Those in Peril (Unlocked) (44 page)

‘How did he do it, John? Did he strangle her? Club her to death?’

John shook his head. ‘It’s too horrible.’ The old man bowed his head and sobbed.

‘You have to tell us, John,’ Hector insisted. John lifted his head slowly and his voice was so soft and tremulous that they could barely make out the words.

‘He decapitated her. He cut off her head,’ he said.

Hazel gasped. ‘Oh God, no. Why would anybody do a thing like that?’

‘Did he steal anything?’ Hector demanded brusquely. His tone was hard and without emotion. John shook his head.

‘So you are saying that he stole nothing? He took nothing from the house?’ Hector insisted. John raised his head and looked directly at him for the first time.

‘He took nothing, except . . .’ He broke off again.

‘Come on, John! Tell us. What did he take?’

‘He took Grace’s head.’ Even Hector was speechless for a long moment.

‘He took her head? Have the police found it?’

‘No. It’s gone. That’s why I couldn’t tell you before. It’s too horrible.’ Hector turned his head to look into Hazel’s eyes. She read his expression and rose to her feet covering her mouth with one hand, staring at him.

‘Sweet Christ!’ he said softly. ‘It’s the Beast again!’ She dropped her hand from her mouth.

‘Cayla! Oh, God save my baby! Cayla!’ She sank to her knees and buried her face in her cupped hands. ‘I am so afraid for my baby. I have to go to her.’ Hector put his arm around her and lifted her to her feet. He looked at John on the sofa.

‘We have to go, John. I’m dreadfully sorry. However, the living must take precedence over the dead. Cayla is in mortal danger. Unless we can do our utmost to prevent it, the same thing may happen to her.’ He started for the door, still guiding Hazel.

‘You can’t leave me. Please stay with me until after the funeral at least,’ John cried after them. Hector had no reply for him. He and Hazel ran down the front steps to where the Maybach was still parked. He placed Hazel tenderly on the back seat and sat beside her with his arm around her. Then he snapped at the chauffeur,

‘Take us back to the airport at once!’

A
s soon as they were airborne they made the first call on the speaker phone. It was to Cayla’s mobile phone, but it went straight to voicemail. Hazel’s next call was to Cayla’s dorm at the Vet School in Denver. She was answered by a cheerful young female voice.

‘Cayla Bannock? Okay! I haven’t seen her today, but she must be around. Can you hold while I try to find her?’ It was seven minutes of agonizing wait, before the girl came back on the line.

‘She isn’t in the common room. I knocked on the door of her bedroom, but there was no reply. None of the other girls in the dorm has seen her since Monday. Can you try the registrar at the main block? I’ll give you the number.’ They made four more calls before they found Simon Cooper at the Med School.

‘Hello, Mrs Bannock. Excuse me! I forgot that you are married now. Hello, Mrs Cross.’

‘Simon, I have to speak to Cayla. Do you know where she is?’

‘Oh, I haven’t seen her since last Friday evening. I have been studying for the examinations that are coming up. Cayla is not too pleased with me. She says I’m neglecting her. She hasn’t called me, and she won’t answer my calls. I think I’m being punished. I presumed she was with you in Houston for the holiday weekend.’

‘No, Simon, we are not in Houston. We’re travelling. Cayla is missing. Please try to find her. When you do find her please ask her to telephone me urgently, will you?’

‘Of course I will, Mrs Cross.’ Hazel broke the connection and she and Hector looked at each other.

‘We mustn’t jump to the worst conclusions.’ He touched her arm.

‘No,’ she agreed. ‘There’s probably a perfectly logical explanation. I’ll ring Agatha in Houston.’ Hazel’s PA came on the line after only a few rings. She had recognized Hazel’s number on the screen at her end.

‘Good evening, Mrs Cross,’ she said in her usual businesslike tone. ‘Or I expect it’s not evening wherever you are.’ Hazel had neither the time nor the fancy for pleasantries.

‘Agatha, have you seen Cayla?’

‘No, I’m afraid not. Not since the wedding in any event.’

‘Please try to find her, and tell her to contact me urgently.’ She disconnected and looked at Hector. Her eyes were filling with tears.

‘She has disappeared,’ she said miserably. ‘And here we are stuck helplessly in this stupid damned machine over the Atlantic. What can we do?’

‘Paddy is in Vancouver. He’s attending a seminar there. He gave me his number.’ He searched quickly through the names listed on his mobile phone. ‘Here it is.’ He dialled and within a very short time Paddy’s familiar brogue echoed from the speakers.

‘This is O’Quinn. Who is calling?’

‘Paddy, this is Heck. We have a red alert.’

‘I’m listening. Tell me about it, Heck.’

‘Hazel’s mother has been murdered in Cape Town. Her corpse was decapitated and her head was taken by her killer. The whole business stinks of the Beast. Now Cayla seems to be missing from her school at Denver. We are returning as fast as we can, but we have only just taken off from South Africa. You must take a charter flight to Denver, Colorado. That is where Cay was last seen four days ago. Go there and find her, Paddy!’

‘Right away, boss,’ said Paddy. ‘First thing to do is file a Missing Persons. Who was the last person to see her?’

‘As far as we know, it was her boyfriend, Simon Cooper.’ Hector gave his phone number to Paddy.

