The Day She Disappeared by Christobel Kent

Author:Christobel Kent
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux

Chapter Nineteen

As she shoved Craig ahead of her into the back seat, bringing a sharp metallic smell with him, of sweat and unwashed skin, Don gave Nat a questioning look in his rearview mirror, but she shook her head quickly, just once.

“Where to, then?” he asked, shifting out of her line of sight as he engaged gear.

“Like I said,” she said. “Brandon.”

“Outside the church, then?” Head half turned.

“Please.” They moved off.

Craig seemed to fill the taxi’s hoovered, pine-scented interior, crowding it out with his long legs and his lank hair and his prison smell. Could she handle him, if she had to, if she was alone? Probably not. He was restless, he was angry. She turned on him, tough.

“Where have you been, Craig? Your mother’s terrified something’s happened to you,” she said. He mumbled. “What?”

“I called her,” he said. Nat leaned back in the seat, exhaling angrily. “They talked to me,” Craig said, his voice dead. He seemed older, by years. “The police.”

“I’ve just come from the police station,” she said. “They told me. They said they’re going to look for Beth. They said it’s a woman’s blood, on those rags.”

“Her.” His voice was level with anger. “It’s him that’s dead,” he said. “It’s Ollie.” His chin thrust toward her. “This is all down to her.” He was unshaven, his eyes bloodshot. She felt herself push back into the corner, trying to get as far away from him as she could. The driver was still there, though, in the mirror. She forced herself out of the corner.

“Something’s happened to her.” Her voice shook.

“What if that’s all in your head?” muttered Craig, savage. Avoiding her eye. “She sent him those messages.”

“What?” She heard herself as if from a distance, whispering. “They were from Beth?” she said, incredulous. “It wasn’t her, it can’t have been her.” Hardly even knowing what she was saying. “She’s … the police have got her phone now. She left it behind.”

He turned toward her and his face changed, stiffened into something else. “What?” Then shaking his head. “Nah—I’m talking, from way back. Way back. A year ago.” Staring at the back of the driver’s head, Craig wouldn’t look at her: she could see him thinking, though.

Eventually he spoke again, in a monotone. “He showed me them. The texts. It was her, all right, it was Beth, you could tell it was her, I know her style. Suggesting stuff, you know, hinting. There was a picture … well, he said she’d sent him a picture.” His face was drawn. She remembered Ollie, that boy’s face, a quiff sticking up, lovely skin. A smile that could get any girl, if only he knew it. “He never showed me the picture. But every time he thought he was in there…” He smacked his palms together. “‘Oh, no, it’s not real. Just having fun.’ Or ‘Not tonight, not this weekend, I’ve got someone coming over.’” He drew a breath, bitter. “Or ‘My mum’s sick.’” In a nasty little whiny voice that shocked Nat.

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