The Paradise Trees (30 page)

Frank parked opposite the pub and they jogged up Doug’s road, peering at the house numbers to find the right one. Alicia could feel her heart thumping in her chest. She grabbed
Frank’s arm. There it was, number nine, right in the middle. A tall house, and it had been split into three flats, one on each floor. The whole place was in darkness. Was he asleep? Or away
somewhere? Was Jenny with him?

Alicia realised in dismay that Doug’s car was nowhere to be seen. Where would he be at this time on a Saturday evening after working all day? The pub was only five hundred yards away and
he wouldn’t take the car there anyway. Was he out visiting someone? Or had he taken Jen away to some other place? Not speaking, she and Frank crept up to the house, walking on the narrow
strip of grass to prevent their feet crunching on the gravel.

Frank pushed the front door. Rather to Alicia’s surprise it opened, revealing a dim communal staircase. She followed on up six steps and arrived at the front door of the ground floor flat.
Carson, the nameplate above the doorbell informed her. Not Doug’s flat. She continued up the stairs, trying to ignore the dryness in her mouth.

‘I’m not sure we should be doing this,’ muttered Frank.

Alicia gripped his hand. ‘The police’ll be here any minute. We won’t put the light on. Quick!’

The moon was sending ghostly shafts of silver through the stairway windows, providing just enough light to see by. A pewter umbrella stand and a large wooden giraffe flanked the doorway on the
first floor. Not Doug’s flat again. So the top one was his, just one floor up now. There it was, a large, old-fashioned door with frosted glass panels; yellow, red and green in alternating
squares of colour.

Alicia put her ear to the door and listened. Silence. Frank indicated the doorbell, looking at her with raised eyebrows. She rang the doorbell loud and long.

Silence again. But maybe he was in bed, asleep. Again she leaned on the bell, again it shrilled out in the silence. Two seconds, three, four, five. Yet more silence.

‘He’s not here,’ she whispered. Where was he? And where was Jenny?

‘Or he’s not answering,’ said Frank. He tried the door, but it was locked.

Alicia began to shiver. Jenny might be in there. Should they hammer on the door? She raised clenched fists to her mouth, staring at the door. Footsteps and voices on the ground floor spurred her
into action. The police had arrived. Alicia turned and ran down to the middle floor, meeting Chief Inspector Wilson on the way up with two policemen.

‘He’s not here,’ she said, standing back to let the Chief Inspector’s bulky frame charge past.

‘And neither should you be,’ he said, battering on the door of Doug’s flat. ‘Police! Open the door!’

‘He’s not here,’ said Alicia again.

The Inspector looked at her grimly. ‘We’ll get in, but I want you both to stay put here until we’re certain it’s safe,’ he said, nodding to one of his colleagues,
who stepped forward with a metal device which he slammed against the lock. The wooden frame cracked and the door swung open. Alicia watched as Chief Inspector Wilson disappeared inside the flat,
his men following on. Her heart was really thumping now, it was as if someone was wielding a hammer right inside her chest, the blows reverberating round her ribcage, and there was a rushing noise
in her ears too. She felt horribly dizzy.

‘No-one,’ said the Chief Inspector from the top end of the hallway. ‘Come in, Mrs Bryson, and see if you notice anything that would tell us if Jenny’s been
here.’

The hallway was painted a rather dingy beige colour; old, flaky beige paint, and Alicia felt a quick jolt of surprise. This didn’t seem at all like the kind of place immaculate Doug would
have chosen to live. It was a rather sinister indication of how little they really knew him. The living room was dingy too, with heavy dark red velvet curtains drawn across the window, shutting the
night out. One of the policemen clicked the overhead light on and Alicia and Frank moved into the room. Two threadbare armchairs stood left and right of the disused fireplace and a sofa that
didn’t match them was up against the opposite wall. A door at the far end probably led into the kitchen.

‘Alicia.’

Frank was right beside her, holding her close to him with one hand while the other pointed. She turned her head, and there in the corner, beside the sofa, she saw a pathetic little pile of
clothes. Jenny’s clothes. All of them. Blue shorts, yellow t-shirt, socks, knickers. Minnie Mouse watch. New summer sandals. Every single thing Jenny had been wearing that morning was lying
there.

