‘Then you better get started,’ Holtwood snapped. ‘One more thing. Under no circumstances are you to tell anyone else where you’re going. Especially Annie and that man she’s with.’
‘Why not?’ I said. ‘Why not tell Annie?’
‘Surely you can work that out, can’t you, Lauren?’ Holtwood sneered. ‘I’ll call again at four.’ She rang off.
I gulped.
‘What’s going on, Lauren?’ Jam asked. ‘I could only hear bits of that.’
I told him what Holtwood had said.
Jam frowned. ‘How could Sonia Holtwood possibly know about Sam hiding something valuable for you in the London flat?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘The point is she’s not letting Madison go unless we find whatever it is.’
Jam shook his head. ‘Maybe we should call Rick?’ he said. ‘I’m sure when he understands how important it is, he’ll drive us to London.’
‘No.’ I stared past Jam towards the rubbish heap full of broken stones. I had a sudden flashback to the beach and how I’d watched the ice cream vendor leaning forward to hear Madison’s order. Though I hadn’t been able to see her face I was sure she would have smiled up at him, just as she had smiled at me, moments before. And now she was in the back of a van, separated from everyone she loved and who loved her.
I couldn’t bear it. I had to get her back – and as fast as possible. Whatever it took.
‘Sonia Holtwood said not to tell Annie or Rick.’ I hesitated. ‘Maybe . . . maybe she thinks Annie doesn’t want me to have whatever it is . . . maybe Annie’s been deliberately keeping this valuable thing away from me.’
Jam frowned. ‘I don’t believe Annie would do that,’ he said. ‘Especially now, with Madison’s life at stake.’
‘Yeah?’ My heart felt like ice.
‘Yes, and I also think Annie has a right to know what’s going on,’ he said stubbornly. ‘You’d want to know if the situation was reversed.’
‘But Annie’s crazy,’ I said. ‘Maybe she’s better off not knowing all the details. She can’t handle stuff like I can. In fact, she and I don’t do anything the same.’
‘You both love Madison,’ Jam persisted.
We stared at each other.
‘I’m right about this,’ I said. ‘I know I am. We have to go to London and find out what Sam hid there. And we have to keep quiet about it to Annie and Rick.’
Jam shook his head. ‘Man, you always think you’re right, don’t you?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘But I’m right about this.’
Jam checked his watch. ‘So how are we going to get to London?’ he said.
I indicated the track ahead of us. ‘According to Holtwood, that leads to a town where we can get a train.’
Jam stared at me. ‘I don’t have enough money for a train ticket.’
‘Me neither, but it’s fine.’ I pointed to the backpack. ‘There’s two million in there. We’ll use a bit of that. If there’s really something amazingly valuable hidden in the London house, a few quid out of this won’t make any difference.’
Jam’s face split into a smile. ‘Not only always right, but also insane,’ he said.
I grinned back, my stomach cartwheeling in spite of my fears for Madison and for what we were about to do. Even after all the time I’d known him, Jam’s smile still made me melt. Then I thought back to how he’d pulled away from my kiss.
The smile fell from my face. Again, I wondered . . . was he just helping me because he thought he ought to?
‘What?’ Jam’s eyes filled with confusion. ‘What’s up now?’
His phone beeped before I could say anything. He glanced at the text, then shoved the mobile away.
‘Who was that?’ I could hear the sharp edge in my voice and hated myself for letting my vulnerability show.
What did it matter what Jam thought or did? I was strong. If it came down to it I could survive without him.
‘It was Mum asking when I’ll be home.’ Jam rolled his eyes. ‘The usual.’
‘Right.’ We headed along the track but, as we walked, doubt crept through me. Was that really Jam’s mum? Or was it some other girl he didn’t want me to know about?
We walked into Annie and Sam’s London flat in Notting Hill at 1.40 pm. Though Annie had given me a key that I always kept on my key ring, I hadn’t been inside since Sam died, and the memories of him were overwhelming.
