Find Them Dead

47 Monday 13 May

Meg sat in her seat in the packed carriage and read through the WhatsApp message as the train rolled past the remains of the former Lewes Racecourse, then sent it. She’d realized the train from Hove station, a twenty-minute walk or five-minute drive from her home, was a lot easier than driving to Lewes — and she knew it would please Laura to know she was doing something more environmentally friendly than driving. Silly, she thought, that she should be doing something to seek her daughter’s approval, but it was another small way of creating a bond with her over this vast distance separating them.

God, she so wished she could get a message to her to get the hell out of that damned country and on a plane back home, but she knew that wouldn’t necessarily make her any safer from these evil people. She did a mental calculation. Ecuador was five hours behind the UK, so it would be midday for Laura. She wondered where she and Cassie were right now.

A reply came back just a couple of minutes later. With it was a photograph of a roadside cafe with what looked like small animals cooking on a rotary grill outside.

Meg smiled, her eyes moist. There was so much to be afraid of in Laura’s big adventure, quite apart from the bastards who were threatening her. The standards of driving in South America; the crime in a place where life was cheap. Two young girls travelling alone. Such damned easy targets.

She tried to put those worries from her mind and thought back to lunchtime today. To her surprise it had been Hugo, the one she’d thought would be the biggest problem, who had turned into her ally. He’d done it in a crass, patronizing way, which had included patting her thigh, suggestively, but she didn’t care.

‘Women have better intuition than us men, this lady wants the role and, in the interests of demonstrating gender equality on this jury, I vote we seriously consider Mrs Magellan as our foreperson,’ he’d said. Then he’d gone on to really annoy her with his comment, ‘At home, She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed is almost always right.’

In different circumstances she might have brained him with the closest weapon. But at lunchtime today she could have kissed him. Except he was gross, sweaty and a lech. It didn’t matter, she had what she wanted. And ‘Bat Out of Hell’ was blasting out of the radio into her headphones, lifting her mood fleetingly as the train rolled into Brighton station.

At 4.30 p.m. they’d been released for the day and were required back for a 10 a.m. resumption tomorrow.

A quarter of an hour later, Meg left Hove station in bright, warm, late-afternoon sunshine and walked down towards her house. She passed a row of large, terraced Victorian houses. In one front garden she passed, a couple were sitting on a bench in shorts with a bottle of wine in a bucket on the table in front of them, soaking up the rays. A little further down the street she smelled smoke from a barbecue. Normality. Everyone seemed to be having a pleasant afternoon, going into a pleasant evening. Just doing normal stuff.

Everyone except herself. She walked with fear curling in her stomach, enveloped in a darkness blacker than her shadow that glided beside her.

The forecast was good for the next few days, getting increasingly warm, maybe an early summer heatwave. Usually, she’d have made plans. Maybe changed into her swimming cozzie and taken a book down to the beach. Or called Ali and suggested meeting at their favourite seafront bar for a cocktail. But she just wanted to be home, indoors with her thoughts, all the doors bolted.

Thank goodness the house would be more secure now. Last night she’d had the locks changed by an emergency locksmith who’d charged her an outrageous amount. But she didn’t care. At least that evil bastard who had called her on Saturday evening wouldn’t find it quite so easy to invade her home now.

She opened the front door and was greeted by Daphne, who looked at her like she would have called the RSPCA if she knew how to dial a phone. On the floor, among a couple of envelopes that looked like bills, was a brown Amazon package.

Closing the door, she knelt and stroked the cat. ‘Hey, beautiful! What’s your problem?’ Then she prised open the package and saw it was an old movie she’d ordered after one of the jurors had mentioned it last week. Twelve Angry Men. What had particularly interested her about the film, when she’d looked it up online later, was its subject. It was about a juror who had, one by one, changed the minds of all his fellow jurors from a guilty to an innocent verdict. She would watch it this evening.

‘You hungry, Daffers? Let me get you some food. Your mummy has had a busy day. Want me to tell you about it? They made me foreperson. Impressed?’

As she walked across the hall, Meg continued chatting to the cat. ‘We heard the opening statement from the prosecution this morning. Then all afternoon we were sequestered in the jury room, because there were more legal arguments going on in court. I’m not really sure what legal arguments are, but I guess they’re important and hey, it meant I got to leave the court a little early. I’ll bet you’re glad about that, aren’t—’

She stopped in mid-sentence as she entered the kitchen. Her flesh crawled. On the table was a new photograph, a typed note beside it.

She ran over to it and stared down.

The photograph, again taken with a telephoto lens, was of Laura and Cassie, taken from behind as they boarded a tiny, archaic train with just two carriages. At the top in small print was the word Aluisi followed by the date. Yesterday.

The note read:

Moments later her new phone rang. She answered, warily, and heard the familiar male voice from before.

‘You are doing well, Meg, apart from that faffing around with the locks. That won’t stop us. Please don’t underestimate us. I really want your daughter to be safe, believe me, I’ve a little girl almost exactly her age and I know how I’d feel if I knew her life was in danger. So, let’s just behave like adults, shall we?’

‘You bastard,’ she replied, the words coming out before she could stop them.

‘Attitude is not going to help you, Meg. I’m sure you don’t like me at this moment, but when I return Laura safely home, you will thank me and realize I’m your best friend in the world.’

‘In your fucking dreams.’

‘Tut, tut, I hope you don’t use that language with your fellow jurors. What you need to understand is that we’re both on the same side here.’

‘Oh yes? Like one of us is on the side of the Devil and the other on the side of the Angels?’

‘You really need to calm down, Meg. Focus. Think just one thing. You want to see Laura again, don’t you?’

She said nothing.

After some moments, he went on. ‘Of course you do, she’s all the family you have left in the world. How would your life be without her? With her dead, like your husband and son? Think about it, Meg. Think what it would be like to go to the airport and sign a receipt for little Laura in a coffin. Go on, think really hard. What kind of wood would you choose for it? What lining inside? Brass handles?’

‘Stop it,’ she blurted, choked. ‘Please stop.’

‘Meg, you know what you have to do. We are very aware some of your fellow jurors could be a problem, but don’t worry about them — we’ll do what we can to take care of it.’

The line went dead.