As I hurried down the gravel path, I could just make out Aiden’s form moving through the dark. He was heading down towards the road. I rushed along as fast as I could whilst scrolling through my phone. I had to call DCI Stevenson. He was the only one who knew the case.
He answered on the first call.
“It’s Emma. Jake attacked me, Rob, and Aiden. I think I killed him. He’s at Josie Barratt’s house. Aiden has gone running off. I’m following him.”
“No. Emma, stay where you are. I’m on my way.”
“I have to follow him.” I stopped as another contraction rippled through me. I had no idea how often they were coming. Every five minutes? I couldn’t tell.
“Emma? Are you all right?”
“I’m in labour.”
“Shit. Stay where you are. We’ll have an ambulance—”
“I’ve already called it.” Up ahead, barely visible in the pouring rain, Aiden took a sharp turn away from the road. I staggered down the steep hill to see better. “I think Aiden is heading into the woods.”
“Rough Valley?” Stevenson asked.
“Yeah. I think he’s going to go in.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Did you find the garage?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“Good,” I replied, and hung up. I couldn’t keep up the pace while I was distracted by talking.
I saw Aiden slow down as he entered the boundary into Rough Valley. He seemed to be trying to figure out which direction to take. That suggested that there was somewhere he wanted to go. There was a purpose to him entering the woods.
My shoes slipped down a grassy bank as I followed him towards the dark, thick trees. It was muddy underfoot. My clothes were soaked, but at least the downpour had washed away most of the blood from my face. My head was throbbing from Jake’s fists, my hand was sore and bleeding from the deep cut across my palm, but I was determined to keep my boy within eyeshot. He had been taken from me ten years ago, and I was not going to allow that to happen again. I never wanted to let him out of my sight ever again.
I hurried into the trees. The wet grass stuck to my jeans. I was moving as fast as I possibly could, given the circumstances, and I couldn’t help but wonder if any woman had been through anything like this while being in labour. Then I realised, of course they had. Of course. Women gave birth in war-torn countries. Women were forced to run for their lives. Children survived the most horrific of circumstances. Humans are strong, resilient, and determined creatures. I gritted my teeth and staggered on, determined that my baby would wait for me. I could hang on and hang on until I was sure Aiden was going to be safe, too.
The sun was beginning to set. Rain hammered down onto the fallen leaves, turning the ground into mulch. Despite the freezing rain, I was warm. The effort of moving faster than my pregnant body was accustomed to had taken its toll, and my muscles ached, but I was resolute in my purpose. I would find my son. I would take him to safety.
He moved swiftly, and that made it difficult to follow the back of his red jumper. I kept thinking about the day they pulled his red coat from the river. That wouldn’t happen today. It would never happen again, I’d make sure of it.
Aiden slowed down and made three jagged turns in opposite directions. I could see that he was trying to figure out where to go.
“Aiden!” I called. “Please don’t be scared, just let me walk with you.”
He turned to stare at me. Ghoul-like in the dark forest, his pale face contrasted against the almost pitch-black background of the close thicket of trees.
“Talk to me,” I said. “I know you can. Please talk to me and tell me what you’re trying to do. I want to help you.”
But he didn’t speak. He went back to moving through the trees. Slipping through them like a spectre.
A contraction tore through me and I doubled over in pain, trying my best to ignore it so I could follow Aiden through the forest. To my surprise, after the pain had faded, I looked up to see Aiden had stopped. He was facing me. When I was recovered, he started moving again.
He wanted me to follow him.
43
Sometimes, when I hold Aiden close, I imagine that I can smell the scent of the forest from that night. It’s not a completely pleasant smell. There’s the fresh scent of pine and rainwater, but along with it comes the must of wet leaves, the mildewed earthiness of mud, and the metallic hint of blood. A shivers runs down my spine every time I remember that night, and how my clothes were sodden from the rain. My feet ache from the memory of slipping through wet leaves and mud. I’m reminded, by the constriction in my chest, of how short of breath I was. My abdomen clenches as I remember the pain of my contractions.
Would I prefer to be able to hold my son and not think of these things? Of course. As much as I’d like to close my eyes without seeing Rob’s blood on Josie’s corridor tiles or Jake’s dull, determined gaze as he approached me with Hugh’s hunting knife.