The Lake Of Lilies E-Book

Julia Sutton

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Little Hamsden is a picturesque town nestled in the English countryside. But when a young girl disappears, tensions run high and a private investigator is called in to help solve the case.

Lisa Reynolds is the key witness.A bakery assistant by day and a club singer by night, her life is thrown into turmoil by a tragic event.

So begins a journey of intrigue, romance, love and passion, combined with a burning desire to unravel the mystery. What happened at the Lake of Lilies?

Leseprobe

THE LAKE OF LILIES

JULIA SUTTON

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

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About the Author

Copyright (C) 2019 Julia Sutton

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter

Published 2022 by Next Chapter

Edited by Marilyn Wagner

Cover art by CoverMint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

I dedicate my first novel to my loving husband Stephen and my two wonderful children Jack and Isabel.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank my family and friends for their love, support and encouragement.

A big thank you to Miika Hannila and everyone at Next Chapter Publishing for giving me this opportunity, and for all their help and hard work.

Thank you to Marilyn Wagner for editing this book.

Finally, I would like to thank all the people who are reading The Lake of Lilies. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

1

LISA

It was an unusually hot spring day. For the past three weeks, there had been a mini heat wave; with little rain, plenty of sunshine, and today seemed to be following the pattern. There had been a few spatterings of clouds earlier this morning, and now, just after mid-day, the sky was clear. Golden rays from the sun shone down, warming and illuminating, bathing the English landscape in vivid radiance and light. Lisa Reynolds walked quickly along the winding dirt path. In the distance, she could see a mass of trees, huddled close together, their boughs merging in an explosion of pink and white blossom. She had been walking for almost three quarters of an hour. Her feet were sore from standing too long, her shoulders ached under the pressure of a pretty but practical handbag, which was weighed down with books, uniform, make-up and keys.

Lisa had just finished work. She did not have a seated job like her best friend Emma, who was employed as a legal secretary. Emma worked in a neat, pristine office, with whitewashed walls and expensive furnishings. In comparison, Lisa worked in a chaotic café, bright, loud and cheerful, which smelt deliciously of freshly baked bread and croissants. Lisa usually worked part-time, but had been helping out with the unexpected flux of customers that the Easter holidays had brought into town. Today had been very busy, as well as the locals, whom Lisa knew the majority by first name terms, there had also been numerous out-of-town visitors. Little Hamsden was a picturesque place to live, with a patchwork rural landscape, rolling hills and barley sweet meadows. The population was small, the shops and the houses were quaint. The church was stunning with its dazzling, myriad stained glass windows, the archaic brickwork and the magnificent steeple with its southern tip encapsulated by gargoyles and angels. It was a place which was packed full of history. A place where folk tales and myths had originated and religious factions had flourished, even the more dubious ones had been documented over the years in the local museum. Little Hamsden dripped with flowery imagery, which a poet might attribute to typical idyllic country life. It nestled like a gem, bursting with colour and waiting to be discovered. In comparison, the neighbouring city, which was approximately an hour’s drive away, was shrouded by smog and modernity: grey, urban and impersonal.

One of the main attractions of Little Hamsden was the lake, which twisted and turned, weaving its way around the town, creating a type of medieval Arthurian fortress. It was extremely popular with both tourists and locals alike. Lisa had been born in Little Hamsden and had spent a great deal of time at the lake as a child, playing hide-and-seek, climbing trees, picking wild flowers for friends and family and learning to swim in the natural, outdoor environment. She loved the water. As she matured, her mother allowed her to camp out overnight with friends and to swim unsupervised. It was a place which, when Lisa reminisced, held many fond and special memories and still now at twenty-four, Lisa spent leisurely hours here. It was her favourite place to rest and relax, the ideal haven for reading a book and lazily wishing the hours away. Lisa was walking through the blossom laden trees now and could clearly see the outline of the lake and could hear the faint swishing of water as it broke onto dry land. Like the weather, the lake was particularly calm, and in the glorious, afternoon sunshine, it shimmered soundlessly like a net of diamonds, hundreds that sparkled and dazzled, interspersed with splashes of colour: silver, gold, brown and green hues and in one corner, floated a radiant circle of pink and white, which Lisa recognised as water lilies, nestling on a sea of dark green, veiny leaves.

