The Cold Road (Book 1)

Chapter Twenty-Two

A red light flashed on the answering machine at home. There were three messages. James glanced briefly at the machine, reminded himself that it was not his house, or his phone, and left it. Neither of his housemates were around and he did not know where they were.

The fridge lay empty of left overs but full of food that could be fashioned into a meal. The TV remote was lost and James's mind was too wound up to find it or take the time to cook. He walked back into the lounge and pressed play on the answering machine; if it was important he would just take it down on a piece of paper and leave it for Wallace to find.

While the machine rewound itself to the beginning and set about playing, James returned to the kitchen to forage. An elderly woman's voice scratched itself through the speaker; it sounded oddly familiar to James.

'Good afternoon, my name is Olivia White. I was told by the police department in Damascus to ring this number if I needed to get into contact with the inspector in charge of my nephew's murder. Please ring me back as soon as you get this.'

James ran back into the lounge and pressed replay, listening intently as the message repeated. It finished and he pressed play on the other messages.

'-I have not heard from Catherine since she rang me the other day to confirm her visit. To be frank, inspector, I am exceedingly worried about her. She should have been here by now. Please ring me as soon as possible!'

'-Good evening, inspector. Have you heard from my sister? Please get in contact with her and tell her to call me. She still has not shown up or called me. Please ring back.'

The messages ended and James immediately called back Olivia White. After a brief conversation in which he took down all formal notes, he hung up and began pacing the room. Catherine White was gone. Not just out of town but had disappeared. He scowled. Plant would have a field day and the Perette's would join him for the picnic. Currently she was their number one suspect, the only person that evidence linked to without obstruction. The fact that she was gone would only confirm everyone's suspicions.

'Fuck.'

Swore James, his face contorting in anger and concentration as he tried not to punch the nearest wall. To an eye that only wanted to see an end to the case, this was perfection. To James there were plot holes that simply were not filled in by Catherine White. How did she get Lindsey out of her room? Did Catherine have the ability to kill a poor child? Not if she cared for Lindsey like everyone kept saying. It made no sense, but Plant would run with it. Until she was found, she was guilty.

Lindsey was hidden somewhere, kept silent by her parents, or Belberra, waiting for the full moon to rise. Realisation dawned on James and he sighed heavily. It was an impossible thing to say but he knew it was true; the case was a dead end. It was squared. It needed to go on another tangent. They needed to find the link between the three cases. Evidence that the third case, the cult, actually existed. He glanced at his watch and stood up, it was late but the rumours said the cult came at dark.

After a few minutes riffling through the kitchen drawers, he found a torch, spare batteries and a set of keys. Dressed up in an extra coat and hat, James made sure his handgun was loaded and stepped out into the cold. His hide would be skinned for not reporting immediately the latest news connecting Catherine White to Lindsey, but he decided it should wait. If Plant heard about it, all focus would be pushed in that direction, and James could not afford that.

Wallace's car was gone from the driveway as he stepped into the cold. James had no idea where his housemates were. He climbed into his own car, and by the light on the roof unfolded the large maps of Damascus that was in his glove box. He knew the parameter of the town, the reported sighting of the pentagrams, candles and scarecrows came from an area up north. Along North Bone Hollow road, a street stretched off, coming to a stop and fading into a dirt driveway. James remembered a ramshackle old house and barn, occasionally used as a haunted house over Halloween. It belonged to Belberra. James had never known.