The main room was large and open-plan, with a kitchen area at one end. There was the soft, cream sofa Sam used to lie on, laptop in front of him, his forehead creased in a frown of concentration, working until Annie nagged him to stop. He used to wink at me sometimes when she got upset, as if to say: I know she’s emotional, but we can handle her. For a moment, I felt a surge of anger with Sam for not being here. He would never have gone to pieces, like Annie. If he were around he’d know exactly how to handle the kidnappers.
‘Where on earth do we start?’ Jam said, glancing around.
I gulped. The flat was neat and tidy – and it wasn’t large – but we were still facing an uphill struggle. I checked the time again. Sonia Holtwood had given us until 4 pm to search the entire apartment for anything valuable. That deadline was only just over two hours away. For the first time since Madison disappeared I felt totally isolated. I’d texted Annie from our train, reassuring her that Jam and I were fine and explaining in vague terms that we were following the kidnapper’s instructions for the next attempt at a handover. But Annie didn’t know about our two-hour deadline. Neither did Rick.
‘I don’t know where to start looking,’ I said, sinking into one of the sofas.
‘Well, I’m gonna try here.’ Jam opened the cupboard under the TV.
I glanced through the window to the small balcony which was the only outside space in the flat. Sam and Annie had bought the flat partly as an investment for me . . . somewhere for me to one day inherit. I had a sudden flashback to being here with Madison last year. We’d chatted on that very balcony about how one day we would live here together – with me working and Madison maybe at college in London.
My insides seemed to shrivel up. Up until Madison’s disappearance I had been so sure she’d be in my life forever. And now, here I was, facing a possible future without her.
‘This is hopeless,’ I said.
Across the room, Jam stood up. ‘Giving up so soon?’ He raised an eyebrow.
Was he sneering at me?
‘No, I’m not,’ I snapped. ‘You stay here. I’ll check out the bedrooms.’
I strode across the hallway and up the stairs. There were two bedrooms in the flat, each with their own bathroom. Annie and Sam used to sleep in one, with Madison in a fold-out bed by the wardrobe. Shelby and I were supposed to share the other room, though in practice Shelby hadn’t visited the flat much in the short time Annie and Sam had owned it. When they came to visit, she tended to stay behind with friends in the States. I headed for Annie and Sam’s room, opened the sliding door of the long, wooden wardrobe and pulled out an armful of shoeboxes.
My phone rang. I jumped, but it was only Mum. I let the call go to voice mail. I knew what the message would say without even listening to it: hope you are revising . . . call me . . . I wrote a quick text back saying I would ring later.
As I pressed send, I heard a scuffing noise outside the room. I looked up. There it was again. The sound of a hand trailing along the wall up the stairs. Was that Jam, following me up here?
‘Jam?’ I called out.
No reply.
I froze, as whoever it was reached the top of the stairs. Footsteps sounded across the short landing. Then stopped.
I tensed, my pulse racing. I looked round, desperately, for something . . . anything . . . I could use as a weapon. An open shoebox lay at my feet. I grabbed the shoe inside – an elegant stiletto of Annie’s – and clutched it in my hand.
‘Who’s there?’
Again, no reply.
I stood, arm raised, as the door creaked slowly ope
n.
10
Revelations
The door opened fully. I held my breath, my heart pounding. Shelby stood in the doorway, her mouth in an ‘o’ shape of shock.
‘You?’ I stared at her, lowering the stiletto. ‘What are you doing here?’
Shelby glanced at the shoeboxes lying open at my feet. ‘Why are you going through Mom’s stuff?’ she demanded.
No way was I going to take that accusing tone from her.
‘Why did you call the police?’ I snapped back. ‘What were you thinking? Madison could have been killed.’
Shelby met my gaze. ‘Don’t lecture me about Madison. It’s your fault she was taken in the first place.’ She paused. ‘Anyway, you haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?’
‘I’m looking for something,’ I said as icily as I could.
‘In Mom’s closet?’ Shelby raised her eyebrows.