Lisa reached the small boat, which her parents had bought for her two birthdays ago and pushed it forward until it creaked in protestation, spattering dried mud and grass, as it descended downwards, towards the water’s edge. With one last heave, she manoeuvred the small, oval shaped boat onto the water and climbed in, swaying precariously, before it could float away out of her grasp. Carefully, she rowed away from the water’s edge towards the centre of the lake. The wooden oars dipped into the water effortlessly, helped by the intensity of the sun’s heat and without any opposition from the wind, Lisa found little resistance as she headed out onto the lake’s glistening surface. When she reached her intended destination, Lisa hung the small metal anchor overboard and let it fall from her fingers into the water with a splash. She waited for the boat to stop moving, pushing a damp tendril of dark brown hair from across her perspiring forehead and tucking it behind her ear.

Lisa lay back in the boat with a sigh and closed her eyes. The hot sunshine caressed her skin, warming her aching limbs. She hooked a leg over the side of the boat and dipped her right foot tentatively into the water. It felt cool and refreshing on her naked skin, and ripples formed seductively around her toes and reverberated into circular shapes that began small and grew progressively larger. It was so quiet and peaceful here by the lake, unpolluted by artificial distraction, Lisa could only sense the sound of nature around her. She could hear the soft sound of crickets, hiding in the long grass, birds were chirping in the skies and the trees, a gentle buzzing emanated from bees, enticed by the premature hot weather. They danced from flower to flower, and from far away, in the distance, she could hear the sound of children’s laughter, tinkling merrily. It was the school’s Easter break, Lisa knew this because the café in which she worked had been inundated by bored teenagers over the last two weeks. The manager invariably complained that they stayed too long, spent too little and made too much noise, but Lisa enjoyed their company in the café and saw only exuberant youth, a passion for life, which Lisa believed had bypassed the manager a while ago and which he secretly envied.

Lisa could feel herself drifting off into that place that occupied half slumber and half consciousness. She was tired, she had been working since eight o’clock this morning. It was now two-thirty, and it had been a busy shift. All day the High Street Café had bustled with clientele, and last night Lisa had been singing at Belle’s until twelve o’clock. This morning she found that her voice had suffered from last night’s excesses. She had been hoarse and croaky, and her eyes were red and sore; a reaction to bright, searing lights and lack of quality sleep. It did not take long for her breathing to deepen. Lisa loved this part of the lake, appreciating its beauty and seclusion. It was a small area, which managed to bypass the hordes of camera happy tourists and remained largely undiscovered, even by many of the local people. She visited this area frequently, more often when she was a student. The tranquillity and lack of distraction created an ambience, which proved to be an extremely conducive and productive environment in which to study and revise. Lisa had successfully passed the majority of her exams at school, with the exception of maths, areas of which she still found baffling today, in particular algebra. After her GCSEs, she stayed on at sixth form, studying and passing A levels in English, Music and History, gaining good qualifications in all three subjects. Unsure at that time of how to continue and with financial considerations or rather lack of finances, she opted out of progressing onto university. Instead, she had drifted along, taking employment in shops, bars and now cafes, so she could indulge her true passion, which was music and singing.

Her laid back approach to life exasperated her driven, ambitious and affluent parents, and her lack of a ‘proper career’, had been a major concern and a constant talking issue during family meals and get-togethers. Her father, who was a tall, dark haired, gentle man in his mid-fifties, worked for the local police force, serving for twenty five years. He was held in high esteem by many within the local community due to his integrity, decency and forthright, straight talking manner. Over the years, he had accumulated respect from professionals and labourers alike, and his evenings were often interrupted dealing with local domestic issues and by requests of advice. Lisa’s mother was more of an academic; she was petite, with short sandy coloured hair, twinkling blue eyes and a captivating smile, which quickly warmed her to clients. She had studied law at the city’s university, and with her quick wit and intellect and ambitious nature, she had successfully graduated with flying colours. Jayne Reynolds was currently employed as a partner at the High Street solicitors, Reynolds and Frasers. Her mother’s office was on the same street where Lisa worked, and she often popped in for a quick chat, a coffee and a slice of carrot cake during her lunch break.

