Abduction, p.22
Abduction, page 22
I climbed into the back of the car beside Jake and waited for his dad to lock up the house and finish talking. Peter and Bea stood waiting to catch Jack then my aunt said something to Peter and he came over to the car. I rolled down the window to hear what he wanted to say. He mumbled something about Bea wanting us to go for a meal, but I couldn’t take it in. The words sounded hollow, echoing, and suddenly breathing was difficult.
As Peter leaned his arms on the open window, his head almost fully inside the car, I experienced what I can only describe as a vivid flashback. In my mind, I could see Peter in exactly the same pose, leaning through the window of another car with a strange man in the front seat. Being in such close proximity, I could smell Peter’s aftershave, a woody pine scent which took me right back in time.
I was laughing then, happily playing a game before suddenly becoming confused as the man in the front seat pricked my arm with a small needle.
That was it!
A snapshot of a memory triggered by Peter’s aftershave and the sight of him leaning into the car window!
I felt sick and turned towards Jake, backing away from Peter. At first, I couldn’t clear my brain to make sense of this frightening experience and could only stare at the figure of my uncle. Then his eyes narrowed, and he drew back from the window and almost ran to his car. What it all meant was not clear – it was like looking at something through muddied water – but I was left physically shaking, gasping for breath and almost clawing at Jake in an effort to draw closer to him, to be safe.
As Peter’s car sped away, Bea and Jack stared after him, their conversation forgotten as they watched in disbelief.
Dave Bennet climbed into the car, asking what had happened, but when he saw the state I was in he came round and opened the passenger door, kneeling beside me to speak.
‘It’s all right, Grace, just breathe slowly, you’re safe now.’
I tried to control my breathing, closing my eyes in an effort to relax, but the trembling continued; my teeth were chattering and I felt chilled through to my bones. Bea and Jack were at my side too, Bea holding my hand and speaking softly, but the words didn’t seem to be reaching me. I was aware of Jack asking what had happened, but I was in a vacuum, his voice seemed to be coming from the end of a tunnel. I couldn’t speak, I felt ill and wanted to curl up in a ball and be alone.
Dave went back into the house and brought me a glass of water. I drank half of it and again felt my heart pounding and my face flushed and damp. The next thing I realised was that the car was moving, very fast. When it finally stopped, there seemed to be arms reaching out to me from all angles, voices coming at me with questions I couldn’t answer. I was afraid, terrified, but of what I didn’t know.
It was a hospital. I was on a hospital bed – but why, what had happened, was I ill? Jake was holding an oxygen mask over my face, and as I breathed into it my body relaxed and I grew calm. A nurse spoke softly, asking if I’d ever felt like this before. I shook my head, and she left. Jake squeezed my hand, smiling.
‘Dad and Bea are talking to the doctor. Are you feeling better?’ His look of concern was touching.
‘Yes, a little, but what happened?’
‘I don’t know; Peter was asking if you’d like to go to their house for a meal, and you just seemed to collapse. I thought it was a heart attack or something.’
‘Sorry, but I’m feeling much better now. I need to talk to your dad, though. Can you get him for me?’
Jake went to find him. It was all flooding back, as clear as the day it happened. It was Peter who put me into a car all those years ago. The smell of his aftershave and the sight of him leaning in at the window was a déjà vu moment, but a very real, solid memory.
Chapter Fifty-One
Peter Cartwright
* * *
For fourteen years I’ve lived in fear of this moment. Solomon was a bloody fool, who should have kept to his part of the bargain and moved away – far, far away.
When Elise came round to tell us she had seen Grace, it was a shock. She was adamant it was her sister, and I had to put her off as kindly as possible. I couldn’t have it all dragged up again. But Elise persisted, bringing that Priestly man in again.
A bloody reconstruction was all I needed! Initially, it seemed to be an unproductive exercise and I really thought I’d gotten away with it again, until Bea asked me to invite Grace for a meal. I spoke to her in the car and she somehow remembered – it was clear from her expression and the horror reflected in her eyes. She was afraid of me.
Solomon never did pay what the girl was worth, or enough to compensate me for the risks I took. When I asked him for payment he became rather coy, pretending we’d only snatched the girl to rescue her from an abusive home. Hell. We both knew that was rubbish. It was a simple transaction, even though he pretended otherwise. The doctor knew the truth from the beginning but it was convenient to believe a lie, easier on his conscience.
It was me who took the risks and then afterwards the doctor started playing games with me, pretending to be shocked when I asked for money. He would part with only ten thousand pounds, barely enough to cover my debts at the time. I tried at regular intervals to squeeze more out of him, but was rewarded pitifully for the service I’d done them.
As for Margaret and Stephen, they deserved the shock to wake them up, to stop their superior I’ve got everything attitude. All I ever heard from Bea was how happy her sister was and what a wonderful life they had with a perfect home and perfect children. It made me sick! For all their supposed closeness, Margaret never offered to help us out, to treat us to a much-needed holiday to thank Bea for everything she did. It was always Bea who made the running, helping Margaret with this or that, taking care of the children to give her sister a break. She couldn’t see she was being taken for granted, used like a skivvy by her perfect sister.