‘Boss!’ One of the policemen was in the hallway, looking into another room. Alicia wrenched herself away from Frank and ran to the bathroom doorway. She found herself staring at an
ancient bathtub, partially filled with clouded, oily water.

‘Okay, I want everyone out of here right now, please,’ ordered the Chief Inspector. ‘This flat is a crime scene.’

He pushed Alicia back out to the stairwell, where she clutched at Frank with both hands. The buzzing in her ears was so loud she could barely hear Chief Inspector Wilson on his radio, organising
backup, more search parties, road blocks. Frank held her, but she could feel his heart beating wildly too. Doug Patton had Jenny. He had undressed her. And what else? She couldn’t bear to
think. It was the worst, the absolute worst thing she had imagined since Jenny went missing. A pervert. A paedophile. Doug was Oberon. This was a man she had trusted, and now such betrayal. The
pain was excruciating, for a moment she literally couldn’t breathe.

The Chief Inspector joined them on the landing. ‘There’s no sign of a struggle,’ he said. ‘Try not to think the worst before we know what went on here. We’ll start
an immediate search through the whole village, barns, outhouses, the lot. Mrs Bryson, if he’s here we’ll find him.’

‘It might be too late,’ she whispered, knowing there was nothing anyone could say to this. It might be too late. Jenny, beautiful Jenny, what had Doug done to her? And why? Why had
he picked out Jenny, Jenny who loved life and animals and playing in the woods, why had he...

‘The woods!’ she said suddenly. ‘The special place in the woods, where they met and played... ’

The Chief Inspector stared at her for a split second before marching to the stairs. ‘Come on, we’re going.’ He spoke into his radio as he went, reporting the new details.
‘The Super’s meeting us there.’

They ran down, Frank almost yanking Alicia off her feet and the Chief Inspector thundering ahead at a speed that belied his size. Two police cars were parked in the front drive, and Frank pushed
Alicia into the back seat of the first one and got in after her.

‘We can go up through the woods from the bottom of Alicia’s garden,’ he said to the Inspector. ‘It’s nearer the clearing than going up from the back
road.’

The Inspector looked at him, his face grim. ‘You know it too, then?’ he said, nodding when Frank confirmed this.

The brakes squealed as they rounded the corner by the hotel. Alicia winced. She should have phoned Paul long ago. He could have been trying to reach her for ages, she had left her mobile on the
kitchen table.

‘I should phone Paul,’ she said to Frank. ‘Have you got your phone? He’s at the King’s Hotel in York.’

Frank fumbled with his phone, looking for the hotel’s website. His voice shook when he spoke but the connection was quickly made.

‘It’s ringing in his room,’ he said, handing the phone to Alicia.

‘Yes?’ Paul’s voice sounded sleepy. Alicia felt as if she’d been slapped hard in the face.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, but you might remember I told you our daughter is missing,’ she hissed, suddenly furious, more furious than she had ever been in her
life before, as if being angry with Paul was going to help Jenny. She knew that Doug was the person who deserved her rage, but for the moment it was easier to let it out on Paul.

‘Well, we know now that she’s been abducted by a psychopath and they’re searching the woods again to see if they can find her alive. But don’t bother yourself about it,
I’ll phone you again in the morning when you’ve had your sleep and tell you if you’ll need a black tie to come and see her next time.’ She broke the connection.

‘That told him,’ said the Chief Inspector, and Alicia nodded grimly.

‘He’s never been much of a father,’ she said, and tears poured down her cheeks.

Another police car was parked in the lane when they arrived there, and the waiting Superintendent spoke briefly to his colleagues before turning back to Frank and Alicia.

‘Doctor, you’re with us,’ he said, striding up the back garden. ‘Mrs Bryson, I’d like you to wait here.’

‘No!’ she cried. ‘I must... ’

‘Wait at the bottom of the garden,’ said Frank firmly. ‘It’s better you don’t come up, Alicia. If Jenny’s there I promise I’ll take care of her until we
can bring her down to you.’

‘No,’ said Alicia again. She knew there was no way she could simply stand and watch while the men went off to look for her Jenny. If there was the slightest chance that Doug had Jen
up in the woods she wanted to be right there to help her daughter at the very first opportunity.

