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  ‘I have to go,’ I said. This visit had been a waste of time, even though Ion had confirmed my theory about the drugs. I still couldn’t remember where I’d seen Gabor and Ion was no help.

  There was a question that had been bugging me for ages. I decided to ask Ion before I went. ‘Why did you and Camelia return my laptop?’ I asked.

  ‘Huh? We didn’t. I bought myself a nice new one with your card, but Camelia had your old one.’

  ‘So she returned it?’

  ‘No. She sold it.’

  ‘But . . . it ended up back in my flat. It’s the same computer.’

  Ion gave me a blank look.

  ‘Who did she sell it to?’ I asked quickly. The nurse had turned around and was walking towards us, a stern expression on her face.

  Ion thought about it for an agonisingly long moment. The nurse was almost at the bed. ‘Some old guy she met at the pole-dancing club. She sold your PS4 and iPad to him too. She was laughing about the idea of this old guy playing Call of Duty—’

  I interrupted him. ‘The old man she sold my laptop to—was it Gabor?’

  ‘I don’t know. I never saw him. But he was Romanian, like us. That’s all I know.’

  ‘Excuse me, you’re not allowed to be here.’

  The nurse folded her arms across her chest, tapped her foot.

  ‘One moment.’ I grabbed Ion’s arm. His skin felt cool, clammy. The nurse moved towards me. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. I remember now. She said she sold it to a man who had been harassing her at work. She said it was a weird coincidence: the day after we . . . came to your flat, he asked her if she knew anyone with a laptop for sale, because he needed one.’

  No such thing as coincidences, I thought.

  ‘It must be Gabor. He must have been watching her . . . Saw her come out of my flat . . .’

  ‘I really must ask you to leave,’ the nurse said. ‘I’m about to call security.’

  I looked up at her, so stunned by what Ion had said about the laptop that I could hardly see her. But I became aware of another person walking towards us. The policewoman. And behind her, Edward, gesturing for me to come.

  I jumped up from the plastic chair, ducked past the nurse, swerved around the policewoman before she could challenge me and grabbed Edward’s arm, thumping the door release button with my palm and pulling him out into the corridor. We ran down the steps, our footsteps echoing dully behind us.

  ‘What did you tell the policewoman?’ I asked.

  He waved a hand. ‘Oh, that I’d just seen someone steal an old lady’s bag. I led her on a wild goose chase through the hospital. I am going to be in so much shit if they find out what we were up to. You know I rely on the police in my work?’

  ‘Do you want to know what Ion told me?’

  We reached the bottom of the stairs and headed through the lobby.

  ‘My laptop. Camelia didn’t return it to my flat—she sold it to Gabor.’

  He stopped walking. ‘What?’

  ‘He must have returned it. How did he get a key to my flat? Jesus, it’s like every-fucking-body had a key. Half of fucking Romania was waltzing in and out!’

  ‘Why would he return it?’ Edward asked as we exited the hospital. ‘You checked it for spyware, didn’t you? When it first reappeared?’

  ‘Yes. But . . . Oh shit.’

  ‘What?’

  I broke into a run towards the car.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Laura stared out at the motorway. Since leaving London they had driven in what was pretty much a straight line, through Essex, the devil sticking to the fast lane whenever he could, the speedometer nudging 100 mph. Then they hit traffic and the devil hissed and cursed, rhythmically rapping the steering wheel with his knuckles as the car crawled forward.

  Oscar, thank God, was asleep, his face against her chest, occasionally making a little snuffling noise that broke her heart. He had cried himself to sleep as they left London, the devil growing increasingly irritated. Laura had rocked and shushed the baby, telling the devil the baby needed milk, that he was hungry.

  ‘There’ll be milk when we get there,’ he said.

  ‘He’s breast-fed,’ she dared to say. ‘He won’t drink formula.’

  The devil snorted. ‘He’ll soon drink it if he’s hungry.’ He turned and looked through the gap in the seats, staring blatantly at her chest, making her skin creep. ‘He wouldn’t get much of a meal from those. Good hips though. Healthy, physically at least. Your tits will grow when the time comes.’

