Have You Seen Her: The new psychological thriller from bestseller Lisa Hall

‘Are they looking anywhere else?’ I ask. I hadn’t felt able to ask DI Dove for any information this morning, or indeed last night, not in front of Fran and Dominic. After all, Laurel isn’t my daughter, as Fran regularly goes to great lengths to remind me.

‘Mainly the woods this morning, I think, and then out into the lane,’ Jess says, her cheeks pink with the cold. She’s remembered to put wellies on, at least. ‘They said the main area of the field was searched last night, but they want to search again in daylight. Police are going door-to-door through the main road to the village this morning as well, I believe. Hopefully someone saw something that might point them in the right direction.’

We reach the edge of the woods, the rough path in front of us splitting in two just a few yards into the bushes. Jess stops and points to the left. ‘I’ll go that way, you take the right-hand path. Meet back here in an hour?’

‘OK. Jess . . .’ I say, panic starting to beat in my chest as I look towards the thick overhang of trees above me. It’s winter, and the branches are bare, but they reach towards each other, tangling their limbs together leaving dark, sinister shadows across the mulchy forest floor. ‘What am I looking for?’ I blink rapidly, to fight back the tears that spring to my eyes.

‘Oh, Anna.’ Jess reaches for my hand, clasping it in her gloved palm, transferring warmth to my cold fingers. ‘Anything – anything at all that doesn’t look right. Bushes that have been flattened, any signs of . . . disturbance.’ She blinks hard. ‘The police gave us a talk when we all arrived at the hall, told us what sort of things we should be looking out for. We’ll find her, Anna, I’m positive we will.’

I give her a watery smile and wish that I shared her conviction. She steps away, on to the left-hand fork of the path and I turn to the right, keeping my eyes trained on the ground for the first few feet, anxious in case I miss something. Then I realise that some of the tree branches are shoulder or even head height to Laurel, and I might have missed something that may have caught on the bony fingers of the branches.

I retrace my steps back to the edge of the wood, a flash of colour catching my eye as I reach the outskirts. It’s Dominic’s yellow ski jacket, and he paces backwards and forwards a little way from the entrance to the woods, mobile phone clamped to his ear, his breath escaping in tiny clouds of vapour as he speaks. I slide my thin frame behind the nearest tree, straining my ears to try and hear what he’s saying. He paces the same route over and over, shoving a hand through his hair until it sticks up in short silver spikes, but it’s no good, I’m too far away to hear him.

I start to creep backwards, into the shadows of the woods, when a branch cracks under my trainer, and Dominic looks up. He starts to walk towards the woods, when whoever is on the other end of the line says something he clearly doesn’t like. He hangs up with an angry curse and stares at the phone for a moment as if wondering whether to throw it at the nearest tree. After the way he reacted earlier, grabbing me when I mentioned his whereabouts last night, I can’t help but feel nervous – but he tucks the phone into his back pocket and walks off towards the hall. I let out a shaky sigh of relief and edge back onto the path, my eyes combing every branch.

The damp, mulchy path squelches underfoot as I get further into the wooded area, muddy water leaching up from the leaf litter and soaking my white trainers. This far up there is a large expanse of woodland before the lake, and I am glad that I don’t have to search near the water. The thought of finding something that belongs to Laurel close to the edge of that dark, dank, silty water makes my blood run cold. As does what I see in front of me next: a pile of leaves, clearly recently disturbed, their wet, smelly undersides exposed to the open air, filling the area with the scent of decay.

As I edge closer, I see they have been carved into ruts, as though something (or someone, my brain hisses) has been dragged through them. As though two tiny little feet have been pulled through the wet, mulchy mess, a voice whispers in the back of my mind. I raise my eyes to follow the line of rutted leaves towards a diamond mesh fence that runs along the perimeter of the woods, separating it from the field behind. The diamond mesh fence that has clearly been cut, to reveal a small opening. Perfect for the size of a small child.

Heart thumping, a wash of nausea making me feel dizzy, I hesitate, unsure whether to shout for Jess, or take a closer look. It might be nothing, I whisper to myself, running my tongue over dry lips. I step close to the fence, careful not to place my feet anywhere near the drag marks, and peer into the field beyond. I see nothing at first, until I slide through the opening in the fence and into the field. The damp grass near the fence has been flattened down, and a trail of bent stems lead away from the fencing towards the other side of the field – as though someone has walked a path through the longer grass. I look behind me, telling myself that if Jess is in sight I’ll call her over, but there is no one. From here, I can’t even hear the searchers calling Laurel’s name. Stepping to one side, so I create my own path, I follow the trail over the slight hill, stopping short as I see where the path of flattened grass leads to.

