No Going Back (13 page)

‘But Amanda's often out and I don't mind. Anyway, I'd be at school, wouldn't I? They do have schools on Dartmoor, don't they?'

‘Yes, of course. Not actually on the moor, naturally, but nearby.'

‘And we could go walking together, with Taz. It would be fun.'

‘It would,' Daniel admitted unwarily, as much beguiled by the idea as his son.

‘Then why can't I come?' Drew's voice took on the pleading note that usually presaged tears.

‘I've told you why.'

‘But if we move back to Bristol, I'll hardly ever see you.'

Daniel caught his breath. ‘To Bristol?' he asked. ‘Is that what Mum wants to do?'

‘Yes. She says all her friends are there. She's been looking at houses, but I don't want to go, Dad. My friends are here now.'

Daniel silently swore. This was a new development, but in all honesty he should have seen it coming considering the rows the move to Taunton had provoked.

‘OK. Look, I'll have a word with her.'

‘When?'

‘Well, not now, obviously – it's way too late. Maybe tomorrow. Now I have to go, OK?'

‘Where?' The boy was momentarily diverted.

‘I'll tell you tomorrow,' Daniel promised. ‘I'll ring you. Now get to bed, for Pete's sake! It's a school day tomorrow.'

As he'd switched the phone off and stowed it in a pocket, he was aware that Kat was regarding him with curiosity.

‘I didn't know you have a son.'

‘Well, now you do,' he'd replied.

‘And you're married?'

‘Not any more.' Technically he was, but not in essence. ‘Look, are we going to do this, or do you want to spend the night making small talk?'

Kat had cast him a meaningful glance and got out of the car with no further comment.

Now, beside him, she shivered dramatically. ‘I'm freezing. What are we waiting for? This
is
the right tree, I'm sure of it.'

Daniel didn't doubt it. The trunk, silver in the moonlight, rose 20 feet or so before splitting into three massive branches, one of which grew out towards the dark bulk of the house and overhung the parapet that hid the roof from view.

He broke out in a cold sweat. What the hell was he doing here?

‘Daniel?' Kat was watching him anxiously.

Anxious that he might change his mind, Daniel thought, not anxious about the climb. He remembered her escape route the day he had chased her through the woods. She'd crossed the fallen tree over the gorge as if it were a pavement, 4 feet wide.

‘What did you do – in Romania, I mean?' he asked.

‘I was a gymnast. I was very good,' she said matter of factly. ‘I was training for the Olympics, but then I slip and hurt my foot and suddenly they are not interested any more.' She looked up at the tree. ‘That is finished. But we should go now. I will show you how. Just follow me.'

Just follow
– ye Gods! If only she knew.

Daniel waved a hand. ‘Lead on,' he invited airily. ‘But remember, I'm
not
a retired gymnast and nor am I Spiderman.'

A flash of teeth in the semi-darkness indicated a grin. Spiderman had obviously found his way into Romanian culture.

‘You'll be fine,' Katya assured him, and started to climb.

The first 15 feet or so proved no problem, even for Daniel. The vertical trunk was reassuringly solid, the hand and footholds not too widely spaced and – above all – there was no need to look down.

However, when Katya reached the fork in the trunk and started to climb up and out along the branch closest to the building, Daniel felt the beginnings of a cold wash of panic rising like a tide through his body towards his head.

Pausing, he closed his eyes for a moment. Quitting wasn't an option. He was almost sure that, having come this far, he wouldn't be able to call Katya back. She would find a way into the house on her own if he didn't follow her, and he couldn't let her do that.

‘Daniel!' she hissed. ‘Come on!'

He opened his eyes and focused on her lithe figure, some 10 feet above him. He wouldn't let her down. He had enough baggage on his conscience already.

Doggedly, he resumed the climb.

At the point where the branch split again, Katya moved out along the lower of the two, using the sub-branches from the upper as handholds. She made it look easy, stepping over and around branches that got in her way, steadily climbing the sloping timber as if she were two feet from the ground, not twenty.