  Alina sat in silence through all of this, staring straight ahead. Like she really was a ghost, an apparition. Laura could smell her though. Stale sweat. The stink of fear coming from her pores. Not a ghost. Real. And if Alina was real flesh and blood, it followed that the old man driving the car was not a supernatural being either. He was just a man.

  They were stuck in traffic for a long time, the old man’s impatience growing every minute. At one point, Laura thought he was going to get out and punch the car in front. Finally, they started moving again. Laura counted the cat’s eyes in the road to calm herself down. When she was a child she would play a game where she would count white cars and red cars on family trips. If red cars outnumbered white, something bad would happen: she would fall ill, one of the girls who bullied her at school would be extra vicious. If white won, something good would occur: her mum would leave her alone for a day, Beatrice would visit her.

  There was no point counting cars today. The worst had happened. She had resigned herself to it. Her only hope now was that she could protect Oscar. If she could somehow persuade this old man to return him to Erin and Rob, she would do whatever the devil asked. She would accept her punishment.

  They turned off the M11 and skirted past Bishop Stortford, heading further east. Laura saw a sign for Hatfield Forest and soon they were turning onto a quieter road, then another, lined by jagged trees. The beam of the headlights illuminated them as they reached out towards the car with bare, spindly branches. Beyond the headlights’ beam lay the deepest, blackest night.

  They headed further into the forest. Laura clamped her eyes shut, held Oscar against her. She could hardly breathe. The car slowed and she opened an eye, saw that they were approaching a large house half-concealed by ancient trees. Oscar squealed and she realised she had squeezed him.

  Beside her, Alina looked equally stricken. The ghost of a ghost.

  The car drew to a halt outside the house and the devil killed the engine, leaving the headlights shining.

  Laura could hear Alina breathing. Strangely, witnessing the Romanian woman’s fear made her feel braver, forced her to assume the role of the strong one. The car’s lights revealed a period house with white painted walls, a house that had stood here for such a long time that it felt like an organic part of the forest. It appeared to be in some disrepair, cracks in the window, the roof sagging in places. There were no other houses in sight.

  ‘Just like home,’ the old man said. He grinned at Laura, then turned his attention to Alina. Although his accent was thick, he spoke perfect English, like someone who had been studying it for a long time. ‘You thought you’d escaped me, didn’t you?’

  Alina refused to look at him.

  ‘Remember when I came to take little—what did you call him?—Luka away? We should have killed you then. Dragoș was growing weak, as was his seed. Unless it’s you who are barren.’ His smile was cruel. ‘We shall soon see. I’m going to do the job myself now.’ He rubbed his groin. ‘Still life in this old dog.’

  Laura thought she might vomit. She struggled to make sense of what the man was saying. But it was clear he was connected to the house, that terrible place.

  The man shifted his gaze to Oscar, forcing Laura to focus on the present moment.

  ‘This one will fetch an excellent price. I already know a coup
le who will be interested. A Russian couple, old acquaintances, who’ve moved to London. Too old to have a baby themselves now.’

  Laura heard Alina whimper. Or had she made the noise herself? She wrapped her arms protectively around the baby. ‘What are you talking about?’

  It was cold in the car now the engine was off, and the man’s breath plumed as he spoke. There was a gleam in his eyes that chilled Laura more than his words. He had the air of someone who believes himself to be invincible.

  ‘Your friend here killed my son. A bastard, but still, my son. She ruined everything. You know how long we lived in that house, happily running our business? Twenty-four years. Since I was forced to flee my job because of the fucking revolution.’

  Alina looked up at that point, her mouth slightly open, revealing the gap in her front teeth.