A camp. There are eight or nine caravans parked up on the far side of the field, no doubt having forced their way in by cutting the padlock off the gate on the other side. It’s happened more times than anyone cares to mention in Oxbury; the travellers’ arrival usually gets reported to both the police and the council within hours of them pitching up. Nice middle-class people from Surrey don’t want travellers in their midst. Obviously, this time the police have been too busy to come out and move them on, and if they only arrived last night there’s a chance that no one else has even noticed them yet. I force my feet on towards the camp, ignoring the flip of my stomach as I get closer, nervous at having to speak to them. The only experience I’ve had of them before was when one of them threatened to smash up the Co-op after he got caught pinching bacon, while I was buying sweets for Laurel. As I get closer, I see two men standing outside one of the caravans, both turning to face me as I get within talking distance.

‘Hello,’ I say, my mouth dry again. They are both tall and well-built, their skin tanned a dark brown, roll-up cigarettes dangling from their mouths. Neither of them wears shirts with sleeves despite the cold, and I see the tattoos on one of them ripple as he raises a hand to push his hair back from his face, his dark curls dotted with droplets of water from the mist.

He speaks, his voice rough. ‘What d’yer want?’

‘I’m looking for a little girl,’ I say, running my tongue over my lips. ‘She went missing from the fireworks party in the field over there last night,’ I point behind the trees, ‘there’s a huge search operation being organised by the police.’

With an anxious glance at his friend, the tattoo guy speaks again. ‘We don’t know nothing.’

‘Are you sure you haven’t seen anything? No one coming through here last night . . .’ I break off, about to mention the drag marks and the cut in the fence before common sense catches up with me.

‘We said, we don’t know nothing.’ The second, slightly smaller guy takes a step towards me and I flinch a little, hating myself straight away for looking so weak. Adrenaline shoots through me, leaving my knees wobbly. ‘Get lost.’

‘OK, thank you. Forget it, I’m going. Sorry,’ I babble, almost falling over myself to get back through the fence to where other people are. I’m intent on finding a police officer to explain about the drag marks, then I can go home and check on Fran and wait for Laurel, and forget about the intense, intimidating stare that these two guys laid on me. And I would forget, only . . .

I stop, something moving in my line of vision, something that makes my breath catch in my throat. I see it again, from the corner of my eye, the thing that made me stop in my tracks and I turn my head a fraction towards the caravan immediately behind the two men.

‘I’m going,’ I say again, holding my shaking hands up in surrender, as they both take a step towards me, my heart thumping double time in my chest as I try and process what I just glimpsed. The back of a head, at the window of the caravan. A tiny, blonde head, with a high ponytail, that I’m sure I last saw being stuffed into a sparkly silver bobble hat.

CHAPTER 5 (#ulink_5d6c8781-03ae-57cb-8868-a67cf6704f1b)

I manage to walk calmly away, resisting the urge to run until I reach the mesh fencing and I am sure I am out of sight of the two travellers. I squeeze my way hurriedly through the tiny gap, the sharp cut edge of the fence slicing into my fingertip, catching my jacket as I go. Shit. I’ve probably contaminated a crime scene now as well. My shoes sliding on the damp, muddy forest floor, I rush back towards the field, branches grabbing at me, my hair falling over my face and my breath coming in short hitches that strike up the stitch in my side again. Coming out of the woods I look around, hoping to see a police officer, or Jess at the very least, but everyone seems to be tied up, busy with their own searches so I push on towards the school hall.

Falling through the double doors, I call out, ‘Is there a police officer here?’ A sob catches in my throat and I have to work hard to swallow it back down, not wanting to lose it in front of the volunteers.

‘Oh gosh, you need to sit down, here, come this way.’ The mousy woman from the PTA appears by my side, her hand grabbing at my forearm and tugging me towards a chair. ‘Let me help you.’

‘I don’t need to sit down.’ I shake myself free impatiently, trying to see over the tops of people’s heads to catch a glimpse of DI Dove, or perhaps Dominic.

‘Anna? There you are.’ Jess appears from the throng of people that have edged their way towards me. ‘I waited for you and you never came . . . look at the state of you. Oh God, you’re bleeding!’ She grasps my hand tightly. ‘What happened?’