Reaching the same point, Daniel paused, his resolve wavering, his shaking limbs seeming to lack the strength that would allow him to stand upright.

Helplessly he looked at Kat, who, apparently unaware of his predicament, was now just a few short feet from the parapet, and another wave of panic swept over him. He closed his eyes and hung on, his fingernails striving to dig into the bark of the tree and combat the lure of the frozen earth below.

How he made it through the next couple of minutes and across the intervening 8 feet or so, he would never know, but finally he was standing next to Kat, with the roof of the house less than 6 feet away and perhaps 4 feet below. The branch underfoot was still fairly solid, but the one he was using to keep his balance was disconcertingly mobile.

‘Just two or three steps and you can swing down,' Kat said encouragingly, and Daniel watched in horrified fascination as she proceeded to do so, landing soft-footed just beyond the stone parapet.

No way, Daniel's mind told him, as the branch, relieved of Katya's weight, rebounded under his feet, the leafless twigs rattling like dry bones. He closed his eyes once more, fighting the terror, until the movement slowed and ceased.

There was no way he could follow her, and yet returning the way he'd come was equally impossible. He had reached a mental and physical impasse.

An image of Drew flashed across his inner eye. Was his last memory of his father to be their recent telephone conversation in which, to the boy's eyes, he had been rejected once more?

There is nothing to fear except fear itself
. The phrase rose unbidden from Daniel's subconscious. The words of wisdom had been the favourite maxim of Sergeant Sid Dyer, his unofficial mentor during his first years on the force. He could almost hear the sergeant's deep rumbling tones.
Fear is the enemy, but it can only win if you let it.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, Daniel began to concentrate on the rhythm of his breathing, forcing his mind away from its paralysing obsession with falling.

‘Come on! What's the matter?' Katya whispered loudly.

He opened his eyes and saw her, leaning on the parapet, peering up at him.

‘Nothing,' he lied, shaking like a leaf.

Breathe in, breathe out. Move one foot and then the other. Focus on the mechanics of the task and forget the yawning emptiness below.

There was a moment, when he was over the roof of the house and had to transfer his grip from the higher branch to the lower, when his careful concentration faltered, but the goal was in sight and the panic successfully quelled with a deep, steadying breath.

A rush of cold air whooshed past his ears as he bent, grasped the branch and swung smoothly down, his knees buckling as his feet met the stonework sooner than he expected. Landing sprawling against the slope of the roof behind the parapet, for several seconds all Daniel could do was splay his fingers against the frosty slates and thank a God he wasn't sure he believed in for deliverance.

He opened his eyes and found Katya staring at him.

‘Why didn't you tell me you were afraid of heights?' she demanded accusingly.

‘What difference would it have made?' Daniel pushed himself to his feet, carefully not looking over the low stone parapet.

Katya didn't answer, but after a moment observed, ‘It's harder getting back.'

‘Well, thanks for that. Now where's this bloody window?'

SIX

T
he attic window, Daniel was pleased to find, was low on the slope of the roof and its loose catch and rotting wooden frame weren't proof against the multi-function penknife he produced from his pocket. Within seconds he and Kat had dropped down inside.

By the narrow beam of his pencil torch Daniel could see that the attic room was clearly being used as storage for surplus furniture. A sofa and cot were draped in dustsheets, and a stack of dining-room chairs stood beside the window. Two armchairs, a bookcase, a pile of roughly folded curtains and an assortment of cushions and lampshades reduced the floor space to a 2-foot-wide walkway that led from the window to the door. The contents of the room reinforced Daniel's supposition that Patrescu was probably renting the house.

Treading carefully, Daniel crossed to the door and tried the handle. He was mildly surprised to find it unlocked, having expected security to be stepped up after the sisters had escaped.

On the other side of the door, a quick scan of the area revealed no obvious CCTV equipment and cautiously they stepped out into a dark, narrow passageway, which stretched away to right and left with doors on either side. A threadbare floral runner was laid on floorboards that creaked a little underfoot. Daniel knew from questioning Katya that the corridor formed a square route round the top floor of the house, a floor that would once have housed the servants in the building's distant past, he guessed.

