Mo Hayder - Hanging Hill

Sally indicated left and turned the car into Isabelle’s long driveway. Zoë’s phone rang, making her jump. She snatched it out of her pocket. It was Ben.

‘Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine.’ He sounded rushed. Excited. She could hear he was walking. Could hear traffic going past him as if he was on a busy city road. ‘But, Zoë, where are you? Have you left yet?’

‘I’m just picking up my niece. I’ll be back at my car in five and on my way.’

‘No. Don’t come to Gloucester.’

‘What?’

‘He’s not here.’

‘ Shit .’ She sat back in her seat, deflated. She shot Sally a sideways glance as they bounced along the track. ‘Not there,’ she muttered. ‘Not there.’

‘How come?’

‘How come, Ben?’

‘The support team kicked the door in. His mate was on board, pissed as a parrot, but he hasn’t seen Kelvin in weeks. The barge hasn’t been anywhere near Bath, hasn’t left Gloucester in over a year – the harbour master confirmed that. So I went back to the phone thing. You know I couldn’t get anything about his mobile, needed superintendent authority on that. Well, someone at BT owes me a favour and-’

‘And?’

‘Burford made several calls to a number in Solihull this lunchtime. Turns out his sister lives there.’

‘Solihull? That’s about – what? A forty-minute drive if you take the-’

She broke off. Sally was slowing the car down and the headlights had picked out a vehicle, parked at an untidy angle up ahead in the driveway. A Land Rover.

‘That’s funny,’ Sally began, as Zoë leaned forward. ‘I thought Isabelle wasn’t-’

‘ Stop! ’

Sally slammed on the brakes. She stared out of the windscreen at the mud-covered Land Rover. Zoë made frantic motioning signals. ‘ Go back .’ She swivelled her head to look out of the back window. ‘ Go on. Do it .’

Sally slammed the gearstick into reverse and the car lurched back twenty yards, bumping over potholes and the grass verge. Ben’s voice was coming from the tinny little phone speaker. ‘ Zoë? What’s happening?’

‘In there. Put it in there . Fast.’

Sally jumped the car back another ten yards, shoving it in behind a row of laurels. She switched the engine off, and killed the headlights. Zoë sat forward in her seat, peering down the driveway.

‘ Zoë? ’

She lifted the phone numbly, a ball of adrenalin clenched in her chest. ‘Yes.’

‘Are you OK?’

‘We’re OK,’ she said dully. ‘But listen. I really don’t think Kelvin’s in Solihull.’

The Sweetmans’ house was big – a Victorian monstrosity, with three floors and a turret on the roof. There were lights on in some of the downstairs rooms and a window on the ground floor stood open. Zoë leaned out of the open passenger window and took in every detail. ‘Isabelle doesn’t know Kelvin.’ She wound up the window and turned to her sister. ‘Does she?’

‘No.’

‘Well, that’s his Land Rover. That’s the registration the PNC gave me this afternoon.’

Sally fumbled for her phone. Her face had gone pale. ‘He doesn’t know Isabelle, but he does know Millie.’

‘He knows Millie ? How come?’

She hit a fast-dial key and held it to her ear. ‘She was up at his house one afternoon.’

‘What the hell was she doing there?’

‘She was with me one day when I was working for David – but she knew Kelvin before. She and the others used to go up there. I think they used to torment him. Peter and Nial and Sophie and Millie. And Lorne too, probably, they all used to-’

She put her finger to her lip. The phone must have been answered. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Shut her eyes and put her fingers against her forehead. ‘Uh, Millie,’ she said, after a moment or two. ‘It’s Mum. I’m at Nial’s. I need you to call me the moment you get this message. The moment.’ She hung up and dug her thumbnail into the space between her two front teeth. ‘The phone battery keeps running out. I’ve been meaning to replace it.’

Zoë was staring at Sally’s face. ‘Sally? Did you just tell me they used to torment Kelvin? And that Lorne went up there too?’

‘Yes. Why?’

She turned and gazed back at the Land Rover. What, she thought, if all along Lorne hadn’t met Kelvin through the clubs but through Millie’s gang and the days they used to go up to the cottage and torment him? She could imagine someone like Peter Cyrus doing it – she could imagine Kelvin’s rage. All like her . What if those words meant all the girls who’d been in that gang? The message in Sally’s car had been on the passenger side – where Millie would have been sitting, which meant it could have been directed at Millie, not Sally at all.

‘Shit,’ she hissed. ‘Call Nial.’

‘What?’ she said numbly. ‘Sorry?’

‘Just do it . Do it now.’

Shakily Sally scrolled through her contacts. She found the number and dialled.

‘Put it on speaker.’

She did, and the two women sat, heads together, looking at the display flashing. After four rings the call connected.

There was a muffled noise at the other end. Then, clearly, someone breathing. A word, so slurred it was impossible to hear it. A male voice.

‘ Nial? ’ Sally whispered, horrified. ‘ Nial? ’

More breathing. A noise. Like something soft being banged against glass. Then the phone went dead. Sally turned her eyes to her sister.

‘ What was that noise? ’ she murmured, her eyes watering with fear. ‘What the hell was that noise?’

‘Shit.’ Zoë slammed her hands on the dashboard. Her head dropped back against the seat. ‘Jesus, shit , I can’t believe this is happening.’ She turned in her seat and peered back up the track towards the main road. Gloucester was a good forty miles away. Ben wouldn’t be here for at least an hour. ‘OK. Let’s think.’ No way was she calling the police. She could just see Kelvin being hauled off by some Support Group officers and yelling out everything he knew about her and about Sally’s connection to Goldrab. She felt in her pockets. She’d left her expandable ASP baton in her car. All she had, tucked into her leather jacket, was the little CS gas spray canister issued to all officers. ‘Where do the family keep their tools?’

But the shock had hit Sally. Her face was white and she had started to shake. ‘ It means Kelvin’s got them ,’ she said, her voice almost lapsing into hysteria. ‘ Both of them .’

‘No.’ Zoë shook her head. ‘It doesn’t mean that at all.’

‘ Yes, it does. You know it does. Millie’s not answering her phone. He’s done something to her. Call the police .’

‘Sally.’ She grabbed her sister’s arm. ‘Keep it together. You know why I’m not calling the police. Ben’s on his way and we can do this. We can.’

‘Oh, God.’ She put her face in her hands. ‘Oh, God, I can’t.’

‘We can . You’ve got to listen. OK? We need tools. Where do I look?’

‘There’s a garage, but…’ She waved vaguely behind her. ‘In the boot. There’ll be something in there. Oh God, he’s going to kill her.’

Zoë got out of the car. What warmth had accumulated during the day now radiated up into the open sky, as if it wanted to reach the stars. It was freezing. Really and truly freezing. She left the car door wide open and went silently to the back, throwing cautious glances at the lights of the Sweetmans’ house shining through the trees. There wasn’t a sound. All she could hear in this lonely farm land was the vague hum of cars going by on the distant road. But what kept reverberating in her ears was the noise in the background of that phone call. Thud thud thud . What the hell had that been? She went through the contents of the boot quickly. A few DIY tools – a ball-pein hammer, a pair of long-handled shears and a chisel. A small axe.