Lisa had two siblings, of which she was the youngest. Her brother Joe, lived and worked in the city as a banker. He was three years older than Lisa and very similar to his mother, in both his looks and personality. His height of six foot two, however, came from genes inherited from his father. Joe Reynolds was a bachelor; married to his job. His various girlfriends over the years had always come second best to his career, apart from a dalliance a few years ago, which had verged on the edge of engagement before dwindling out. Joe owned a gorgeous city apartment, in an enviable location, which was decorated with minimalist and modern furnishings. Lisa visited her brother regularly during holidays, Christmas and birthdays, and he travelled to Little Hamsden whenever his busy schedule would permit it. As children, they had been close and still were, even though they did not see each other often. Lisa knew that she could call him if any problems arose in her life, which might be serious enough to warrant a phone call.

Ruth was the eldest of the Reynolds children and six years older than Lisa, at thirty years of age. She was very similar to her father in her personality, acquiring a very practical and methodical personality. In looks, she appeared very similar to her mother, she was medium height, with the same coloured shade of hair, eyes that were a cerulean blue and a wide and amiable smile. Ruth was very pretty and at school had never been short of male admirers. Unlike her mother, she did not share the same drive and ambition, she had married young and had two daughters: Aimee and Beth. Ruth was employed part time in the museum and had never moved out of Little Hamsden. She had proved capable at school, gaining good qualifications, but she lacked the intention to pursue a career further and was happy in her role as wife and mother. Ruth lived with her family on the outskirts of Little Hamsden, and Lisa saw her sister and family often, especially at weekends, when they visited and stayed for lunch. Lisa enjoyed babysitting her nieces; Aimee and Beth regularly camped out in the spare room during weekend and school holiday sleepovers. They both adored their spirited and entertaining Aunt and loved listening to her singing.

Ruth often ruminated that Lisa had inherited her Gran’s wayward free spirit and her love of music. In looks, she was a mixture of both her parents. Her hair was dark like her father’s, and she had the same chocolate coloured eyes, fringed with long, curvy black eyelashes. She was petite like her mother, with an impish, heart-shaped face and a salacious smile. Lisa’s skin was clear, unlined and smooth. With a naturally rosy complexion, she needed to wear little make-up to accentuate her pretty facial features. In the heat of the afternoon sun, small beads of perspiration were now dampening her forehead and nose. Slowly, she leaned an arm over the edge of the boat. Cupping her hand, she gathered a small pool of water and splashed it onto her face and neck. Shielding her eyes from the glare of the bright sunshine, Lisa quickly scanned the area around her. She noticed that she was still completely alone and still bobbing in the centre of the lake. She fumbled in her handbag and fished out a pair of beige tinted sunglasses. Her eyes were soothed from the UV protection they offered, and she lay back in the boat with a contented sigh.

She was thinking dreamily about what she could sing and in which order at her next gig, which was three days away, when suddenly her reverie was broken by the sound of raised voices and shouting. Quickly, she sat up in the boat, looking around her to determine what direction the noise was coming from.

“You need to be very careful!”

She deciphered from the tone of the words, that the voice belonged to that of a male. At the water’s edge, Lisa could now see a man and a woman in what appeared to be in the middle of an altercation. Lisa squinted; she could only see the woman from her knees upwards as she was standing in the middle of the long grass. The female figure had her hands on her hips and a heated expression on her face as she turned to face the man, who had just spoken.

“You don’t frighten me,” the woman replied tersely, pointing a finger, “leave me alone and mind your own business.”

Lisa leaned forward in the boat, her attention completely on the arguing couple. She saw the man reach out a hand, attempting to grab hold of the young-looking blonde woman by the arm, but she shrugged him away angrily. Lisa suddenly felt like an intruder in what was obviously a domestic argument. She cleared her throat loudly, hoping that they would notice her and take their quarrel elsewhere, but they appeared oblivious to her presence on the lake.

“You don’t know what you are doing, you stupid …” the man trailed off as the woman spun away from him on her heel.

Lisa saw his hand jerk forward again, and this time he grabbed her in what looked like a vice tight grip. The woman was struggling and was trying to lash out at the man, but he gripped both of her arms in his large hands. She could hear the woman cursing, but the man seemed unfazed by her futile attempts to break free. Lisa was beginning to feel concerned by the severity of the row.

“Hey, are you okay?” She called towards the woman.

Neither of the couple appeared to have heard her. She raised her arms, waving in their direction, hoping to attract their attention. She saw the woman raise a knee and direct it defiantly between the man’s open legs. He bent forward, his face contorted with pain, and loosened his grip on the woman’s arms. Lisa saw her spin around and shoot forward along the water’s edge, in the opposite direction. He quickly recovered and strode after her. Lisa saw the woman running now along the water’s edge, and she suddenly felt real concern for her safety. That man looked really mean, she thought with a shudder. She tugged at the anchor, pulling it quickly up out of the water and then quickly shoved the oars overboard and started rowing towards the edge of the lake.