I hesitated. Jam and I were up against a deadline here – so we could certainly use Shelby’s help – but how could I trust her after she’d gone to the police earlier?
‘I’m sorry, but it’s none of your business,’ I said.
‘It is so, you toxic cow.’
My mouth gaped. She was unbelievable.
Shelby put her hands on her hips. She was wearing cut-off jeans that did nothing for her rather short, stumpy legs. Her hair was unbrushed and pulled unattractively off her face in a loose ponytail and, as usual, her make-up was far too heavy.
I wanted to point out all of these things. I wanted to hurt her. But I bit back the scathing words that were itching to leap out of my mouth. I had to focus on Madison.
‘We can talk about who’s toxic when Madison’s home,’ I said calmly. ‘Right now I’m concentrating on rescuing her. Maybe you could do the same.’
Shelby’s lip curled with fury. ‘What has getting Madison back got to do with you poking around in Mom’s closet?’
‘I told you to mind your own business,’ I snapped. ‘You already ruined one exchange by running to the police. Luckily for you Mo’s all right, but if they’d killed her it would be your fault so I’m not telling you anything about what they want us to do now.’
‘Is Madison really OK?’ Shelby’s voice lost its harsh edge. ‘Mom showed me your text, but . . . did you speak to her?’
‘Like you care.’
Shelby’s lip trembled. She turned to walk away and bumped into Jam who just then appeared in the doorway.
‘Hey, Shelbs, I didn’t hear you come in.’ He frowned. ‘You come to help with the search?’
Shelby blushed. ‘Lauren doesn’t want me to.’
Jam glanced over at me. ‘That’s stupid, Lazerbrain. We don’t have much time, we should use all the help we can get.’
Anger rose inside me. How dare Jam side with Shelby?
‘How did you know where we were?’ Jam turned back to Shelby.
‘This.’ Shelby held out her phone to him.
Jam took in whatever was on the screen and looked up at me.
‘She’s had a text from the kidnappers, Lauren,’ he said. ‘Telling her the same as you.’
‘What?’ I said. ‘Why didn’t you say so?’
Shelby shrugged. ‘They just told me to come and search the flat for some valuable thing Dad left me,’ she said.
A wave of jealousy washed over me.
I hated myself for it. After all, finding and rescuing Madison was what really mattered – but it wasn’t fair. Shelby had been Sam’s daughter all her life. I’d only really known him for a year before he died. If he’d left both of us something then it wasn’t specially for me.
‘So if you knew about these supposed valuables then you already knew what I was looking for?’ I glared at her.
Honestly, she was impossible.
Shelby gave me a sulky look back.
‘I’m surprised you haven’t shown that text from the kidnappers straight to the police,’ I said, acid in my voice.
‘How did you get here?’ Jam asked.
‘I took the train, same as you,’ Shelby explained.
‘Annie’ll be worried sick,’ I said reproachfully.
‘She thinks I’ve gone out for the afternoon with a friend visiting from home. Rick persuaded her to let me go. Said I needed the break. Anyway . . .’ Shelby looked away. ‘Mom’s mad at me for calling the police.’
‘Your mum’s just upset because of Madison.’ Jam patted Shelby’s arm. ‘It’s not your fault.’
Shelby smiled gratefully at him. ‘I feel real bad about all that,’ she said in a low voice.
‘You mean you admit you were wrong to go to the cops?’ I said.
Shelby pressed her lips together, her face mutinous. ‘I’m not saying that,’ she said.
Jam rolled his eyes. ‘May I remind you both that we have very little time to find out if there’s anything valuable here, so maybe we should get on with it?’
Jealousy rose inside me again. It was one thing Jam telling me off when we were alone. But it was humiliating to do it in front of Shelby.
‘Fine,’ I said, not making eye contact with either of them. ‘Why don’t you take the other bedroom, Shelby? I’ll carry on looking in here.’
‘Whatever.’ Shelby disappeared from view.
Jam was still standing in the doorway, but I turned my attention to the pile of boxes at my feet. I sensed him waiting there for a few seconds, but when I finally looked up he was gone.
