Like he was scared of something.
“What’s your name?” she said.
“Ben.”
“Okay, Ben. I’m Katie. I’m Chris’s sister.”
“He never said anything about a sister. And you don’t look much like him.”
“Maybe he didn’t tell you everything about his life. I’m here because his family is worried about him. What did you mean one of the people watching them?”
He hesitated.
“Talk to me, Ben,” she said. “I’m trying to help Chris too.”
And after another few seconds of silence, he did.
He told her that Chris had moved into this apartment about a year and a half ago, and Chris had been kind to him from the beginning: saying hello and giving him money as and when he could. James Alderson, Chris’s boyfriend, had arrived on the scene about a year ago. Alderson was doing a PhD in art at the university, and Ben said he had been nice too.
And for a while, everything had been fine.
“But then I saw Chris … maybe last week?” Ben said. “He looked more nervous than usual. You know how he always seemed so calm and in control of himself, right?”
“Yes,” Katie lied.
“Well, he wasn’t like that anymore. He was really on edge.”
Chris hadn’t wanted to tell Ben what was wrong at first, but finally he’d relented. He thought someone was following him, and because Ben had his eyes and ears on the street, Chris asked him to keep a watch out and let him know if he saw anything suspicious. Anyone loitering in the area who didn’t belong or seemed like they were watching the apartment.
Any cars that looked out of place.
“What kind of car?” Katie said quickly.
“A posh one, Chris said. Like something a rich person would drive.”
That settled her slightly.
“And did you see anything?”
“I don’t know.” Ben looked uneasy. “Maybe—but not a car. A man. It was the middle of the night when there was nobody else around. I didn’t really see the guy. He was standing in a shop doorway a little way along the street. Hardly moving. I thought he was a shadow at first.”
“What did he look like?”
“I couldn’t see him properly. He was tall though. Big. And there was a bad feeling coming off him. It’s usually peaceful at that time, and I like being out and about because nobody else is. But that night, my skin was tingling. I had this feeling like there was something dangerous nearby. And when I spotted this man, I realized it was him I was scared of. That he was someone who enjoyed doing really bad things to people.”
“What happened afterward?”
“I told Chris—this was a few days ago. And then I saw him and James together. They had these big backpacks on, like they were heading off on an adventure. I’ve not seen them since.”
“Did you see the man in the doorway again?”
“No. But I’ve felt things. It doesn’t seem safe around here anymore.” He looked upset now. “Are Chris and James in trouble?”
Katie thought about it. Then shook her head.
“I honestly don’t know. But listen, there’s some change beside the TV. It’s not a lot, but I’m sure Chris would be happy for you to have it.”
Ben looked at her warily for a second, then stood up and disappeared into the front room. A few seconds later, he emerged back onto the landing, nodded at her once, then made his way back down the stairs.
She waited for a couple of minutes, trying to calm herself down.
And thinking.
She had been reluctant to come inside here, but if nothing else, she had imagined doing so would at least provide an answer as to what had happened to her brother. Instead, all she had found were questions. Was he in trouble? While she couldn’t necessarily trust everything Ben had just told her, she was sure there had been grains of truth in there. The apartment really did feel abandoned. And that chimed with what her mother had said—that her brother had been scared of someone.
But who?
Someone who enjoyed doing really bad things to people.
Katie went outside and locked the front door behind her. There was no sign of Ben; she was alone on the street right now. But it felt like she was being watched. There was an itch at the back of her neck.
Leaves skittered across the street as a cold breeze picked up.
You should go home now.
Yes, she thought. She really should. Perhaps she wouldn’t have been able to forgive herself if she hadn’t checked in on Chris, but there were limits. Her brother wasn’t her responsibility anymore. Whatever trouble he might have gotten himself into, it wasn’t her job to get him out of it—especially when she had her own family to think about.
There’s only so much of yourself you can give.
She got in the car and started off.
But she kept checking the rearview mirror as she drove. The traffic was relatively sparse, but there were a few vehicles behind her, and even though the idea she might be followed was ridiculous, she still found herself keeping an eye on them, and feeling a sense of relief as each one turned steadily off.
By the time she passed the prison, there was only one left.
It was a fair way back, but it seemed to be maintaining a steady distance, keeping pace with the speed she was driving. Its headlights were on full beam, so that it was impossible to make out the size of vehicle, never mind the type or color, and whoever was behind the wheel was lost in darkness.
Her heart began beating a little faster again.
The car followed her as she drove back toward the main roads that circled the city center. However much she varied her speed, it kept the same steady distance behind her.
After a while, the main road divided into two lanes, the left peeling off in the direction of her village. She signaled and took the turn, watching the mirror as she did, then turning her head to look out the window. The car stayed on the main road—but suddenly accelerated so hard that it was out of sight almost before she could see it properly. The streetlights bleached the vehicle of color.
But she caught the briefest flash of a fish-white face staring out at her.
She turned back and stared ahead, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Her heart was thudding. And even though she tried to tell herself it had just been her imagination—that the vehicle had simply been behind her, and not following her at all—Siena’s words came back to her again as she drove, and she felt her nerves begin to sing.
Red car, Mommy.
And what did that mean?
Something terrible and incomprehensible.
Something that had always been coming for you, but which you wouldn’t even see until it swerved in out of nowhere and changed your world forever.
PART TWO
Eight
It is March 6, 1956.
Alan is ten years old, and he is looking down at the body of his mother. She is lying in the kitchen, her skull cracked like a broken cup, and her blood already drying between the tiles. An hour earlier, he listened to his father repeatedly smacking her head against the floor there—a sickening sound that was barely muffled by the closed door and which is still replaying in his head now.
So much so that he can barely hear his brother.
Alan turns slightly, faint and adrift.