“Hey stop … stop,” she yelled louder now.

She saw the man pause fleetingly and look in her direction with a frown on his face, but the woman seemed to have not heard her and was still running. The man sped after her. Run faster she willed the woman silently; Lisa saw her stumble over gnarled tree roots and fall onto her knees. The man caught up with her. Gasping for breath, he grabbed a handful of her blouse and yanked her roughly by the arm. Lisa was close enough now to see the wince of pain pass across the woman’s face.

“Leave her alone,” Lisa yelled, angrily rowing faster towards the couple.

This time the woman heard her and turned her face towards Lisa. A look of fear and dread was evident on her features.

“Help me,” she screamed, flailing her arms in the direction of the lake.

The man pulled her to her feet, and with one last nasty sneer in Lisa’s direction, he yanked her away from the water’s edge and then disappeared with her into the trees, like an animal who had captured his prey and taken it back to its cave. Lisa could no longer see them, but she could hear the woman screaming. Oh God, she thought in desperation.

“Are you okay? Are you okay?” She cupped her hands around her mouth, calling into the trees waiting for a reply, but there was no answer.

There was no shouting, no screaming anymore, only ominous, deathly silence.

2

Lisa ran most of the way home. The memory of the violent row and the woman’s frightened face unnerved her, and after mooring her boat, she had been spurred on to inform her father of the incident. When she reached the shore, Lisa spent a good fifteen minutes looking in the area where she had last seen the couple. There had been no further sighting or sound of either of them. It was strange, they just vanished. Adrenaline drove her forward at a quick pace. It was usually a half hour walk from the secluded area of the lake to Lisa’s house, but today, she reached home in twenty minutes. Please, let someone be in, she thought desperately as she opened the gate and raced up the drive. Lisa briefly noticed Mrs. Foster, her elderly neighbour, out in the front garden, pulling weeds from the ground and tossing them into a weather-beaten, plastic bucket.

“Hello Lisa,” she called, looking up from her gardening and smiling. “Are you okay dear? You look a little flustered.”

“Yes … erm thanks,” Lisa replied politely, inwardly thinking, no, I have a really bad feeling about what I have just witnessed.

Reaching the shiny, blue front door, Lisa delved into her bag, searching for her house keys. In the process, she managed to send her purse and loose make-up upwards, and as she rummaged, they tipped out and fell to the floor with a clatter. Mrs. Foster rose to her feet, sniffing inquisitively, she surveyed the back of Lisa’s slender figure. That girl was an enigma, she thought, a little odd, and surely she should be married now at her age instead of gallivanting around bars singing.

Lisa turned the key in the door and collapsed inside the hallway shouting, “Mum, Dad, is anyone in?”

No reply. Of course not, they were still at work, the house was silent. She rushed into the kitchen, scanning the room for the cordless telephone. The room was tidy, dishes from the morning breakfast lay on the drainer next to unopened mail and morning newspapers. Sunlight seeped through the windows, illuminating the sparkling clean surfaces and casting shadows in the corners. The house was silent but in the distance, the sound of a mower whirring along long blades of grass filtered through the silence.

Lisa walked into the adjoining room. She found the phone lying next to a freshly cut vase of pale, pink roses, the scent of which filled the living room. With nimble, decisive fingers, Lisa dialled her father’s work number, and a lady answered the phone after three rings.

“Good afternoon, Little Hamsden Police Station.”

Lisa recognised the lilting, lucid tone of Janice Brewer, a friendly lady in her fifties, who had worked for the local police almost as long as her father Tom.

“Hi Janice … it’s Lisa … is my dad there please?” she sputtered discordantly into the mouthpiece.

“Hi Lisa,” Janice replied cheerfully. She could almost see Janice smiling into the telephone. “He’s not here at the moment, he’s out on patrol sweetheart,” a brief pause, “do you need to speak to him urgently? I can radio him for you.”

