The Society Of Dirty Hearts (14 page)

Julian started driving. He had no clear idea where he intended to go, but a short time later he found himself outside Eleanor’s house. He made his way around to the back garden and threw gravel at her window. A light came on and she appeared at the glass. “Julian, is that you?”

“I need to talk.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“Please, it’s important.”

“It always is when you need something from me. But what about when I need something from you? You wouldn’t talk to me when I called last week. So why should I talk to you now?”

“I know I’ve used you, Ellie. I know that, and I’m sorry for it. But if you’ll just let me in, I’ll explain.”

Eleanor’s forehead wrinkled in thought a few seconds, then she shook her head. “No, Julian, enough is enough. You’ve got to-”

“Mia Bradshaw’s dead,” interjected Julian.

Eleanor’s eyes widened, her hand went to her mouth. “Oh my God. How?”

“Let me in and I’ll tell you.”

“Okay.” Eleanor disappeared from the window and reappeared a moment later at the backdoor in her dressing-gown. She frowned at the sight of Julian’s face in the light of the kitchen. “What happened to you?”

“Jake Bradshaw.” Rubbing his bruised jaw, Julian dropped heavily onto a chair. “I could do with a drink.”

“You want a coffee or something?”

Julian nodded and as Eleanor made it he told her everything that’d happened the previous day. She shuddered, no doubt imagining, as he’d done, what it would be like to drown. He sipped his coffee, staring at the tabletop. “I should’ve known she’d do something like this.”

“How could you know?”

“From the way she looked at the river. Her eyes had this weird blankness.”

“This isn’t your fault, Julian. This isn’t anybody’s fault.”

He shook his head hard. “People don’t kill themselves for no reason. There’s something behind all this – maybe something that goes back to Mia’s mother’s death.” A sudden thought came to him. “When Mia’s mum died it must’ve been in the newspapers at the time. Would it be possible to look through some old copies of The Chronicle?”

“Sure. But why bother? What good can it do now?”

“Probably none, but I need to at least try to understand what’s happened.”

“Why does this mean so much to you, Julian? You barely knew Mia Bradshaw.”

Feeling he owed Eleanor at least an attempt at an explanation, Julian said awkwardly, “It’s hard to put it into words, but I felt something when I was with her that I’ve never felt with anybody else. I’m not talking about love…Or maybe I am. I don’t know. Maybe if I can find out why she did what she did, I’ll know why I felt what I felt.” Eleanor lowered her eyes from Julian’s, the hurt plain on her face. “I’m sorry,” he said.

She managed a smile. “Don’t be, there’s no need.” Raising a finger to her lips, she motioned for Julian to follow her. They went into her dad’s study and she booted up his computer. “The website’s only been online a few weeks,” she said, logging onto the newspaper’s archives site. “I designed it myself. What year do you want to look at?”

“Well Mia can’t have been more than a baby when her mum died. So I guess we’re talking roughly fifteen years ago.”

Mia clicked on 1995 and typed in the search term ‘Suicide. The High Bridge’. “Here we are.” She read a headline, “Missing schoolgirl found dead in river.” Underneath it was a photo of a girl – the same photo Julian had found in Mia’s diary, except that it was black-and-white.

He bent to read the article, which continued ‘Police searching for a fifteen-year old girl have found her body in a river. Deborah Bradshaw was last seen when she left her home on the night of March 23. It’s been speculated that Deborah jumped from The High Bridge because her twin babies, a boy and a girl aged just three months, were taken away by Social Services last month after a family court hearing. A police spokesman said: “At this time we’re treating the death as suicide. However, we can’t be a hundred percent sure, and theories of something more sinister are understandable.” An inquest into Deborah’s death is expected to be opened later this week.’

“Something more sinister,” said Julian, frowning. “What does that mean?”

“It means some people thought Deborah Bradshaw was killed and it was made to look like suicide,” said a voice from behind him. He started and looked over his shoulder.

“Dad, what’re you doing up?” said Eleanor. “We didn’t wake you, did we?”

Mike shook his head. “I’ve been awake a couple of hours, thinking.”

“About what?”

“Funnily enough, about Deborah Bradshaw. I’ve been thinking about her a lot since her daughter went missing.”

Eleanor gave Julian a slightly sheepish look. “I had to tell someone, and Dad promised to keep it to himself.”

