummy," she whispered, hoping that maybe if screaming didn't help, that something else might attract her mother's attention.

Slowly, she inched forward. She had no idea which way to go, but she figured her best bet was to keep going up. Reaching out, she tried to get some kind of grip on the cold, wet rocks. It was difficult, but eventually she felt confident enough to try pulling herself up. No matter how weak she felt and how much pain was coursing through her body, she knew she had no choice but to keep trying.

"Mummy?" she called out, before realizing that maybe someone else could help. "Ruth!" she shouted, hoping against hope that her older sister might hear. "Ruth! Help me!"

She continued with her desperate climb. No-one called back to her answer her cries for help. The only sound in the cave, apart from her hands scrabbling at the rocks, was a distant dripping sound and the faintest hint of running water, along with an occasional howl of wind. For several minutes, Charlotte continued to haul herself up the side of a nearby rock, until finally she was on level ground. She stayed perfectly still for a moment, trying to ignore the crippling cold water that had soaked through her dress.

Deciding that she must be close to the exit of the cave by now, she dragged herself forward. She still felt breathless, but the sensation was no longer quite so bad and at least she didn't feel as if she was suffocating. She pulled herself across the rock, hoping that she might spot a hint of light up ahead, but there was nothing. She had no idea how far into the cave she'd fallen, but she kept telling herself that she'd be okay if she kept going up. All she had to do was -

Without warning, her right hand slipped on the rock, and in trying to steady herself, she turned and slipped, tumbling back down into the darkness. She slammed hard against another rock, bashing her broken ankle in the process, and then she rolled further down into the pitch black cave. Just as she was starting to wonder if she'd ever stop falling, she plunged headfirst into a freezing cold pool of water.

Today

By midnight, the area around the bottom of the garden and along the riverbank was crawling with police. Charlotte, Ruth and Tony took turns standing by the kitchen window, staring absently at the light display as men with torches search the undergrowth and a solitary police helicopter circled above, casting its spotlight down toward the nearby fields. In the distance, there was the occasional bark of a police dog, and a little further away there were the multi-colored lights of a diving team, searching the river.

"What's the temperature out there?" Ruth asked, her face devoid of any emotion at all as she sat at the kitchen table while a long-since-boiled cup of tea cooled in front of her.

Tony looked over at the thermometer on the wall. "Five," he muttered after a moment.

"She wasn't wearing a jacket," Ruth said, her voice steady and flat, her reddened eyes staring down at the table. "She'll be cold. She..." Pausing, she took a deep breath. "If she's outside, she'll be so cold."

"She's probably holed up somewhere warm," Charlotte muttered, taking the pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and laying it on the table.

"You can't smoke in here," Ruth said suddenly.

"I'm not going to smoke in here," Charlotte snapped back at her.

Ruth's face twitched for a moment, as if she was struggling to hold back a blast of anger.

"Twenty-four hours," Tony said, staring out the window. "That's what they said earlier. The first twenty-four hours are crucial. There's a very good chance -"

"There's a very good chance she won't be back in twenty-four hours," Ruth replied, interrupting him. "And then what?"

"They're not going to stop looking," her husband pointed out.

"They spent weeks searching for me," Charlotte added.

Ruth turned to her.

"It's true," Charlotte continued. "Mum told me. They combed the entire area with fucking millimeter precision, looking for even the slightest clue."

"But they
didn't
find you, did they?" Ruth replied coldly. "You found yourself, a year later. Or at least that's what you've always told people."

"Not this again," Charlotte sighed. "You know, the -"

"Are you sure you don't remember what happened to you during that year?" Ruth continued, ignoring her sister's pained protests. "I mean, are you
really
sure? Because if something's holding you back, maybe vanity or embarrassment or shame, now's the time to put other people first and come clean, Charlotte. If you know anything that might explain what's happened to my daughter -"

"I don't!" Charlotte said, raising her voice a little before realizing that she needed to stay calm. "I don't remember anything."

"Because you're stubborn," Ruth snapped back at her.

"This isn't about me," Charlotte replied, grabbing a cigarette from the pack and heading to the back door. "This is about Sophie. She's going to be back soon. I can feel it in my gut." She was lying, but she figured it was better than admitting that she had a bad feeling about things. "Don't lose track of the fact that you need to focus on -"

"Don't tell me what to focus on," Ruth replied. "You're not a mother, Charlotte, and you never will be. You don't have a fucking clue what this is like." She paused. "You're nothing but a liar."

"What the hell have I lied about?" Charlotte asked.

"You remember where you were," Ruth continued. "Maybe other people believe your bullshit story about amnesia, but you remember. I can see it in your eyes."

Smiling sadly, Charlotte turned and headed out onto the porch, where she immediately lit the cigarette before stepping down onto the grass and starting to make her way across the lawn. She passed the deckchairs, which were still laid out from the afternoon, and eventually she made her way all the way down to the end of the garden, which overlooked the tow-path running alongside the river. All she wanted was to get away from the house, away from her sister's baseless accusations.

"Stop!" a voice shouted from the darkness.

Stopping in her tracks, Charlotte shielded her eyes as a torch swung toward her.

"I'm Charlotte Abernathy!" she called out after a moment. "I just came down to see if there's any news!"

The torch was lowered, and a dark figure stepped closer, eventually revealed to be the male officer from earlier.

"There's nothing you can do down here," he said, looking a little uncomfortable. "This is a potential crime scene, so I'm going to have to ask you to go up to the house and stay there while we continue our investigation."

"Crime scene?" Charlotte replied, shocked by the implication. "You're not -"

"We're covering all bases," the officer said firmly. "I'm sure you'll understand that we can't rule anything out at this stage. We should have a better idea of what we're dealing with in the morning, so if you'll please return to the house, I need to get back to work. We've decided to extent the operation through the night, in recognition of the urgency of the case, so we'll be here for the foreseeable future, at least until we find Sophie."

"Sure," Charlotte muttered, taking a drag on her cigarette before turning and starting the walk back toward the house. After a few paces, she glanced over her shoulder and saw that the torch was still aimed straight at her, as if the police officer was watching her leave. She knew she was probably just being a little paranoid, but Charlotte couldn't stop worrying that in some way, her past made her a natural target for suspicion. As she reached the back door, she turned and looked out at the darkened countryside. The thought of Sophie being out there, lost and alone or maybe even worse, was too much to deal with, but she'd never been the kind of person to let her emotions get on top of her. All she could do was hope that wherever she was, Sophie was okay.

She had to be.