It was very rare for any of the Reynolds to contact Tom at work, but this was an emergency. Used to dealing with emergency calls, Janice could intuitively recognise this, by the urgency in Lisa’s tone of voice. Lisa nodded in affirmation and decided the best course of action would be to share the information with Janice. She blurted out what she had witnessed, stressing the heated altercation, the ensuing violence and the disappearance of the couple. Janice listened attentively, making notes and patiently waiting for Lisa to finish speaking. When she did, Janice relayed the information back to her.

“Yes, that’s correct,” Lisa agreed.

After being promised an immediate call to her father, Lisa hung up the phone, replacing it in its cradle. She made her way into the downstairs bathroom, where she splashed cold water onto her flushed cheeks and peered at her reflection in the oval, gilded mirror. A worried frown stared back at her, lines of apprehension etched onto her forehead. Lisa smoothed her face dry and wandered back into the kitchen. She perched on a stool and picked up the morning newspaper, flicking through it quickly, finding it hard to concentrate. Maybe this will be in tomorrow’s news, she thought gloomily. From the kitchen door Lisa heard a sudden scratching, she hopped down from the stool and let their four-year-old tabby cat, Minx, into the house. It purred around her ankles, its fur was warm and soft, and Lisa welcomed the distraction. She bent down to envelope the feline into her arms, as it rubbed its nose against her face, purring contentedly.

“Hello you,” she sighed, rubbing the cat's ear with her free hand. “Do you want feeding?” She asked.

Minx meowed in reply. Lisa opened the cream door of the overhead kitchen cupboard and was just in the process of emptying the contents into a clean dish, when the phone rang shrilly. Lisa dropped the empty can onto the work surface and clattered into the lounge. She reached the phone just before the call went to the automatic answer machine.

“Hello,” she spoke breathlessly, trying not to shout into the receiver, her nerves jangled, like the bracelets on her wrist.

It was her father.

“Hello darling,” he greeted her warmly and calmly.

“Dad, something awful happened at the lake this afternoon,” she gabbled.

“There’s a girl, and she is in trouble.”

“Janice has told me,” he replied, soothingly. “I’m on my way now to look around the area.”

“Please hurry Dad,” she urged. “It was awful.”

Lisa closed her eyes, and an image of the girl’s petrified face flashed into her mind. He asked her a few more questions, what they were wearing and the location of where the incident had taken place. Reassuring her not to worry and that he would speak to her as soon as he had found any evidence of their whereabouts, Lisa hung up the phone. For the rest of the afternoon, she sat in the garden, attempting to relax, but checking the phone every half hour, in case her father had called and she had missed it. She frequently looked out of the window at the cars going past. Mrs. Foster was still in her garden. Lisa caught her eye once, noticing her puzzled look, she smiled at her neighbour and waved distractedly.

It was nearly two hours later that Tom arrived back home. The sirens on his police car had been silenced, but the blue lights were still flashing. Lisa could see them, revolving blue orbs, through the frosted glass of the front door. She recalled how, as a child, she had loved riding in her father’s police car. On occasions he had taken herself and Joe out, and they had sat in the back, wide eyed with excitement as they sped along the roads with the sirens screeching and blue lights flashing wildly. Lisa’s friends were a little in awe of her father for his well-known and respected status in the community and for his ability to cope with any situation calmly and fairly. He had worked diligently, and over the years had progressed to police sergeant, with a team of constables to supervise and instruct. There had been further opportunities for promotion, but Tom had declined them, as time with his family was more important to him. He had seen other policemen who had progressed through the ranks, taking early retirement because of stress and ill health, that had resulted from the pressures of the job. He didn’t want this to happen to him.

Although her father had always shown job satisfaction outwardly, often stating that he loved his job, there had been episodes when his choice of career had reduced him to tears and feelings of deep moroseness. There had been a short period when he had been on anti-depressants after a particularly bad road traffic accident. Tom had been the first one on the scene, called to an accident on a notorious bendy road on the outskirts of the town. There had been an elderly car driver involved in a head on collision with a young motor bike rider. It had been late at night, the car driver had fallen asleep at the wheel and swerved across the right-hand side of the road into the path of an oncoming motor bike rider. The elderly male had survived with whiplash and concussion, but the bike rider had been catapulted, like a stone from a sling, lying broken and surrounded by shards of glass. He died in Tom’s arms; he was only eighteen. At the time, it had affected him deeply, it exemplified the serious nature of his job, it was more than just a career, it was a vocation.

Lisa could see her father, a blur of dark blue police uniform, striding purposefully up the path. Lisa ran to the door and flung it open, almost collapsing into his arms.