Julian barely heard her. Mike Hill’s words were swirling in his head like debris in the aftermath of a tornado. “What people and why?” he asked.

“People who knew her and said she just wasn’t the type to kill herself,” said Mike. “They were convinced her death had something to do with the father of her babies.”

“Who was the father?”

“No one’s ever found out. A rumour did the rounds that it was a much older man, a family man.”

Eleanor wrinkled up her nose. “That’s horrible. It makes my skin crawl to think of it.”

“So this guy, whoever he is, threw Deborah Bradshaw off the bridge because she was going to expose him, is that it?” said Julian.

“Something like that,” said Mike.

“Do you think that’s what happened?”

“Maybe. Or maybe she was simply overwhelmed by everything that happened to her.” Mike motioned at the computer screen. “So what’s got you reading this?”

“Mia Bradshaw’s dead. She jumped off the bridge too.”

Mike’s eyebrows lifted. “How do you know she jumped?” When Julian told him, his eyebrows drew together again and he said, “Well, I must say that sounds pretty conclusive. But it doesn’t have to mean what it looks like.”

“What else could it mean?”

“Maybe Mia wants the police to think she’s jumped when-”

“When she really has run away,” Julian interjected, his voice quick with fresh hope.

“Exactly.”

Anxiety returned to Julian’s eyes as another possibility occurred to him. “What if somebody threw her in the river and made it look like she jumped.”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“There’s something else,” Julian glanced at Eleanor. “Something I haven’t told you.” He gave them the full story about Mr Ugly and what’d happened the night Mia disappeared. “I thought maybe she was involved in some kind of prostitution or pornography, something like that. But now I’m thinking, what if it had something to do with her father? What if she found out who he was?”

“How would she have done that?”

“Maybe her mum left behind a letter or a diary.”

“If she had, the police would’ve found it at the time she died.”

“Well maybe someone told her.”

Mike shook his head. “Why would they do that after all these years? It’s tempting to look for some conspiracy, but if you ask me, you were closer to the truth with your first guess. I’d say Mia Bradshaw got mixed up in something unpleasant, and she’s either trying to run away from it or it’s driven her to suicide. Of course, there’s always the possibility she simply couldn’t bear the death of her friend.”

Now it was Julian’s turn to shake his head. “There’s something going on in this town. Deborah Bradshaw, Susan Carter, Joanne Butcher and now Mia Bradshaw. That’s four fifteen-year old girls who’ve gone missing from around here in the last fifteen years.”

“Susan Carter.” Mike looked at Julian curiously. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. What makes you mention her?”

Thinking about the dreams, Julian struggled to maintain eye contact with him. “My grandma was a clairvoyant. She tried to help her parents find her.”

“Yes, I know. I just don’t see how Susan Carter’s connected to this.”

“Her body was never found, right. What if that’s because she ended up in the river, too?”

“Hang on. Let me get this straight. You’re suggesting somebody around here’s killing girls and dumping them in the river?”

“Maybe they are.”

“And Joanne Butcher’s death wasn’t an accident either, right?”

“Well maybe it wasn’t.”

“You’re making connections where none exist, Julian. If there was even a hint of a connection between Susan Carter’s disappearance and the other three, don’t you think the police would’ve spotted it?”

“Maybe they have.”

“What the hell does that mean?” A crooked smile tugged at Mike’s mouth. “Oh, I get it. The police are in on it too.”

“Well Tom Benson didn’t seem all that interested when I went to him about Mia.”

“Hey, maybe the root of it goes even deeper than the police. Maybe half the town’s in on it as well.” Mike’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.

“I know I sound paranoid, but I’m just trying to make sense of all this.”

“What if there is no sense to be made of it? Bad stuff happens, Julian, especially to vulnerable kids like Deborah and Mia Bradshaw and Joanne Butcher. It’s hard to take, I know, but that’s the way it is.”

Heaving a breath, Julian put his head down and closed his eyes. “You’re probably right, I’m probably reading way too much into this. Truth is, I don’t know what to think. My mind’s going like crazy.”

“I know I’m right. I’ve been reporting the news in this town for twenty-five years. And believe me, whether it be the work of a lone predator or a whole conspiracy of them, if someone was doing the things you say, I’d have got wind of it.”

