The Truth About Celia Frost (25 page)

“Here,” he said, “you’re shivering.”

She snatched it from him and put it on, rolling up the sleeves, begrudgingly grateful for the warmth of his tent-sized top. But before she could even swing a futile punch at him, Frankie had
bound her ankles and wrists with thick gaffer tape, careful to wrap it over the fabric of the top and her socks; the last thing he wanted was for her to spill any of that blood.

“Now lie down and keep out of sight or I swear I’ll put you in the boot,” Frankie said to the trussed-up girl.

As the engine started she heard the click of the central locking and knew that all her exits were sealed. Celia lay there, helpless and exhausted, but her mind was in overdrive, conjuring up
images of Sol’s body on the forest floor, thinking of all the terrifying things that could possibly lie ahead of her. Frankie pressed the accelerator to the floor and the car screeched off
along the tarmac. He was anxious to deliver this parcel as quickly as possible and forget about this whole terrible business.

He tried to concentrate on following the directions to their destination but the muffled sobs coming from the back seat were eating into him. He tilted the rear-view mirror and looked at the
distraught girl; tears streamed down her face.

Frankie couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He needed to make himself feel better. “Listen, Celia, I didn’t want to have to get you this way. If you’d just cooperated, all this
wouldn’t have been necessary. Anyway, I know this looks bad but you shouldn’t worry, you’re not going to come to any harm. I’ve been told that you’re going back where
you belong.”

Celia tried to control her sobs so she could hear his words.

“Now, I’ve been thinking about it, and what if that means your real parents? Maybe they’ve been looking for you all these years. Maybe you’re going back to them. Hey,
wouldn’t that be great?” he said. He saw the confusion in Celia’s eyes.

He’s lying
, she thought. However, despite her doubts, Frankie had planted a seed of hope and, in the bleakness of that journey, she allowed it to grow.

The stress of listening to her sobs was now replaced by the unbearable weight of silent hope and Frankie was buckling under the tension. He turned on the radio. The mellow tones of the graveyard
shift DJ spoke to them. “
We’re approaching midnight on this beautiful moonlit evening and I have just the song to take us into tomorrow
.”

Dean Martin’s velvety voice filled the car with the joyous sound of “That’s Amore”.

“Hey, I love this one,” Frankie chirped up, as if he were a friendly taxi driver. “I bet Janice loves it too,” he added spontaneously, immediately smarting with
guilt.

Sol slowly lifted his lead-weight head off the ground. He groaned as he became conscious enough to register the splitting ache and the ground shifting beneath him. Cradling his
throbbing head, he felt the thick, sticky blood plastered to his hair. Sol couldn’t work out what had happened. He searched for his mobile. It was still in his pocket. The screen lit up the
darkness but there was no signal. He stumbled through the trees like a drunk feeling his way home. He made his way into the open and phoned Celia, but the number was dead.

“What’s going on?” he moaned to himself. He knew who to call in a crisis and as Abs answered, Sol could hear the din of the Bluebell pub in the background. Sol slurred out his
plea for help.

“Sit tight,” Abs responded. “We’re coming to get you.”

Sol had made it to the roadside as his brothers drove up. The car headlights illuminated him as they checked him over.

“Well, I don’t think you need stitches,” Yacob said, inspecting his head. “But you’re going to need some heavy-duty headache pills and an ice pack.”

“What happened?” Abs asked the groaning boy.

“I don’t know. I was looking for Celia in the woods. I heard something behind me and the next second it felt like my skull had been cracked open and I was out cold.”

“Did they rob you?” Yacob asked.

“No. Nothing was taken. I wasn’t touched. Why would someone do this?”

“Maybe it wasn’t ‘someone’. Maybe something just fell on you from one of the trees. Why were you looking here for Celia anyway?” Abs said.

“I saw her get on the bus. I thought she must be heading here but I didn’t see her and her phone is dead.”