“Dad,” she welcomed.

“Hello,” he replied, a smile twitching at the corners of his moustache. “Are you okay?”

He reached out and placed a comforting hand upon her shoulders.

“Yes …” she faltered. “I’m just worried about that girl.”

Tom frowned, removing his police cap and smoothing his dark brown hair.

“There’s been no sighting of them, Lisa,” he said. “Jim and I went straight to the lake after I spoke to Janice. We had a good look around, but,” he paused. “No sign of them.”

Jim was her father’s work partner and a close family friend.

“Oh,” Lisa said slowly, following her father into the kitchen.

“Then we went into town,” Tom continued, “asked around the shops on the high street if anyone had seen the couple you described … nothing.”

Lisa sighed and ran her fingers tersely through her hair in frustration.

“Try not to worry,” Tom stated simply. “I’ve logged an incident and made other officers aware of it at the station,” Tom paused, frowning at Lisa’s worried countenance.

He knew from past experience that she was anxious. He could tell by her stance and the way that she picked her fingernails, a habit which she indulged in at times of stress, this incident had really upset and frightened her.

“Lisa,” he began slowly. “How would you feel about coming back with me to the lake and going through exactly what happened?”

“Yes sure,” Lisa replied decisively. “Anything to help.”

She had to do something, she thought with a twinge of desperation.

A sudden gust of wind blew through the open door and into the hallway. Although still warm, the wind was stirring out of its slumber, and as the afternoon had progressed, the temperature had dropped cooler. Lisa grabbed her violet hoodie from the balustrade, shrugging into it, as her father closed the door securely behind them. She lifted her shoulder length hair free from the warmth of the fleece, and it blew around her, fanned by another gust of wind. She looked up at the skies above, the brilliant blue of lunch time was becoming broken by small patches of clouds here and there, driving the temperature down a few notches. Lisa walked quickly down the path, noticing Tom’s partner Jim, in the passenger seat. Jim smiled broadly at Lisa’s appearance.

“Hi gorgeous,” he greeted warmly, winding down the window and winking.

In her present frame of mind Lisa did not feel inclined for pleasantries, but she was unable to suppress the smile playing across her lips at the sight of Jim’s familiar, jovial face. She returned the greeting, her spirits lifting.

“Hi.”

She opened the back door of the car, bending her head carefully, as she sat in and snapped the seatbelt on instinctively. Tom took charge in the driving seat, banging the door shut firmly, he started the engine. It revved into life loudly, and he indicated before pulling away from the kerb edge. The roads were quiet at this time of day, before rush hour had begun. They passed a few cars and vans, and they sped past a mother walking with her children, enjoying the afternoon sunshine and being outdoors. Tom carefully steered his vehicle around a couple riding bikes, on their way to a picnic, laden with bags of food; books and blankets strapped to their backs. Spring flowers at the roadside passed by in a blur of colour, splashes of bright yellow daffodils and groups of fiery red tulips, blooming in the hazy afternoon sunshine, swaying softly in the afternoon breeze.

Jim was making small talk, commenting on the unusual hot weather they had been experiencing for this time of year; the land was dry, there had been little rain now for almost a month.

“We’re due a storm,” he prophesied, sniffing and beckoning with his head at the growing clouds in the sky.

Why was it that people always talked of weather, when there was nothing else to say? Even Lisa, herself, was guilty of it. Every day at work, there was a steady stream of customers who enjoyed chatting about the weather and forecasting what it would be like tomorrow, thatand also bodily ailments. Lisa’s kind and friendly nature endeared her to many of the customers, and the elderly regulars often confided in her, disclosing medical and personal conditions; her popularity, coupled with her reliable and conscientious work ethics, meant that she was always given first refusal to any overtime hours. Lisa was working extra hours again tomorrow. It was usually her day off, but Judith was on holiday with her children, so Lisa had another early shift, starting at eight. Her reverie was broken by a sudden small jolt as the car rode over a speed bump. Inside the car and with no air conditioning on, it had grown stifling hot. Already feeling flustered, Lisa’s temperature was being increased by the heat of the enclosed space. She reached out a sticky hand and wound down the window. A cool breeze rushed in, cooling the car and bringing Lisa’s temperature down again.

“How’s the singing going, Lisa?” Jim asked, with interest.

Lisa smiled at the mention of her other, far more interesting career.