I glance down at the mud that cakes my shoes and splatters up the legs of my jeans. A thin trickle of blood stains my fingertips where I caught myself on the mesh, and there is a long rip in the arm of my jacket from the fencing. I can feel the sweat break out over my skin again. ‘A police officer, Jess. Are there any still here or are they all doing the door-to-door?’

‘I’m here,’ a voice says behind me, and I turn to see DI Dove.

‘Oh, thank God.’ I resist the urge to throw myself on him in relief. ‘I found something, out there on the other side of the woods.’

‘OK,’ Dove pulls me to one side, away from prying eyes and straining ears. ‘What did you find? Tell me.’

‘At the edge of the woods – where it meets Briars Meadow – the fencing has been cut. There are drag marks . . . I crawled through it, and they’re there . . .’

‘Whoa, not so fast.’ DI Dove waves his hand up and down in a gesture designed to slow me. ‘Who is there?’

‘The travellers,’ I say, my breathing finally calming. ‘There are eight or nine caravans, all parked in the field, in the usual spot. There are drag marks, like feet, leading to the cut in the fence and then the grass is all beaten down as though someone has walked through there. But that’s not it. I saw her.’

‘You saw her? Who? Laurel?’ A spark gleams in his eye and I see why he is a detective – he loves the thrill of the chase.

‘I think so. I saw her hair. It’s in a high ponytail, she was sitting in the window of one of the caravans. I’m sure it was her. You have to go! You have to go and see if it really is her!’ My voice rises, and several people glance our way. There is no sign of Dominic, and I hope that they find him before someone tells him I saw something. DI Dove looks around, one hand on my shoulder.

‘We need someone to take you home,’ he says, as I shake my head.

‘I can take her,’ a voice pipes up, and it’s her again, the mousy woman.

‘No, I’m not leaving. I need . . . I want to be here when you bring Laurel back.’

‘Anna, it might not even be Laurel. And I need you to be with Fran, she’s on her own . . . I mean, Kelly is there, but it’s best if either you or Dominic stay with her. Just in case.’ Just in case there’s bad news. That’s what he means. Reluctantly I give a slow nod, just as Jess arrives at my side.

‘Come on,’ she says, giving a curious glance in DI Dove’s direction. ‘I have to take Daisy back to the house anyway, she’s getting bored. She keeps asking where Laurel is.’ Her mouth turns down. ‘Best to get her out of here.’

I let Jess lead me out of the hall, away and towards the lane, watching as Dove calls over another police officer, waving his arms and gesturing. There is a flash of yellow as Dominic appears from behind the building and sees Dove, changing his course to walk over to the policeman. Jess follows my gaze.

‘Let’s get you back,’ she says, one hand on my arm, one holding tightly to Daisy.

‘I should stay,’ I insist, eyes fixed on Dominic as Dove talks at him, hands moving as he shakes his head, clearly telling Dominic to stay where he is.

‘You can’t,’ Jess says firmly, ‘Dove told you to leave . . . and he’s right. Someone needs to be with Fran, whether it is Laurel or it isn’t, and better it’s you than some police officer that she barely knows.’ Especially if it isn’t Laurel, I think, letting Jess guide me away. I can’t imagine how Fran will react if it turns out that it isn’t her after all.

Jess leaves me at the front gate, smiling at Kelly who has stepped outside to the garden to have a cigarette. She smiles sheepishly back, as if ashamed to have been caught on a break.

‘I’ll be fine, Jess, you go.’ I step back, waggling my fingers at Daisy. Jess looks uncertain, but I nod at her enthusiastically. ‘Honestly, I’ll be fine. Kelly’s here. You go.’ I want her gone before Fran looks out the window and sees Daisy. I can’t imagine that she’d want to see her daughter’s best friend, not when her own child is gone. If I’m honest I’m finding it hard enough to see Daisy without Laurel beside her, and I am relieved when Jess finally turns to leave.

‘Are you OK?’ Kelly lets out a stream of smoke, picking a tiny piece of tobacco from between her teeth, and I have to struggle to stop my mouth curling up in disgust. The smell of cigarette smoke always puts me on edge. ‘I’ve spoken to DI Dove.’ So, she does know what’s going on over at the field. ‘I haven’t told Fran yet. I was waiting for you to get back. I thought she might need you.’

‘I’ll tell her,’ I say, ‘I don’t mind. No offence, but it might be better coming from me than from you. She knows me. She trusts me.’ When it suits her. Kelly wavers for a second before she gives a small nod.

‘OK.’ She stubs out her cigarette and throws the butt into the black bin. ‘Let’s head back in.’