To be honest, I very quickly regretted what I’d done, but I was desperate at the time and hadn’t thought it through. It’s too late now, just as it was too late that afternoon in August when I took Grace from her own birthday party. It was almost too easy. Solomon waiting in his car as we arranged and little Grace, still thinking we were playing hide and seek and that I was helping to find the best place to hide. The child was laughing, trusting – too young to be aware that trusting in this world is a waste of time. Even when I bundled her into the back of the car she smiled at me, excited at the adventure. A small scratch on her arm from the tiny hypodermic needle was probably the last thing Grace remembered before her old life ended and a new one began.
I suppose I was naive to expect that Margaret and Stephen would eventually recover from their loss. They were young enough to have more children and it seemed so unfair that Bea, who so desperately wanted a child, could not conceive. Admittedly, it was a cruel thing to do, but I knew the child would be well cared for – I wasn’t harming her in any way and I derived a strange pleasure from watching my sister- and brother-in-law suffer.
I’d wanted to teach them a lesson, but now it seems to have come back to bite me.
It’s over for me now; life holds nothing good to look forward to. Solomon’s better out of it and as for his loopy wife, she’s in another galaxy completely, convinced the girl really was their daughter, unless it’s an act in which case she’s put up a remarkable performance for all these years.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Jack Priestly
* * *
Thankfully, it was only a panic attack, for which I felt rather guilty having pushed for the reconstruction when I barely knew what outcome I expected. It was a long shot which I hoped would pay dividends, not affect Grace’s health.
When she was almost herself again, Grace asked to see me and told me what happened in the car. Seeing Peter Cartwright in almost exactly the same way as on the day of the abduction triggered a flashback so vivid that she actually felt she was being taken again, hence the panic attack.
I’ve come across this several times before in my line of work. Victims can blank negative incidents, but the subconscious still stores those memories and something quite mundane, a sound or a smell, can trigger a flashback. With Grace it was the combination of Cartwright looking through the car window and his choice of aftershave, which obviously had never changed.
When the hospital conducted their routine tests and was satisfied this was nothing more than a panic attack, Grace was free to go home. After she told me everything, I rang Dave Bennet, who was making his way home, with instructions to meet me at the Cartwrights’ house as soon as possible.
‘It’s the uncle,’ I told him, then I left Jake to call for a taxi and take Grace home, while I had the unenviable task of explaining to Bea what we now knew. Abandoned by her husband but more concerned about Grace, she’d travelled in our car to the hospital.
‘Jake’s taking Grace home, Bea. I’ll take you home. We need to talk.’
Alone in the car, I told her what I knew would be a tremendous shock, starting with the better news that Grace’s little ‘episode’ was only a panic attack, but then I explained what had triggered it.
‘No!’ she shouted. ‘Peter loves those girls as if they were our own and would never hurt either of them!’
I made no reply, concentrating instead on driving. The brutal truth would come out soon enough.
Arriving at the Cartwrights’ house I was pleased to see Dave already there, waiting in his car. Peter’s car was parked outside the gate.
‘Thought I’d better wait,’ Dave said.
I nodded and asked Bea to wait in the car, telling her I’d come and get her when we’d spoken to Peter. Her face was a stony mask; I wondered how she would be able to process that her husband had been an accomplice to such a hateful, evil crime. I asked for her door key, which she produced from her bag, and we went up the path, rang the bell and without waiting used the key to enter.
Peter Cartwright was at the kitchen table. In front of him was an assortment of medication, a few bottles of painkillers, a tranquilliser and several other medications. He was slumped over the table, and when I ran to check his vital signs, I saw the blood.
Dave was already ringing for an ambulance. Then he helped me lift Peter, who was a big man, to place him on the floor in the recovery position. The blood was from his wrist, the left one where a trickle ran along his arm.
I grabbed a tea towel from the back of the chair and wrapped it around the wound, applying pressure to stem the flow. The cut appeared to have missed the artery, otherwise the blood loss would be considerably more and the man would probably have been dead. Peter was still breathing, although erratically and his pulse wasn’t too strong, but he was alive.
‘Peter!’ Bea came into the house regardless of what I’d asked and knelt down beside his unconscious body. With tears in her eyes she beat him with her fists. Dave and I both reached to pull her away, but she fought like a tiger. ‘Stupid, stupid man! How could you do this to us, to me?’
When we did manage to pull Bea away I took her into the lounge while Dave remained to monitor Peter. I could understand her anger. It was incredible that a family member, someone who even helped in the original search and who visited the Brysons so regularly, could actually have assisted in abducting his own niece.
Bea eventually calmed down, and within fifteen minutes of Dave’s call the ambulance arrived and the paramedics quickly began their assessment. Still unconscious, Peter Cartwright was carried to the ambulance and taken to hospital. I asked Bea if she wanted to go with him, and the answer was an emphatic ‘no’. I sent Dave instead. As soon as Cartwright was able to understand where he was and why, Dave would caution him and arrest him for abduction.
