Page 72 of Then She Vanished

He nodded. Gina stepped towards the end of the drive and spoke into her phone. ‘Jhanvi.’

Eric Hathaway’s car pulled off his drive, leaving her and Jacob there. She knew they’d have to catch up with the Hathaways later.

Trainee DC Kapoor spoke fast. ‘Guv, it’s about Edmundson’s Farm, where Gary Pritchard works. We have a link to the horses that have cropped up in the case. They rent stable space out. There is a paddock for the horses, too. I’ve checked out their Facebook page. The Edmundsons post a lot about their organic ice cream and butter. In one video, Mrs Edmundson talks about the farm and the fact that they have loads of outbuildings, even an Anderson shelter. They also have two white vans registered to them, both with sliding side doors.’

‘We’re on our way. Tell the team to hold back until Jacob and I get there. We’ll approach them first as they may not even be aware of what’s going on, but make sure all potential exits are covered. If Gary Pritchard is hiding out on the farm, we’re going to get him.’

FORTY-SIX

GIRL

I feel so much better since that horrible night, months ago, when the infection was tearing through me. I mentioned that there was another man but he just told me I was seeing things, that infection causes hallucinations. Either way, I’m thankful to still be here even though my recovery has been slow. I thought I was going to die.

Staring at our chess game, I see now that I can win and I didn’t need to castle. I’m three moves away from the end and I know which moves he will make because I will give him no other choice.

I bring my white queen onto the row of his king. It feels so good being on the attack for a change, because, despite him saying that I’ve let him win before, I haven’t. He can only move one forward, then I will bring my bishop across and it will be checkmate.

Who knows when he will come back and make his move, though, but I’ll be ready when he does.

We are still mourning the loss of our baby. I made him bring the Babygro back, and I keep it under my pillow. Sometimes I snuggle into it, but it’s hollow, just like me.

He’s with me most nights now, which is sweet, and he brings me decent food, which he never cooks himself. He buys it and we warm it up in the microwave. It’s definitely not a patch on what my mum used to cook, but it’s more nutritious than the ramen and fruit pots. We think that is why we lost the baby. I just wasn’t strong enough to carry him.

Last night, he brought us a cooked chicken to share, with a bag of salad. Then he left me this bottle of vitamins. I’m not taking any risks now that we’re trying for a baby again. I will take this folic acid religiously and I am going to have a little one to hold in my arms. The blue pinafore that used to hang off me has got a little tighter. I am no longer the waif of a girl I was since I’ve been eating better.

I imagine my tiny space filled with a gargling cherub smiling at me, loving me and… I want to cry again for the little one I lost. Shaking those sad thoughts away, I take a few deep breaths and think of the future as I pop one of the vitamins into my mouth.

I’m lonely here and my arms feel light.

I flinch as the lights go out. Then they come on again. Then they go out and come on. Off, on. Off, on.

‘Hey, is that you?’ I call out in the hope that he’s watching me through the cameras.

No answer.

I get off the bed and walk through my tiny kitchen area in the hope that the lights stay on. Not that it matters. I’ve become good at doing everything in the dark. I reach the metal door and bang, then someone bangs from the other side of it.

‘Hello?’ I call out.

Again, no one answers. The intercom blares out and the piercing sound of a young child’s screeching laughter sends me running back to my bed.

Who comes here and how did they get here? The lights abruptly go off.

The laughter continues and the child speaks. ‘Hello.’ A burst of giggles follows.

I almost want to cry at the sound of this angelic voice. I’m guessing the child is between five and ten years old. ‘Hello,’ I call back. ‘What’s your name?’

Whispers and giggles fill the room. There is more than one child.

‘It’s okay, you can talk to me.’ I don’t want them to go. I’m so happy to hear their little voices. They’re literally bringing joy to my heart.

‘Stop it,’ the other child says and they both giggle.

‘My name is Lissy. What’s your name?’ I ask.

Then I hear a loud slap and the children begin to wail and scream. The intercom is cut off and my blood runs cold. I run back to my bed, get under the blankets and hide.

The intercom crackles on again and the children are screaming. I pull the blankets over my head and cry into my pillow. ‘Don’t hurt the children,’ I keep saying, over and over again until my throat dries up. ‘Don’t hurt the children,’ I croak one more time.

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