LITMIR.BIZ

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took some deep breaths, and Charlie could see some anger in his eyes, that his own son knew some of the answers but had kept them from him. But Ted’s furrowed brow showed he was wrestling with his feelings, because he understood why Jake had kept quiet, because he had tried to protect Alice’s memory.

      ‘Who’s the girl?’ Ted said. ‘Marie?’

      ‘Marie Cuffy,’ Jake said. ‘She was a friend of Alice’s from the sixth form, but Marie had changed. I suppose Alice had, but all of Alice’s other friends had gone away too, and so Marie was someone to hang round with when she was home.’

      ‘Find me a picture.’

      Jake left the room, and Charlie listened as he rummaged in what he guessed was Alice’s room. When Jake came downstairs again, he was holding a photograph. ‘That’s her,’ he said, pointing to a picture.

      As Charlie looked, he saw an attractive young woman, her eyes flirty, smiling with Alice, each holding beer bottles in their hand.

      ‘When was the last time you saw her?’ Charlie said.

      ‘I haven’t seen her since Alice died.’

      ‘We need to find her,’ Ted said, tapping the photograph. ‘She knows something about Alice. Jake, do you know where she lives?’

      Jake nodded and gave an address. ‘That’s where her parents live.’

      Charlie’s thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of his phone in his pocket. He checked the number. It was Donia’s.

      ‘Hello?’ Charlie said, expecting to hear her voice, ready for the next stage of deceit.

      ‘Mr Barker,’ said a deep voice. Charlie recognised it from the hallway of Donia’s flat.

      Charlie swallowed. His mouth had gone dry. ‘What do you want?’

      ‘You know what we want.’

      ‘Tell me.’

      ‘The videotape of Billy Privett. We’ve got the discs, but we want the original tape.’

      He felt the hot flush of anger creep up his cheek, mixed in with helplessness about how it was all out of control. ‘You killed Amelia. Why should I do anything for you?’

      ‘Because we’ve got something you want.’

      ‘You’ve got nothing I want.’

      ‘Haven’t we?’ the voice said, and then he laughed, loud and mocking. ‘What about poor little Donia here?’

      ‘The work experience girl you put into my firm. Very clever, but I’m not falling for that.’

      ‘If you knew the truth about Donia, you would help. The tape. Bring it, and it must be you. Call me when you’ve got it. I’ll give you an hour. Then we start to kill her, slowly.’

      His phone went dead, and he looked at it in disbelief. And what did he mean about Donia? The truth?

      Charlie remembered that he had grabbed Donia’s CV before he left the office. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper. It looked routine, headed with her name, Donia Graham. He doubted its truth, but there was a phone number.

      He dialled the number and waited as it rang out. When the phone was answered, a timid voice said, ‘Hello?’

      Charlie put the phone against his chest for a moment, just to think about what to say, and then, ‘Mrs Graham?’

      ‘Miss,’ she said. ‘Miss Graham.’ Her flat Yorkshire vowels were given some lift by the lilt of the Caribbean.

      He took a deep breath. ‘Is it Donia’s mother?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘It’s Charlie Barker,’ he said. He expected Donia’s plan to unravel now, because he doubted she was the real Donia.

      Instead, he heard just a gasp. He waited for her to say something, anything that would kick-start the conversation, but she said nothing.

      ‘Miss Graham?’

      ‘It’s Wilma, you know that,’ she said, her voice stronger now. Then she sighed. ‘I’m sorry to hear about your business partner.’

      ‘She told you?’

      ‘Yes, she was quite shaken by it.’ There was a pause, and then, ‘Has she told you?’

      Charlie was confused. ‘I’m sorry, told me what?’

      ‘About her. And me.’

      ‘I don’t understand.’

      Another pause. ‘You don’t remember me?’

      Charlie was getting exasperated now. ‘I’m not calling about you. It’s about Donia.’ And then he realised what she had said. ‘What do you mean, why don’t I remember you?’

      ‘Hasn’t Donia said anything to you?’

      Charlie closed his eyes. She sounded genuine, and so the possibilities started to race through his head. The scene at the flat, the members of the group there, and now the phone call, the demand for the videotape and the threat to kill Donia. He had it wrong, and she wasn’t a plant. She was just a young law student getting some experience, which meant that the threat was real. He felt nauseous.

      ‘Do you know anything about an anarchist group near Oulton?’ Charlie said.

      ‘No. Why should I?’ Her voice started to crack. ‘Why, what’s happened?’

      Charlie wanted to put off the moment, knowing what he was about to say would wreck her, but he knew that he couldn’t.

      ‘The same people who killed my business partner have got Donia,’ he said quietly.

      Wilma let out a whimper. ‘Got? What do you mean?’

      ‘Just that,’ he said. ‘They called me and told me they have her.’

      ‘And they’re going to hurt her?’

      He paused again, wished that he could end the call and not say it, but he knew that he couldn’t. ‘Yes, that’s what they told me.’

      Wilma’s voice turned into a scream. He moved the phone away from his ear and put his head in his hand. He let her shout, and she was shouting at him, saying that he was supposed to look after her.

      ‘Call the police, Wilma, please.’

      ‘I told her to stay away from you, Charlie Barker! I tried to tell her not to, that it wouldn’t end well, but she wouldn’t listen, and now she’s in danger.’

      Charlie thought about telling her that it wasn’t his fault, but it wasn’t the right time to talk about blame.

      He tried to speak calmly. ‘The person who spoke to me said that there was something about Donia that would make me help them. What did they mean?’

      Wilma went quiet for a few seconds, and then she said something that sent everything into background noise, blurred, out of focus, the words burning into him like a slap.

      ‘Charlie,’ she said. ‘Donia is your daughter.’

       Chapter Forty-Six

      John was outside the old man’s room. There were screams and sobs from upstairs, the sounds of Henry with Dawn, and people digging outside. Arni was on the telephone, and he heard what he said about the girl they had brought back with them, that her name was Donia.

      He pushed at the door so that it swung open gently. The old man didn’t look up, but the girl did.

      Donia was fastened to a metal strut on the bedstead, a chain wrapped around her wrist and made tight with a padlock. As John went over to her, she shrank back, her feet pushing against the floor, as if

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