“But why would she go to some woods? If she was on the bus, wouldn’t she have been heading for the city?” Yacob asked, puzzled.

Sol ignored the question. Even in his dazed state, he wanted to protect their sanctuary. “I know something’s wrong,” he slurred. “After she went back to her flat, she was
weird, really freaked out.”

“What are you rambling on about?” Yacob said. “Have you two had a lovers’ tiff? Maybe it was her who hit you on the head then.”

Abs high-fived Yacob, impressed by his joke. Then he said sagely, “Seriously, you should give her some space, instead of chasing after her. You’ve a lot to learn about girls, Sol.
She’s probably meeting a mate in town. She might stay out all night, try and get into some clubs, but she’ll come back in the morning and everything will be fine.”

“No. We should call the police,” Sol said.

At this, the brothers flashed a look of alarm at each other.

“No way! We don’t need them getting involved. Anyway, what would you tell them? Something hit you on the head in the woods and you’re worried about your girlfriend because she
got on a bus,” Yacob mocked. “What do you expect them to do about it apart from laugh at you, and maybe caution you for trespassing? And think of Mum. There’s no way you want her
to find out. It will worry her to think that her only good child is sneaking out at night to wander around some creepy forest.”

“Okay then,” Sol said reluctantly. “But I have to talk to Celia’s mum. I need to know what’s going on. I should tell her that I saw Celia getting on the bus.
She’ll be really worried about her.”

“You’re in no state to do anything apart from go home to bed,” Abs said.

“But she needs to know,” Sol whimpered.

“Then tell her in the morning. We need to sort you out. We’ll smuggle you into the house. I’ll just tell Emama that you were knackered and went straight to bed. Tomorrow
we’ll think of some story to explain that bump, and you should just keep your mouth shut,” Yacob advised.

“But what if she doesn’t come back?”

“Stop being such a drama queen. She’ll be back to kiss and make up.”

“I’ve told you already,” Sol said wearily, “we’re just friends.”

“Yeah, right.” The brothers winked at each other as they helped Sol into the car. Sol was in no state to keep protesting.

They’d been travelling for over an hour when Frankie turned off the unlit road that cut through the moorland. As the car crawled on and on up the driveway, he peered into
the darkness, unsure if he’d got the right place. Driving over the brow of the hill, the full beam of the headlights fell on a building standing in isolation on the black moor.

Frankie turned around and spoke to the prostrate girl. “Celia, are you awake?”

Celia had been fighting sleep the whole journey, determined to stay alert, but she’d lost her battle against the lulling motion of the car and the soporific hum of the engine.

Sleep had transported her to the flooded quarry. She was standing at the lakeside, bathed in brilliant sunshine. She turned on hearing footsteps. For a few moments the sun blinded her. Her eyes
struggled to adjust, but as her sight cleared, a vision approached: a man and a woman, their arms outstretched, joy etched on their faces. She instinctively recognized herself in them: the long
limbs of the pale-skinned woman with the mile-wide smile, the mop of unruly tangerine hair on the round-eyed man. Their agonizing years of waiting over as they whispered to her, “Celia,
we’ve come to take you home.”

Celia’s eyes flickered madly behind her closed lids, moans contained by her gag as a single teardrop toppled from her eye.

Frankie shook her. “Wake up, we’re here.”

She sat bolt upright, disorientated, the blanket of dreams ripped from her as she realized she was back in her waking nightmare.

He locked her in the car and, taking a torch, went to investigate the building. From the outside, the shabby prefab appeared disused but, despite the battering of the elements and the ivy that
covered its walls, the building appeared intact. He tried the door. It was locked. The door and its frame seemed surprisingly solid.

The night air was chilly now in the cloudless sky. He gave an involuntary shudder. This place really was in the middle of nowhere, no sign of life, no lights for miles. He phoned the client.

“I’m here. What do you want me to do?”

“Secure her just outside the building and then go,” she answered.