‘How am I going to tell Margaret?’ Bea looked so pale and tired. My satisfaction at finding the accomplice was marred by it being a member of their family. I knew Elise was close to Bea and Peter, who cared for her during the most distressing period of her life. This revelation would shock them all and I pitied Bea for having to impart such knowledge.
‘Would you like me to tell them?’
‘Thank you but no; you’ve done so much for us already, Jack.’
I couldn’t leave her at home, alone. ‘Shall I take you there – we could do this together?’
Bea looked into my eyes, her own reflecting the enormity of what she’d just been confronted with and the pain it brought. ‘Thank you, Jack.’ She nodded as a tear trickled down her face.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Elise McDonald
* * *
It was a disappointing afternoon. Simon was waiting anxiously for news, but there was none to impart. His parents tactfully left so we could be alone with Mum and Dad. Baby Jack was sleeping, which didn’t bode well for a good night ahead for us. Still, we needed to talk, not about what happened but about our feelings and the future. Were we going to let the matter drop or not? Actually, that was probably more up to Jack and his DI than us.
‘Was it okay, going in the house again?’ Simon was concerned for us all. I answered first.
‘Perhaps okay isn’t the word. I remembered the events of the birthday party, yes, but then other memories came to mind, earlier ones. We had some wonderful times at Lilac House and I was grateful to remember the good as well as the bad.’
Dad nodded. ‘It was never going to be easy, but with Grace back it was bearable. Goodness knows what she thought of it all, yet sadly she remembered nothing. What do you think, Margaret? You looked around the garden with her.’
‘She was actually more concerned for us and almost apologetic for remembering nothing. But that’s good, isn’t it? I wouldn’t want her to remember that awful day.’
Our conversation was interrupted by the baby waking, a welcome diversion. Mum jumped up before me to lift our son from his crib. This was another positive. Jack was the symbol of the future, which now would be a complete one. I wished I’d asked Grace to come back with us, but Jake was there for her and I was sure she’d come again soon.
Leaving Mum happily cooing at her grandson, trying to get a smile, I went into the kitchen to make coffee. Simon followed, weaving his hands around my waist while I filled the kettle at the sink. He kissed the back of my neck and I turned towards him.
‘I’m good … honestly, there’s nothing to worry about. I rather think our life will be easier for getting this out of the way. Now be an angel and get the cups out for me.’ I hoped my words were true, but why wouldn’t they be?
As we drank coffee, Mum and Dad told us of the estate agents they’d contacted and the folder already amassed of prospective houses to view. Their decision to come home was good news and they could do so now without accusing fingers or whispered gossip. It wasn’t only Grace who would benefit from their move, and I loved the idea of keeping the property in France as a holiday home, a bonus for us all.
The doorbell rang and Simon answered it, returning to the lounge with Jack Priestly and Bea. From the look on Bea’s face and the red circles around her eyes, all was not well. Mum ran to hug her sister, guiding her to a seat, clearly concerned at what could be wrong.
I looked at Jack. ‘What is it, what’s happened?’ Something was amiss. Bea nodded at Jack, giving him permission to speak.
‘After you left, Grace suffered a panic attack, but don’t worry, she’s fine. We took her to the hospital and she’s back home now with Jake and Sarah.’
‘Whatever caused it – the visit?’ Dad asked.
‘Yes and no. Peter went to the car with a message for Grace while Bea and I were talking and it triggered a memory, a flashback, to the day she was taken. I’m really sorry, but it was Peter who helped Dr Solomon to abduct Grace.’
Stunned would be an understatement to describe how we felt at such incredible news. Bea hid her face in her hands, sobbing openly, with Mum crying softly too.
‘Are you sure? Could it be a mistake?’ I knew the answer before I asked. Jack wouldn’t be telling us if he wasn’t certain.
‘Where is he? Have you arrested him?’ Dad was clearly furious and struggled to hold back his anger.
Jack drew in a deep breath and then explained the events of the last couple of hours, events our weary minds could barely absorb. Peter had always been there for us, in the background maybe but very much part of our family. It was unthinkable that he could do such a thing, yet he must have or why would he attempt suicide?
The room suddenly felt cold. Poor Aunt Bea could hardly look at us and kept apologising.
‘It’s not your fault, Bea, you’re not responsible for his actions. I just don’t understand why he hates us so much?’ Dad looked dazed while Mum clung to her sister. Peter must have harboured such bitterness and jealousy to make him party to such an evil act.
‘What happens now, Jack?’ I asked. ‘Will Peter be all right?’
‘I think so. It was difficult to know what medication he’d taken, but they’ll pump his stomach out at the hospital. The cuts were superficial, so I don’t think there’s any danger from them. Dave will stay with him until he wakes up and as soon as he’s able to understand, he’ll be arrested.’
‘And you’re sure Grace is okay?’
‘Yes, but if you’d like to ring and speak to her…?’
We did, so Jack dialled his home number and Sarah put Grace on the line to speak to us. She sounded tired but relieved it was all over. Mum spoke with her for a couple of minutes, then Dad and lastly me. We didn’t go into details or ask anything other than how she was. There would be time enough for specifics when we all felt better and the shock had worn off. I said goodnight to my sister, reassured that Sarah would take good care of her. There was so much for which to thank Jack and his family.