‘Tell Hazel not to worry. It never helps at all.’

‘Call us every hour, Paddy, even if you have nothing to report.’

Within eight hours Paddy was with the Chief of Police in Denver. They had an all-points bulletin out for Cayla. All the local radio stations and TV stations were broadcasting appeals for information and displaying Cayla’s photograph. Police officers had been sent out to grill Simon Cooper and all the other students in Cayla’s class and dorm.

‘Nothing definite yet, Hector. But everybody is working on it. Cayla hasn’t slept in the dorm for the last three nights, nor has she attended her classes since Monday. I have just this minute spoken to the Chief of Police in Houston. He knows Hazel well. Big respect. He is sending out his people to visit all Cayla’s usual haunts.’ When the BBJ landed at Atlanta to clear customs and immigration Hector called Paddy immediately.

‘We have to make a decision, Paddy. Do we fly to Houston or Denver? What is your advice?’

‘Half an hour ago we received a tip from the local TV station. A caller thinks he recognized the photograph of Cayla. He thinks he saw a girl like her on the flight from Denver to Houston two days ago. So the main search moves to Houston.’

‘Please God, let it be her,’ Hazel breathed. ‘Tell Peter to file a flight plan for Houston. I’ll call Agatha to have a car for us at the airport. It will be after midnight before we arrive.’ Both of them managed a few hours of broken sleep on the last leg of the flight, but they were exhausted when they at last reached the Bannock homestead. All the lights were on in the house and Agatha met them at the front door.

‘Any news?’ Hazel demanded.

‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Cross. I have heard nothing more since we last spoke. They are trying to contact all the passengers on the flight that Cayla may have been on.’ As soon as they were in the suite they called Paddy again.

‘Nothing more for the moment,’ he told Hector. ‘Why don’t the two of you try to get some sleep? It looks as though you are going to have a hectic time over the next few days. I will call you again the minute I have anything new to report. I promise you that.’

‘All right. That’s what we’ll do, Paddy.’

H
ector reached out in his sleep, but although the sheet was still warm from Hazel’s body the bed beside him was empty. He was wide awake instantly and reached out to touch the pistol that always lay on the bedside table.

‘Hazel!’ he said sharply.

‘I’m here.’ She was standing by the window.

‘Come to bed,’ he ordered.

‘I thought I heard something.’

‘What was it? I heard nothing.’

‘You were asleep,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I was dreaming.’

‘Come to bed, my love.’

‘I have to use the bathroom, before I burst.’ She moved across the room, a slim silhouette against the moonlight coming through the windows. She went into the bathroom and switched on the light. She paused in surprise. There was something on her marble vanity top that had not been there when she went to bed. It was a large object with a loose white cloth draped over it. She crossed the room slowly and cautiously; then she saw that there was an envelope propped up against the package. It was embossed, the kind that usually contains a greeting card or a message from the giver, from a lover.

‘Hector!’ she whispered aloud. ‘He knows me so well; how I love presents from him. The darling is trying to comfort me.’ She picked up the envelope. It was not addressed, and the flap was not sealed. She opened it and slid out the card it contained, then stared at it in bewilderment. It was not written in English but in some eastern script.

‘Arabic?’ She was not certain. She looked down at the covered object, then reached out and took a corner of the cloth. She drew it aside, to reveal two large glass bell jars, the type in which laboratory specimens are preserved. Still puzzled, she stooped to make a closer inspection of the contents of the jars.

Then she screamed. It was an expression of the wildest, deepest anguish of the soul. She reeled backwards and fell to the white-tiled floor. On her hands and knees she scrambled to the further corner of the room and curled up there like a wild animal in a cage. She began to urinate in a hot gush down her legs. She opened her mouth to scream again, but a powerful projectile stream of yellow vomit shot out of her mouth and cascaded halfway across the tiled floor.

Her scream had electrified Hector. He bounded out of the bed and snatched up the pistol. As he raced across the bedroom he cycled a round of ammunition from the magazine into the breech. He burst into her bathroom with the pistol levelled in a double-handed grip. He crouched in the doorway covering the room. He saw her curled up in the corner, and smelled the reek of fresh vomit and urine in the air. He felt sick with dread.

She is hurt
, he thought,
wounded.
He went quickly to her and knelt at her side. ‘Hazel, what happened? Was there somebody here? Why are you so frightened?’ He put out his hand to her but she shied away from him, shaking her head and pointing at the vanity shelf. He turned quickly, with the pistol aimed and his finger resting on the trigger guard ready for a snap shot.

Then he saw the two bell jars. It took him a moment to understand what he was looking at. A disembodied human head floated in each jar filled with colourless preservative spirit. In the lefthand one was the head of Grace Nelson. Her eyes were closed and her skin was yellow with age, bagging and pouched. The thin silver strands of her hair were plastered across her face like seaweed. She looked very old, as if she had been dead a hundred years.

In the righthand jar was the head of Cayla Bannock. Her eyes were open. They seemed to be looking directly at him. They were no longer bright sparkling blue. They were dull and expressionless as pebbles. Her lips were slightly parted and her white teeth showed in the vestige of a cynical smile. Her skin was pale, but smooth and flawless. Her hair floated around her face in a golden cloud. It seemed as though she had just woken from a deep sleep. He knew if he looked upon her loveliness for another instant his heart would break.