The Superintendent looked at her and she could see frustration and understanding mingling on his face.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘You can come, but if Patton is there with her I want you to promise you’ll stay back until I call you on. You do exactly as I say. Clear?’

‘Okay, clear,’ said Alicia, relief flooding through her. ‘Thank you.’

She followed the five policemen up the woodland path, treading where they were treading, making as little noise as she could. Frank was up at the head of the procession, showing the way, and a
young policewoman had appeared and walked behind Alicia. Chief Inspector Wilson and one of the others were carrying torches, which they shone on the ground before them, but it was still too dark to
see properly. She knew they didn’t want Doug – if he was here – to get wind of their arrival.

What would she do if Jenny was dead up there? Alicia felt sick with fear at the thought. Jen was only eight years old. Would she cope without her? Would Margaret? The thought was appalling. She
would give up everything, she would do anything and go anywhere at all, if she could have Jenny back unharmed. How unlikely that seemed right now. Christ, how she wanted her old life back.

The woods were dark but not cold, and somehow not as sinister as she’d have thought. It felt as if the trees and bushes were merely waiting for dawn and sunshine and the warmth of another
day.

Frank and the first policeman stopped to confer in a low mutter that Alicia couldn’t understand, and she strained her ears to hear something from the direction of the clearing. They were
only about halfway there, walking quietly like this was maddeningly slow. Frank pointed out the way they should take, and the policeman stood back to let him go first before the procession started
off again. They went on in silence for another twenty yards or so before the Inspector’s large shape appeared beside her.

‘Wait here, Mrs Bryson,’ he murmured. ‘We’ll call you as soon as we’re able. Marjorie’ll stay with you.’

Alicia stopped immediately. This was no time to argue. She watched as they disappeared into the darkness, six men. Moving carefully, not wanting to disturb Doug if he was there, in case there
was any chance of getting Jenny back alive. The young policewoman stood beside Alicia with a large torch, sharing the wait.

‘She’s my only child,’ whispered Alicia, and the younger woman nodded, making no attempt to offer consolation or false hope.

After a moment there was no sound from the men. Alicia stood motionless, staring into the darkness. In a few short minutes she might know what had happened to Jenny. What would the police do if
Jen was dead? Lying in a heap in the woods where she had once played so happily. Didn’t they have to leave bodies where they were found, and take measurements and photos and footprints? When
would they let her go and see her dead daughter? Tonight? Tomorrow? Alicia raised clenched fists to her mouth, and the policewoman put a hand on her arm.

‘Steady now,’ she said. ‘Just keep it together, they won’t be much longer.’

And still silence in the woods.

The Stranger

He looked down at little Helen, lying there on her cloth of gold, her arms and legs spread to the heavens. Beautiful, a little star waiting for her lord and master to send her
off to Paradise. His own angel. But look, there were goose bumps all over the child’s body. She needed warmth, and what better way to give her that than to lie down beside her and take her in
his arms? He lowered himself to the ground, gathering little Helen to him with one hand and pulling the golden covering over them both with the other. There, that was better. And how delicious it
felt, holding her close like this in the holy place. Her head fitted snugly under his chin, and he could feel the movement of her chest as she breathed. She was still pretty much out of it, though
she had stopped making the keening sounds and her eyes were now open. He arched his body against her, then winced as something sharp on the ground beneath him jabbed into his side. Lovely as it
was, it had been a whole lot more comfortable on his bed at home. And lying with a child like this... it was sweet, but forbidden-sweet. Lying with big Helen tomorrow, on the other hand, would be
completely natural, she was larger, softer, much more comfortable to hold and squeeze. Just like his own darling Helen, in fact. And it was time to finish up here, he was too impatient now to play
more with little Helen, he wanted her to be where she belonged. Then he could go home and dream of his own two girls playing together. Riches indeed. How happy his darlings would be.

He scrambled to his feet again and bent to brush a few twigs from the golden robe. A moan came from little Helen’s mouth, and he looked at her critically. She was nearly ready. A few more
minutes and she’d be conscious enough to understand what he was going to do with her. He wanted to see the fear in her eyes fade away and be replaced by the silence and emptiness of eternity.
He reached into his pocket and fingered the cord.