Page 31
Story: The Rising Tide
‘Him.’
Abraham blinks. ‘Meaning?’
‘Weallknowhim.’ Rawlings picks up a tasselled cushion from the desk chair.
Inside Abraham’s lungs, something foul is mobilizing. Beside the desk stands a huge blank canvas. He imagines, for a moment, the horror if he coughed. ‘Sir, do you have any information about Daniel Locke you think is relevant to this investigation?’
The man hugs the cushion to his belly. ‘So you’reinvestigatinghim, then?’
‘We’re trying to find that family. If you know something about Daniel Locke you believe is important, you can help us enormously by sharing it.’
Rawlings sighs. ‘I don’t have anything specific. But some people – one just gets a feeling, doesn’t one?’
Abraham is starting to get a very strong feeling about Wayland Rawlings – so strong he can taste it, like bad coffee, in his mouth. He can’t stand gossips and troublemakers. And he dislikes Rawlings’ treatment of the Locke family’s misfortune as vicarious entertainment; the very worst kind of road-accident gawper. He hands the man a card. ‘We’ll need the computer. First, I want you to email the footage to this address.’
‘A moment’s work, my liege.’
‘If you need to contact me directly, you can use the details on that card.’
Rawlings looks at the screen. ‘Those poor children,’ he laments. ‘I wonder what that beast did to them.’
3
Outside, the wind is unyielding. Abraham feels like he’s walking into an opposing magnetic force. Rain needles hisface. Debris tumbles along the quay: leaves; stones; carrier bags; three rattling beer cans.
The search adviser from Middlemoor will be here in an hour. His comms team wants to schedule a press conference back in Barnstaple, but most of the available media is rushing towards Skentel. Forensics should arrive soon, too. In the meantime, Abraham wants a closer look at the Lockes’ boat.
‘What the hell doesvendiblesmean, do you think?’ Cooper asks.
‘Why don’t you look it up?’
Abraham’s phone buzzes. It’s the contact centre in Exeter. He winces – already, it feels like the established lines of communication are blurring.
‘I have a call for you from the SMC,’ says a voice.
‘The who?’
‘The coastguard’s Search and Rescue Mission Coordinator. Seems like they found something.’
TEN
1
Towers of white water, whichever way Lucy looks.
Each slopeHuntsman’s Daughterclimbs is the one she thinks will flip them. Each trough they plunge down is the one she knows will swallow them. Her terror is a living thing, a bird beating wings inside her chest. Every minute that passes is a minute her husband and children haven’t been found; a minute they remain in the water in this cold and hellish sea.
Standing in the cockpit, Lucy feels like she’s made of glass, so brittle that the slightest hammer tap could shatter her. All she wants –allshe wants – is to be reunited with her family, to pluck them, hearts beating and lungs heaving, from the clutches of this malicious sea. She needs to kiss Fin’s hair, breathe his almondy smell, hug Billie tight enough to make her groan, look into Daniel’s eyes and tell him how much she loves him, even though a part of her is angry with him –furious –for sailing her children into this and leaving her all alone.
What rational explanation could there be for his actions? Only one that Lucy can imagine: Daniel feared for Billie and Fin’s safety on land and chose to bring them out here instead. But what could they have been fleeing? Certainly nothing that makes any sense. And why, in any case, not take her with them? Or, at the very least, find some way of making contact?
Daddy, no—
Lucy cringes from her son’s words.
So far, the prospect of not finding her family has been inconceivable. Now, the possibility grows so real it takes physical form, a presence coalescing in the boat. Even worse is a voice, half caught on the wind. She knows it wants her to listen, and she knows she has to resist. Because the secret it hopes to share, the truth it wants her to face, is simply too shattering to accept.
Daniel, she thinks.Daniel, tell me you kept them safe. Tell me you’re protecting them, you’re keeping them alive. Tell me you’re safe too.
Abraham blinks. ‘Meaning?’
‘Weallknowhim.’ Rawlings picks up a tasselled cushion from the desk chair.
Inside Abraham’s lungs, something foul is mobilizing. Beside the desk stands a huge blank canvas. He imagines, for a moment, the horror if he coughed. ‘Sir, do you have any information about Daniel Locke you think is relevant to this investigation?’
The man hugs the cushion to his belly. ‘So you’reinvestigatinghim, then?’
‘We’re trying to find that family. If you know something about Daniel Locke you believe is important, you can help us enormously by sharing it.’
Rawlings sighs. ‘I don’t have anything specific. But some people – one just gets a feeling, doesn’t one?’
Abraham is starting to get a very strong feeling about Wayland Rawlings – so strong he can taste it, like bad coffee, in his mouth. He can’t stand gossips and troublemakers. And he dislikes Rawlings’ treatment of the Locke family’s misfortune as vicarious entertainment; the very worst kind of road-accident gawper. He hands the man a card. ‘We’ll need the computer. First, I want you to email the footage to this address.’
‘A moment’s work, my liege.’
‘If you need to contact me directly, you can use the details on that card.’
Rawlings looks at the screen. ‘Those poor children,’ he laments. ‘I wonder what that beast did to them.’
3
Outside, the wind is unyielding. Abraham feels like he’s walking into an opposing magnetic force. Rain needles hisface. Debris tumbles along the quay: leaves; stones; carrier bags; three rattling beer cans.
The search adviser from Middlemoor will be here in an hour. His comms team wants to schedule a press conference back in Barnstaple, but most of the available media is rushing towards Skentel. Forensics should arrive soon, too. In the meantime, Abraham wants a closer look at the Lockes’ boat.
‘What the hell doesvendiblesmean, do you think?’ Cooper asks.
‘Why don’t you look it up?’
Abraham’s phone buzzes. It’s the contact centre in Exeter. He winces – already, it feels like the established lines of communication are blurring.
‘I have a call for you from the SMC,’ says a voice.
‘The who?’
‘The coastguard’s Search and Rescue Mission Coordinator. Seems like they found something.’
TEN
1
Towers of white water, whichever way Lucy looks.
Each slopeHuntsman’s Daughterclimbs is the one she thinks will flip them. Each trough they plunge down is the one she knows will swallow them. Her terror is a living thing, a bird beating wings inside her chest. Every minute that passes is a minute her husband and children haven’t been found; a minute they remain in the water in this cold and hellish sea.
Standing in the cockpit, Lucy feels like she’s made of glass, so brittle that the slightest hammer tap could shatter her. All she wants –allshe wants – is to be reunited with her family, to pluck them, hearts beating and lungs heaving, from the clutches of this malicious sea. She needs to kiss Fin’s hair, breathe his almondy smell, hug Billie tight enough to make her groan, look into Daniel’s eyes and tell him how much she loves him, even though a part of her is angry with him –furious –for sailing her children into this and leaving her all alone.
What rational explanation could there be for his actions? Only one that Lucy can imagine: Daniel feared for Billie and Fin’s safety on land and chose to bring them out here instead. But what could they have been fleeing? Certainly nothing that makes any sense. And why, in any case, not take her with them? Or, at the very least, find some way of making contact?
Daddy, no—
Lucy cringes from her son’s words.
So far, the prospect of not finding her family has been inconceivable. Now, the possibility grows so real it takes physical form, a presence coalescing in the boat. Even worse is a voice, half caught on the wind. She knows it wants her to listen, and she knows she has to resist. Because the secret it hopes to share, the truth it wants her to face, is simply too shattering to accept.
Daniel, she thinks.Daniel, tell me you kept them safe. Tell me you’re protecting them, you’re keeping them alive. Tell me you’re safe too.
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