  ‘Before that, it was a good time to be a policeman. A powerful position. So many women.’ He said this wistfully, and went on, entranced by his own story. ‘Most of the babies that I fathered went to the orphanages but when Dragoș’s mother became pregnant I was starting to think about my legacy. When the baby turned out to be a boy I decided to keep him. The mother was . . . a bigmouth, never knowing when to shut this.’ He pointed at his own thin lips. ‘So, after she . . . died, I bought the old house in Hunedoara and sent Dragoș to live there with my mother, God rest her soul. She raised him. And then, years later, at the same time Dragoș came of age, the revolution happened. And I disappeared.’

  His eyes shone in the darkness. Laura was reminded, in a perverse way, of her granddad, who never passed up the chance to reminisce. ‘It was boring at first. So dull, after all the excitement of my job. But then one day, when Dragoș was a teenager, something wonderful happened. Can you guess?’

  He looked from Laura to Alina and back, then gave a disgusted grunt. ‘No imagination! A pair of hikers appeared at our house. A young man and woman, lost in the forest, like Hansel and Gretel. They came to the door, asking for directions. So I strangled him and then Dragoș and I had fun with the girl. It was about time Dragoș lost his virginity.’ He paused. ‘Hmm. I can’t remember if we made Hansel watch while we screwed Gretel. But anyway. I decided to keep her, so we finally had something to entertain us. It was fun.’

  Laura swallowed hard. Oscar wriggled again on her lap.

  ‘And then,’ he said, as if he was growing tired of the story, ‘Gretel became pregnant. Maybe my baby, maybe Dragoș’s. I was going to kill her but then had an idea. A stroke of genius. We were running out of money. And I was so bored, even with a nice young girl to fuck. I went back to some old contacts, people who had clung to their wealth. And the rest, as the saying goes, is history.’

  Alina spoke up, making Laura jump. ‘You’re a monster too. Like your son.’

  He laughed. ‘She speaks! No. I am a businessman. There is a demand, so I supply it.’

  Laura reached out and took Alina’s hand, squeezing it gently. After a moment’s hesitation, Alina squeezed back.

  ‘You have spirit, I’ll give you that,’ he said to Alina. ‘I knew you would come here, to England. Because you wanted revenge, didn’t you?’ He pointed at Laura. ‘She wanted revenge against you, for going without her. For leaving her to rot. Isn’t that right, Alina?’

  The Romanian women cast her eyes downwards. She didn’t reply.

  ‘Constantin, that fuck, lied to me. You witnessed it, Alina. He blatantly lied, because he didn’t want me to know about the drugs he’d found in your backpack, Laura. He paid the price for that. I buried him in the forest. The last thing he said, thinking the information would save him, was your and your boyfriend’s names.’

  He reached out and stroked Oscar’s downy hair. ‘This little one wasn’t part of my plan. He’s a bonus. Another sign from God.’ He stroked the baby’s head again and Laura fought the urge to snatch Oscar away, to cover him with her body. ‘I was excited to find the baby in your care, Laura, his parents asleep in their bed.’

  Laura hugged Oscar against her. She had been trying to work out why the old man had taken her back to Erin and Rob’s after finding her in that squat. She had thought it must be because he was targeting the baby, but if he now spoke of Oscar as a bonus . . .

  ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘Why take me back if you weren’t planning to snatch Oscar?’

  The old man grinned and pointed a finger at Alina. ‘Because this naughty girl has been hiding from me. I’ve been waiting for her to show herself.’

  Laura understood. When she’d told Alina about the devil rescuing her from Ion and the other Romanian girl, Alina had finally come out from her hiding place—revealing herself to the man who was hunting her.

  She snapped out of her reverie as she heard the old man speak again.

  ‘Alina, you destroyed what I had in Romania. But it’s fine.’ He smiled like a wolf. ‘I can start again. Here in England. And I already have my first little piglet to take to market.’

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  I asked Edward to make coffee while I booted up the laptop. While I waited, I grabbed a sheet of printer paper and attempted to draw a Venn diagram, with stick figures representing the players in this drama. In one circle, the Romanian would-be drug dealers, Ion and Alina and Camelia. In another circle, Gabor and his unnamed accomplice, the man at the house. On the periphery, unwittingly drawn into the drama, Erin and Rob and Oscar. The policeman, Constantin, was there too, as was Edward. And in the centre, where all these circles intersected, were Laura and me.