Julian thought about Tom Benson. He’d been certain of his rightness, too. “What if you’re wrong though?”

Contemplating the possibility made Mike reach for his cigarettes. He sparked up, took a drag, and looked at Julian gravely. “In that case, you should get out of town today, go back to university, go travelling for a while, whatever. Just put some distance between yourself and this business.”

Julian sat silent a full minute, brow creased. He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“But what can you do to help Mia?” said Eleanor.

“I don’t know. All I know is I can’t abandon her.”

“You’re going to get yourself in serious trouble, Julian, maybe hurt even worse than you already are.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t matter anymore.”

“Yes you do,” Eleanor shot back, her eyes shimmering with barely contained tears. “You matter to your parents, and to me.”

Julian looked at her apologetically. “I’d better go. Thanks for your help.”

Eleanor lowered her gaze from his. He continued to stare at her a moment, knowing suddenly and with absolute certainty how wrong he’d been to leave her. Then he headed for the front door. Mike followed him. “A piece of advice Julian, don’t go repeating what you’ve said here to anyone.” His voice dropped. “And do me a favour, as long as you’re going to be involved in this – whatever this is – keep your distance from Ellie, will you?”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Julian assured him. “I only came here tonight because I needed her help.”

Mike reached for a pen and paper, and scribbled down his mobile number. “Well, if you need any more help, or you just want to talk, or whatever, you can reach me on that number anytime.”

“Thanks.”

A look of concern came into Mike’s pale eyes. “And for Christ’s sake, Julian, be careful. You may not care much about yourself right now, but there are a lot of people around here who’d suffer if you did something reckless.”

Julian thought about his mum. He nodded. “I will be.” He returned to his dad’s car and drove home.

Chapter 13

The instant Julian pulled into the driveway, his dad stormed outside with rage in his eyes. “What the hell do you think you’re doing taking my car without asking?” he yelled as Julian got out of the car.

“I needed it.”

“For what?”

“There was something I had to do. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not bloody sorry,” spat Robert. “You’re a selfish little shit, you always have been. You don’t think of anybody but yourself. What if your mum had taken ill and needed rushing to the hospital? What then?”

Letting out a sigh, Julian handed over the car keys and made his way past his dad into the house. Robert stamped after him. “Don’t you dare walk away from me.”

Julian’s mum and Wanda watched from the kitchen doorway. Christine looked as though she didn’t know what worried her more – her son’s pale bruised face, or her husband’s furious purple face. Putting his head down, Julian headed for his bedroom. Robert grabbed his arm and yanked him around to face him. “I said don’t walk away from me.” He thrust his face toward Julian’s. “I’ve asked you several questions, and you’ve answered none.”

“Let go,” said Julian, a tinge of colour rising to his cheeks.

Robert jabbed a finger into his breastbone. “Not until you’ve answered my questions.”

“Let fucking go.”

“No. I’m sick of your games, Julian. We’re going to get to the bottom of all this right here and right now.”

Julian clenched his fists, his eyes set hard, mirroring his dad’s. For a full thirty seconds, they stared at each other. Then Julian brought his fist down on his dad’s hand, knocking it away. Robert’s eyes widened, more in shock than pain. Turning, Julian made for his bedroom again. With a cry of indignant fury, Robert lunged after him. Julian tried to dodge his grasp, but his dad caught hold of his t-shirt. The two of them staggered and toppled over. The breath whistled between Julian’s teeth as he hit the floorboards. Winded, he twisted and vainly tried to shove his dad, who was several stones heavier than him, away.

“Answers,” Robert shouted.

“Fuck you,” Julian shouted back.

“Stop it,” said Christine, her voice shrill and quivering. “Stop it, stop it, stop-” She choked off suddenly and her head slumped back, teeth clenched, body taut and shaking.

“Christine,” Robert gasped, scrambling across to his wife, holding her arms and legs steady while Wanda cradled her head.

“Phone an ambulance,” Wanda told Julian.

Heart going like crazy, he jumped up and dashed off to breathlessly do so. He’d seen his mum have seizures before. Most lasted only a few minutes, and passed without causing lasting harm. There was always the chance, though, that one could lead to further paralysis, even death. By the time he got off the phone, the spasms had subsided and Wanda was checking to make sure Christine hadn’t swallowed her tongue.