I tried to lose myself in the search – to put my anxiety about Madison, my irritation with Jam and my dislike of Shelby all out of my mind.
As I systematically pored over every inch of the wardrobe, my brain was still working at ninety miles an hour. I didn’t understand why the kidnappers had suddenly decided to involve Shelby. Maybe they thought approaching her directly would make her think twice about blabbing to the police again. Or maybe they’d always intended to involve us both if the original exchange failed.
I couldn’t work it out.
There was definitely nothing in the wardrobe. It wasn’t full – just a few dresses and coats of Annie’s at one end – and some of Sam’s polo shirts and jeans at the other. This wasn’t surprising, of course. Annie and Sam only bought the apartment in order to have a base to stay in when they visited me in London.
I found an old leather jacket of Sam’s in the far corner, where it had fallen off its hanger. I searched its pockets, which were empty, then pressed it to my face.
The lemony scent of Sam’s aftershave filled my nostrils, cutting through the dense smell of the leather. I suddenly hurt with the loss of him. Aside from Madison, I’d always got on better with Sam than with anyone else in my birth family. He was far more laid-back than Annie – kind and sweet with Madison and he always treated me as a grown-up.
I put the jacket on a hanger and placed it carefully back on the rail. I rummaged through a pile of jumpers, two drawers of underwear and a stack of CDs.
There was nothing here of any value, as far as I could see.
I turned to the rest of the room. I could hear Shelby banging about in the bedroom opposite. Jam was silent downstairs.
Sighing, I crossed the room to the first of the two bedside drawers. One was full of clutter: a stack of romance novels, a nail file, some eyelash curlers and two tubes of hand cream.
Guessing this was Annie’s side of the bed, I crawled over the duvet to the other. Everything was clean and dusted – Annie must pay a cleaner to come in regularly. The second bedside drawer was neater, simply containing a bundle of bank statements, a few receipts and some yacht magazines. Definitely Sam’s stuff.
I sat on the bed and pored over the papers. Weird to think Sam must have been the last person to touch them, just shoving them in this little drawer and imagining he would one day soon come back to them. There was nothing of any value in here. Even the bank statements only referred to relatively tiny amounts of cash – just a few hundred quid going in and out over several months.
I put the pap
ers back in the drawer. But I couldn’t lay them flat. There was something right at the end of the drawer. I felt inside and drew out a small metal box. It was locked and there was no sign of a key.
I hesitated, then shook the box. Nothing rattled or clinked. Whatever was inside must be well padded. It could easily be jewellery – or cash.
I had to find out what was there. Grabbing one of the nail files from the other bedside drawer, I prised open the lid.
Two white envelopes lay inside.
I picked them up. They were flat and light – no bulky objects inside.
One envelope was addressed to Shelby, the other to me. Neither was properly sealed.
I laid Shelby’s envelope on the bed and picked up mine. With trembling hands, I unfolded the piece of paper inside: one side of A4, in Sam’s elegant handwriting.
Dear Lauren
What I have just told you will have come as a shock but now you are old enough to know the truth. I never wanted to lie but Annie thought it was for the best and – once you had been taken from us – the decision was out of our hands.
I am writing this letter so that the facts are down on paper, for you to come back to once the initial shock has worn off.
My heart thumped. Clearly Sam had written this letter assuming I would read it after a conversation that, thanks to his death, had never taken place. I read on.
I’m always happy to talk about what we did and why. This letter is not a substitute for any future conversations, just an attempt to offer some clarity. I hope you will understand.
As you now know, you are not my biological daughter.
I stopped reading. What? It couldn’t be true. Every cell in my body screamed out against the words on the page.
Sam wasn’t my birth dad?
How could that possibly be true? Everything I’d done two years ago to find Annie and Sam had been based on needing to know who my real parents were. And I had found them. It had taken a flight to America and a bus ride through Vermont after which I’d been lied to, kidnapped and left for dead in a desolate, snow-laden forest . . . but I had found them. My birth mum and dad.