  Camelia had sold the laptop to Gabor. It had to be him. There were no other old Romanian men in the picture. I knew how Ion’s group had gained access to my flat: they had the set of keys they took from Laura’s backpack. I didn’t know how Gabor got a key. Maybe he’d picked the lock. For now, it didn’t matter.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Edward asked, sitting down beside me.

  ‘Checking my spyware.’

  ‘But you already did that, didn’t you?’

  ‘I know. But only when the laptop was first returned. I didn’t tell you about another weird thing that happened.’ I told him about the photographs from the train that had vanished before my eyes.

  ‘For God’s sake, Daniel, why didn’t you tell me about that before?’

  ‘I was afraid that I’d imagined it. That I was losing my mind.’ If I wasn’t crazy, there was only one possible explanation for the way the pictures had vanished. In the hospital car park, trying to work out Gabor’s motive for returning the computer, I had remembered what had happened immediately before I saw the photos that vanished: I’d received the email with the kitten picture from Laura. Except I was willing to bet that it hadn’t really been from Laura. If I’d looked closer at the time I would no doubt have seen that it had come from an email address set up in Laura’s name. And the picture of the kittens had contained what I was now looking for. Gabor must have guessed I’d check my laptop for viruses when it was mysteriously returned—so he’d delivered the virus later.

  I explained this to Edward as we waited for my virus-checking software to scan my machine.

  Then it stopped. An alert flashed up on the screen.

  I put my face in my hands. ‘Fuck.’

  ‘What just happened?’ Edward asked.

  I tapped the laptop screen. ‘There it is. Spyware.’ I turned my head to look up at him. A piece of software on my laptop that gave someone else remote access to the computer. They could see everything I typed. They could add and delete files.

  ‘Can they see what you’re doing now?’ Edward asked.

  I returned to the keyboard. A minute later I said, ‘OK. I’ve blocked the connection. But they’ll be able to see that I’ve blocked it. If they’re looking right now, they’ll know I’m onto them.’

  ‘And can you trace them? Find the other person’s computer?’

  ‘Let’s see.’

  While I
worked, Edward called Rob and Erin’s house and spoke to PC Davies, asking how the couple were doing.

  ‘What did she say?’ I asked after he’d hung up, not looking up from the screen. I was getting close. Gabor’s computer was still trying to connect to mine and I was trying to find the IP address of that computer.

  ‘Erin’s gone to sit in the nursery, staring at Oscar’s cot. Rob’s gone out to search. Apparently, he couldn’t bear to stay in the house doing nothing. The police have already gone door to door to talk to all the neighbours . . .’

  ‘Did any of them see anything?’

  ‘She wouldn’t tell me much. But Rob’s got most of these neighbours out of their houses, and they’re going round the adjoining streets . . .’

  I continued to type into the Command box, edging closer to finding that IP address.

  ‘Davies said they’ve shown Laura’s photo on the news. It’s all over the web. People on Twitter are going crazy, calling her a baby snatcher, sharing her picture . . . The whole country is looking for her.’

  I winced. ‘That’s so wrong. She wouldn’t have taken him.’

  I returned to the screen, tapping commands into the box, edging closer. Gabor appeared to be using some out-of-the-box hacking software, not particularly sophisticated. He’d probably bought it off some kid on the dark web.

  ‘Got it,’ I hissed.

  ‘It?’ Edward asked, sitting up straight.

  ‘The IP address. Right . . .’

  I went onto the web and pasted the IP address, a string of numbers, into a specialist website. The result came back within seconds, giving me the region along with the longitude and latitude.

  ‘It doesn’t give me the exact address, but . . .’

  I opened Google Maps and brought up the area in which the IP address was located. My eyes met Edward’s.

  ‘Back to the forest,’ I said, and a chill rippled across my skin.