“Good thanks,” Lisa replied, “I’m really enjoying the gigs at Belles.”

Her thoughts turned to last night. It had been her third gig there in a month, and Lisa felt it had been a success. She measured this against the crowd’s response, which had been pretty good. There had been applause and shouts of encouragement last night from the audience. Lisa had always been modest about her achievements, yet the owners of the club had been very impressed. After three consecutive entertaining and very good sessions, which had people dancing in their seats, they had asked Lisa to sing this coming Friday evening. A weekend gig was definitely an improvement in prospects. The audience was bigger, and the money was better. Lisa felt nervous thinking about the impending gig, she always did, worrying about her song choice, her choice of clothes, but once she was on that stage, she managed to override her nerves and really shine; the shy, introvert Lisa was overtaken by the melodious, extrovert Lisa.

Naturally shy as a child and also as an adult, people were often shocked when they saw her on stage and heard her singing. Lisa had never been one of the flamboyant, popular people at school, like her friend Emma. In comparison, she had preferred to remain understated, pale but interesting in the background. It had not been a shock to her parents however. Lisa had loved singing; from a very early age she had shown a talent for music, during primary school where she learnt to play the violin. It came naturally to Lisa. Jayne and Tom indulged her passion, recognizing her talent, and spurred on further by the glowing encouragement of her teachers, they paid for her to have piano lessons during secondary school.

Lisa had performed regularly during her school years: acting and singing for school plays and concerts. At fifteen, she had joined the youth orchestra, travelling to Switzerland, Belgium and France. Lisa had found it exciting and enjoyable visiting and performing in other countries, but also nerve wracking being away from home, and although she had enjoyed the experience, she had been more than a little homesick. It was at school that she had met Jake; tall, light brown hair, handsome and in the same year at school, he was similar in many ways to Lisa in both his personality and his interests. Jake was quiet, kind and sensitive and very musical. He played the guitar and piano. It was during their visits with the youth orchestra that they had become good friends, helping each other with school work and projects and going to concerts together. A few years later, romance had blossomed between them.

“How’s Jake?” Jim asked, as if sensing Lisa’s thoughts.

“He’s okay …” she paused, “I think.”

It had been almost one month now since Lisa had last heard from Jake. The last six months their romance had fizzled out, he had moved to the city, landing a job as a store manager for a highly reputable fashion outlet. Lisa had no inclination to move to the city, she loved living in Little Hamsden. It was then that Lisa realised she didn’t really love Jake. Sure, she was very fond of him, but her feelings were not strong enough for her to uproot and move miles away to a strange place, leaving behind all the people that she did love and an environment that she felt safe and secure in. That was until today, she thought ruefully.

Even before Jake had been successfully promoted to the larger city branch, their relationship had deteriorated. There was an evident lack of sparkle and passion between them, they were more like brother and sister. So, they had parted with the remnant that they would remain good friends, but over the last two months, the calls and the text messages between them had become fewer. It was a mutual thing, Lisa thought sadly, but they were still bound to see each other, as Jake’s family lived locally and he would be visiting them often, or so his mother repeated each time she saw Lisa in the café. Jake’s mother, Carole, had been more upset by the breakdown in their relationship than either Lisa or Jake, secretly hoping that they would announce their engagement this summer. Lisa’s parents had remained neutral, they liked Jake but wanted Lisa to be happy and accepted it as being her choice. Her sister was of a similar opinion to Carole, feeling that the time was right for her sister to be a Mum, and herself to be an Auntie who could return the favour, by spoiling her niece or nephew rotten.

“I saw his mum yesterday, and she was telling me he’s doing well with his new job,” Jim added conversationally. “Mind you, Carole Hopkins is sure to say that,” he added as a truthful afterthought.

Lisa nodded distractedly, her thoughts were elsewhere. They had almost reached the lake now. The road branched off, and they turned onto a dirt track, pebbles scattering under the heavy crunch of the tyres. Tom slowed down. On either side of the track, clusters of trees clung together, their branches overhanging and entwined, small Aspens with heart shaped leaves adorned with purple and green catkins, and opposite them stood a row of Horse Chestnuts swathed with pretty creamy flowers spotted with yellow, pinks and oranges. Tom stopped the car, the engine shuddered to a halt as he removed the key from the ignition. Lisa gulped, undoing her seat belt. She clambered out of the police car, glad to stretch her legs, for she had been sitting, waiting, for most of the afternoon. The scent of meadowsweet, a wild flower, enveloped her in a sickly embrace, and she looked around. There was a cluster of them behind her, tall slender and creamy white. Lisa felt nervous. The girl’s face flashed in front of her, her stomach flipped over.