‘What else is up here?' he whispered.

Katya shrugged. ‘More rooms like that one,' she said. ‘And some with locked doors – maybe bedrooms? I don't know. We weren't allowed up here.'

They had started to move along the corridor towards the right-hand end, and as they turned the corner, Daniel saw one doorway with a keypad next to the frame. A small red LED flashed above it. He grabbed the sleeve of Katya's fleece-lined denim jacket, stopping her.

‘What's in here?'

‘I'm not sure. I think the studio.'

‘
Is
it now?' Daniel paused, looking thoughtfully at the keypad.

‘It's locked,' Kat said impatiently. ‘It always is. Come on. We have to find Elena.'

‘I just want to try something. It won't take a minute . . .'

‘
Daniel!
'

‘Sssh!'

Searching his memory, Daniel tapped in four numbers and mouthed a silent ‘Yes!' as the flashing red light turned green and the lock clicked open.

Cautiously Daniel turned the knob. The room was in darkness, and when they were both inside, he switched on the light.

‘How did you know the numbers?' Katya asked suspiciously.

‘It's the same as the code for the office downstairs. I took a chance,' he told her. ‘Well, well. Look at this little lot.'

The room
was
indeed a studio, and quite obviously not your average family portrait studio either. Centre-stage and surrounded by lighting equipment stood an enormous bed, opulently dressed in black and silver satin, with a handful of sheepskin throws scattered about. Four cameras stood around, set at varying heights. The filmmakers clearly weren't intending to miss any of the action.

‘They are making films?' Katya was staring at the bed, her lip curling.

‘Yeah, but not for general release,' Daniel said, taking a slimline digital camera from his inside pocket and switching it on.

‘What are you
doing
?' she hissed with growing impatience. ‘What about Elena?'

‘Just coming.'

Evidence-gathering was second nature to Daniel. You just never knew when it might be vital to a conviction. After taking a couple of shots, he glanced around the room, wishing he had time to investigate the cupboards and filing cabinets that were ranged against one wall, but a small sound from the direction of the door warned him that Katya's patience had expired. When he swung round, he saw that she'd left the room.

Cursing under his breath, he slipped the camera back in his pocket and followed. In the corridor, a flash of the torch showed her disappearing round the corner at the end. He hurried after her, not daring to call out or even run in the silence of the house.

Halfway along the next side of the square, he came upon a narrow flight of stairs illuminated dimly by a light on the floor below. Kat was already partway down and he risked hissing a furious ‘Wait!'

Katya looked up and, to Daniel's relief, did as she was told.

‘What the hell are you playing at?' he demanded as he caught up with her, stepping carefully near to the wall to minimize any creaking of the old treads.

‘I have to find Elena. That's what we came for.'

‘I know, but not like that. We must stay together. Now, let me go first.'

With a hint of sulkiness, Katya moved aside and Daniel went on down the stairs, pausing at the bottom to peer round the wall and check that the coast was clear.

‘Which way?' he whispered over his shoulder.

Katya indicated right with a movement of her head, and the two of them set off once more.

In marked contrast to the top floor, this corridor was wider and by far more luxurious. The carpet, though by no means new, had obviously once been expensive, and lighting was in the form of pairs of bronze art deco wall lights with glass shades shaped like lilies.

As far as Daniel could see, there were no watching lenses. He supposed the ones in the hall below recorded all conventional visitors.

Kat tapped him on the shoulder, pointed and headed to the second door along.

‘This was our room. They've put locks on now,' she whispered as Daniel caught up.

The lock in question was in fact no more than a crude hook and staple affair, and Kat lost no time in unfastening it and reaching for the handle. In an instant, Daniel's hand covered hers.

‘Be careful!'

Kat shook him off and quietly opened the door, the borrowed light from the passageway faintly illuminating four beds, all occupied by girls or young women. None of the sleepers showed any sign of stirring as Kat tiptoed from one to another, trying to see their faces. Daniel held his breath. All it would take would be for one of the girls to wake and cry out and they could be in real trouble.