The Stranger Within (29 page)

              Driving around for over an hour, I am too numb and dazed to notice my surroundings. My lies and deceit are suffocating me and being out here is just another one of them. There is no way I can be at home when the police get there. I was the last person to see Dillon so they are bound to have questions for me, and how long before I trip myself up?

              When I get back, it is nearly ten p.m. and James and Luke are huddled on the stairs. James looks up but I shake my head. Both of us know what this means. Luke’s eyes are red and his face is flushed. I have never seen him look so helpless and I want to hug him and tell him I’m sorry for everything. But then he looks at me and his eyes narrow. “This is all your fault. He’s gone because of you. Because you hate us!”

              “Luke, enough,” James says. “Just calm down. This has nothing to do with Callie and you know it. The police are looking for Dillon now, everything will be all right.” He looks at me and I can tell from his glassy eyes that he doesn’t believe his own words. “They’ve got all his details, Callie. We just have to wait now.”

Without a word I escape to the kitchen and put the kettle on. I know cups of tea won’t solve anything but I have to do something while the minutes tick away.

James joins me and paces around the room. “The police said he’s low-risk. They’ll talk to his friends and keep an eye out, but that’s about all they can do at the moment. Can you believe that? He’s a kid, for fuck’s sake!”

              I go to him and hold him against me, trying to keep his twitching body still. He wants to keep moving. “He’ll turn up, James.” It is a hopeless offering but what else can I say?

              When the doorbell rings I freeze. It must be the police again. But then I hear Emma’s voice, followed by Luke’s, both quiet and deflated. James pulls free and goes to greet her. At first I don’t follow, but fill another mug and take them out on a tray, with a Ribena for Luke.

              “Hello, Emma. Thanks for coming,” I say. I wonder if I sound like a robot or whether only I can tell my words are forced.

              She gives a nod, but doesn’t speak. I still haven’t cleared things up with her about Natalie and put her straight about Dillon’s lies, so I understand her wariness. Turning away from me, she pulls Luke into her huge body for a hug. He grips her tightly and even after everything I feel a pang of envy.

              We all head into the living room. It is almost Luke’s bedtime, and he has school tomorrow, but none of us mention this as we sit down.

              “So who saw him last?” Emma asks, looking straight at me.

              “Well, I didn’t exactly see him. He came home from school and I was upstairs in the study. And then he left without a word.”

              She turns back to James. “Shall we go out and look? It just feels wrong, sitting here doing nothing.”

              James mulls this over. “Callie’s already been but we could go again. As long as someone’s here. Callie, would you stay here with Luke in case he comes home or the police come back?”

              “No!” Luke says. “I’m coming with you.”

              James glances at his watch. “Well, okay.”

              Within minutes they are gone and I am wrapped in silence once again. But this time it is not peaceful.

              I walk around the house aimlessly, wondering how I can fill this void. Somehow it is worse to be left alone with my thoughts than to put up with Emma’s chilliness. I need to hear a friendly voice so I decide to call Bridgette. I don’t want to use the home phone in case anyone tries to call, but when I look for my mobile it isn’t in my bag, or in the kitchen, and I can’t recall having it with me when I drove around earlier.

              When I check upstairs, it is there in James’ study, underneath my textbook. I scoop it up and notice I have four missed calls and five text messages. All from Rhys. Without checking them, I delete every one. What if James had found my phone up here? How would I explain these messages? But I can’t think about Rhys right now. James and Emma will be back soon and I need to prove I am just as concerned as they are.

Chapter Thirty

Dillon has been missing for five days. There is a strange atmosphere in the house now, as if it knows something isn’t right, as if Luke and James’ anguish has seeped into the walls. Everything I do feels wrong: eating, making a cup of tea, even having a shower each morning. James looks at me through narrowed eyes and I know what he is thinking. How can I do normal things when we don’t know where Dillon is? When we may never see him again?

              James does none of these things. When he is not out searching, he is holed up in his study, printing posters with Dillon’s smiling face plastered all over them, or making desperate calls to the police for updates. Each time he speaks to them, they assure him that teenagers go missing all the time, and more often than not, turn up after a few days with humble apologies for their frantic parents. But no matter how many times he is told this, James remains fraught. He barely sleeps and all he eats is an occasional packet of crisps or the odd burger when he’s out on one of his searches.

              He calls Dillon’s phone several times a day, even though it has been switched off since he went missing, but all he ever gets is his son’s pre-recorded voice, the energy with which he speaks incongruous now.

              Emma is here every day, offering her futile support. And so is Tabitha. I don’t mind; James is in no state to concentrate on work or even call into the shop, so she has no choice but to come over to give him an update each evening. Of course she barely speaks to me, but this is not important.

              I can no longer keep track of the flurry of visitors passing through the house: friends, neighbours, even strangers, all offering their support. It is hard to say whether James is grateful for, or annoyed by, their warm wishes as each time someone shakes his hand, his face is impassive. He won’t speak about how he feels, but as long as he is doing something to help the search, he seems able to cope.

              It is Sunday morning and already the phone is ringing constantly. As soon as one of us puts it down, the bleeping starts again. Always another well-wisher or, just now, the police. They still assure us he will turn up and that they are keeping up their questions and search. I tell James it is a good sign that they are not more concerned. It means they have found nothing to suggest harm has come to Dillon, so we should cling to this thought. When he shakes his head, it doesn’t surprise me that he is not jumping to agree.

              Esme turning up or calling is a worry, but I learn through Rhys’ texts – most of which I ignore – that she is too worried to tell her father she was here that afternoon, for obvious reasons.