“You okay?” Her father asked, concerned by the look on her face. She nodded quickly. “Take us to where you were,” he continued quietly.

Lisa started walking, leading the way, looking around for any signs of the couple. Tom and Jim were looking on the dirt path for signs of tire tracks or footprints. It was quiet, she couldn’t hear any birds singing, the peace of the afternoon had been shattered. The wind was whipping up again, the branches of the trees were bending back and forth. Clusters of Lady’s Smock and Greater Stitchwort flowers rattled in the intermittent gusts. Lisa remembered picking them as a child for her mother. They were bundles of lilacs and whites and looked pretty when put together in a vase over the fireplace. Today they looked iridescent when rays of sunshine beamed upon their petals.

They were almost at the lake. The area was becoming darkened as it was enclosed by the trees and shrubs surrounding them. As the lake came into view, a magnificent Weeping Willow could be seen, hanging its head on the shore, its branches dangling in the water like tendrils of hair. Lisa could see her boat in the position she had last left it, hurriedly pulled up to shore, squashing grass and wild flowers underneath its weight.

“It was here that they disappeared …” She trailed off, with foreboding tingeing her voice. “Into the trees.”

Lisa pointed a finger beyond the boat to the woods. Jim hooked a casual arm over her shoulders, smiling down at her.

“Come on,” he urged firmly. “Let’s go and have a look, see if we can find anything.”

They started walking, Jim asking questions, while Tom strolled leisurely behind, jotting down Lisa’s replies. She pointed out her approximate position on the lake and where the couple had been when she first saw them.

“What were they wearing again honey?” Jim asked, rubbing his chin and looking out across the lake.

“She had jeans on, dark, blue denim,” Lisa answered, “and a red t-shirt, she was slim with blond hair, pulled back into a ponytail.” She reached out a hand and touched the back of her head as she spoke the words. “I can’t be absolutely certain about him though … he had dark trousers on, blue or black I think,” she speculated, “and a white shirt,” her attention at the time had been more focused on the girl.

“A tie?” Tom interjected, clearing his throat.

He was standing by the side of Jim, still jotting down notes. Lisa shook her head emphatically.

“No. He was quite stocky, not much hair, erm …” Her mind wandered, searching for other suitable adjectives to describe him, “tall.”

“Okay,” Tom said, closing his notebook. “That’s a pretty good I.D.”

“How about we have a look around,” Jim suggested.

Lisa nodded, striding purposefully forwards, towards the lake where the girl had tried to flee and the man had given chase. She showed them the route the girl had taken to try to escape.

“She ran all along here,” she summarised simply, pointing. “Then she fell and he caught her.”

She was unable to tell them the exact spot, but she remembered that the girl hadn’t run far. Lisa veered off the path and began walking towards the trees, looking down for signs of footprints. But on such a hot day and without rain, they had left no impressions on the ground. The three of them separated slightly, going in different directions as they searched the wild environment around them for signs of clues.

Ten minutes had passed, and Lisa had walked further into the woods. She hadn’t extended her earlier search this far. It was darker here, the light was partially blocked by the tall, overhanging branches. She shivered in the shadows and crossed her arms for warmth. From the bushes behind her, she heard a rustling and spun around. A rabbit hopped out of an Osier shrub, its whiskers coloured yellow, a natural dye transferred from the furry catkins. Lisa sighed, smiling as the rabbit rubbed its nose sweetly and then hopped away. She decided that she had delved into the woods far enough, when something glistening caught her eye. She moved forward, her eyes focussing on the shining object. It was coming from the shrub. There it was again, a small ray of light that reminded her of the effect you get when sunlight reflects off a sun catcher on a windowpane. Lisa knelt down, fumbling through the leaves, searching with her fingers. She suddenly felt something cold and hard and enclosed her hand around it in a tight grip. She pulled her arm back and looked down into her open palm. It was a bracelet; round and silver with charms hanging off it. It shimmered in the low light of the woods. It was very pretty, Lisa thought, gazing down at it. As she called her dad’s name with urgency in her voice, she knew that it belonged to the girl.