Frankie hesitated. “I’m not sure that I should leave her alone out here. Maybe I should wait until you arrive.”

“Absolutely not,” she answered, irritated. “Leave her and go. I’ll be in touch with you soon.”

“You’re not going to hurt her, are you?” he asked uneasily. His answer was a dead line.

He stood and looked over at his teenage captive, who defiantly returned his stare through the car window. A few seconds later he shook off the stranger that was his conscience, and went to the
boot of the car, pulling out some rope. Then he lifted her out of the car and bound her to the trunk of a nearby tree, before leaning in towards her, fingers grasping at her top. Celia shook her
head violently, her cries of panic muffled by the tape over her mouth, but he proceeded to rearrange the tracksuit top that was hanging from her, zipping it right up to her neck.

She was confused and repulsed by his seemingly caring act.

“I don’t want you to get cold,” he said. “I’ve got to go now, but someone will be along soon, someone who can help you.”

He dared to search her petrified features as he placed the torch upright on the floor. “I’ll leave the torch for you,” he said. He turned and walked away, mumbling into the
ground, “This is for the best.”

As Frankie drove off, he opened the window. He was choking with doubt and guilt. He couldn’t possibly have spotted the silent black Mercedes hidden from view that fired up its engine as
soon as he drove out of sight.

On hearing the car, Celia thought that the man must have turned around; maybe he’d had a change of heart, maybe he was going to let her go.

She was dazzled by the car’s headlights. The driver got out and walked towards her. Celia was unable to make out the approaching figure until it stood only centimetres away.

The impeccably groomed woman couldn’t take her eyes off Celia. She gazed at the girl as if she were an exotic animal. “Just look at you, my survivor,” she whispered in awe.

A cloud of sumptuous perfume enveloped Celia as the woman gently caressed her cold cheek. Celia didn’t even see the needle as she felt the lightning-quick sting in the side of her
neck.

By the time Frankie reached the motorway he practically had the road to himself. He sped along, trying to rid his head of Celia’s frightened face. Instead he filled it
with thoughts of going home and sleeping in his own bed. He was aching to get away from everything to do with this case, but he knew that he had suitcases full of his belongings back at the hotel
in the city. He made a decision. He didn’t care how late it was, he’d go to the hotel, collect his stuff and drive straight home, even if it took him until dawn.

But his comforting plan was shattered by the ringing of his phone.

“Mr. Byrne, I have the girl but I need you to do one last job for me.”

“What is it?” he asked coldly.

“You need to get rid of Janice Frost,” she said in a businesslike tone.

Frankie found himself grappling for words.

“Do you understand, Mr. Byrne? You have to get rid of her and you have to do it tonight.”

“I can’t do that!” Frankie retorted, finding his voice.

“You have no choice unless you want to be locked up for a very long time.”

“What are you talking about?” he snapped.

“Illegal bugging, hacking into confidential files and now kidnapping a girl – and God knows what the police will unearth once they start investigating you and your
practices.”

“You’re bluffing. You wouldn’t go to the police, you’d be exposing yourself.”

“You’re right.
I
won’t go to the police, but Janice Frost will, unless you stop her. Think about it: once Celia has been missing for a day or two the woman will have
nothing to lose by going to the police and telling them everything in the hope of finding her.”

“But that’s your problem. Janice Frost knows nothing about me or my involvement.”

“I’ll make sure that my problem becomes your problem. She’s the only person who could lead the police to me and I swear that if she does, I’ll lead them straight to
you.”

“But the girl knows everything too.”

“Forget about the girl. That’s all under control. Now, are you going to do the job?”

“I can’t kill someone.”

“Really, Mr. Byrne?” she said. “Just think about all those people you’ve tracked down and dragged back into the hands of loan sharks and gangsters. Do you lose any sleep
about what happened to them? Isn’t this just a more honest approach, instead of always being the middleman?”