              What does surprise me this morning is Luke. I have just come in from the garden – another pointless attempt to see if Dillon was lying about Jazzy – and he is standing in his pyjamas, clutching his Nintendo DS to his chest as if it is a security blanket. He is twelve but at this moment he could easily be eight years old.

He inches towards me, staring at the floor. “Callie? He’ll come back, won’t he? I’ve tried to talk to Dad but he’s always busy. It’s not the same without Dillon here. It’s weird.”

              I fight back the urge to tell him it’s much better without Dillon. I am a terrible person for thinking this, however fleeting the thought.

              Luke plonks himself on a chair and looks up at me. He needs me; something I have been desperate for since I met the boys. For the first time, he is displaying trust in me. I’m shocked and pleased at the same time.

“It will all work out. He’ll come back and things will be better, I promise.” This is only half a lie, so I am able to smile at Luke as if I mean every word.

              Mrs Simmons arrives home from hospital at midday. I watch from the downstairs window as Duncan pulls up in his BMW. I almost laugh at how strange it looks: an elderly woman hobbling out of such a flashy car, but then I remember her face when she threatened to tell James what she had seen. What I said to her. With all the worry over Dillon, I have almost forgotten about her, but now she is back, I need to speak to her.

              While I am still standing at the window, Bridgette texts, asking if she can call me, and hearing the beep reminds me I haven’t had a text from Rhys today. But I don’t dare hope I have heard the last from him. He will not give up so easily. Perhaps he is just being considerate because Dillon is missing.

I type back
Yes, of course
and watch as it tells me my message has been delivered. Within seconds Bridgette is on the phone, apologising for not having called before now, for not having had time to meet up. “I’ve been so busy with work,” she explains, “and I hate myself for neglecting you. Especially when you’re dealing with all this.”

I know the truth is that Aaron is consuming her time, not just work, but I don’t say anything. She deserves happiness. I tell her it’s fine and she asks if I can meet this evening for food. When I explain I need to be at home for James, she insists we can make it quick, and that we can plan a strategy for searching for Dillon. “That’s doing something to help, at least, isn’t it?” she says.

              By the time we have made the arrangements and hung up, Duncan is already leaving, hurrying to his car and whizzing back to Exeter without a backward glance. Seeing this, I feel sorry for Mrs Simmons. He could at least have stayed for a bit longer and made sure she has settled in, but his quick exit leaves me the opportunity to go to her now and get this conversation over with.

              There is no answer when I slip next door and press her doorbell. I wonder if she is asleep, resting after her ordeal in hospital. I leave it a few seconds and then head round to the back, every step I take reminding me of Rhys, making me shudder.

              She is in her kitchen, sitting at the table with her back to the door. It is strange to see her in this position; she usually prefers to observe everything that is going on outside. I stop for a moment and take a deep breath. I have to be careful this time.

              “Oh, it’s you,” she says, turning around when I rap on the door. I can hear her clearly because the window is open. “I’m not up to visitors.”

              “I just wanted to check you’re okay. I saw Duncan leaving.”

              She shakes her head and I prepare myself for an attack, or maybe for her to shuffle off and leave me standing here. What I’m not prepared for is to watch her lift herself up, a grimace on her face as she does so, and hobble over to open the door. Without a word, she goes back to her chair and pulls the cup and saucer she has left on the table towards her.

              I’m not sure whether she wants me to come in so I hover by the door. “Are you okay?”

              She ignores my question. “Have they found him yet?” So she has already heard, probably from Duncan because I know James hasn’t seen her yet.

              “No. But we haven’t given up hope.” Why isn’t she talking about seeing Rhys and me together? Perhaps her head trauma has caused her to forget what she saw; why else would she not mention it? But can I really be getting off so lightly?

              “Poor boy. Poor James and Luke. When I think what they must be going through. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s run away because of…trouble at home.” She tries to slot her trembling fingers through the handle of her cup but it takes her a while and she emits a heavy sigh. So nothing has changed. She still hates me as much as she ever did.

              “Can I get you anything or do anything? Anything at all?”

              She snorts, lifting the cup to her thin, cracked lips. “No. Just tell James and Luke I’m thinking of them.”

              I tell her I will – ignoring her dig – and turn to leave.

              “Oh, just one other thing.” She shakes her head and breathes heavily. “I had a lot of time to think while I was in hospital. I don’t like you. I never have. But I’m not going to be the one to rip James’ life to shreds. You are responsible for that. We all get what we deserve in the end so I know you will. I don’t want any part of your life. Don’t come here again. If James sends you over, make an excuse.”

              Hearing this, I feel as if I have shrunk to the size of an ant. Without a word, I walk out, closing the door on Mrs Simmons, her words ringing loudly in my ears.

              Tabitha is at the house again when I get back. I have only been out for a matter of minutes, yet here she is in the hall, her arms wrapped around James, his head nestled on her shoulder. They pull apart when I open the door, James rubbing at his eyes, Tabitha watching me with a smirk. Even with all James is going through, she misses no opportunity to try and rile me, but I don’t take the bait.

“Hello, Tabitha,” I say, in my sweetest voice. “It’s nice to see you again.” James’ eyes widen for a second but then the familiar sadness wipes away his surprise.

              “Where did you go?” he asks. He looks at me with hope in his eyes, as if I am about to tell him I have found Dillon.

              “Just to check on Mrs Simmons.” For once I am not lying, yet it feels as though I am.

              “I was just making coffee. Do you want one?”