21 – TRAPPED

I scramble for the cover of a pile of tractor tyres, not caring anymore whether it's mud or cow excrement I'm dragging myself through.

Peeping around the corner though, I realise he wasn't aiming at me. He's blown off the barn padlock. He pushes the barn door open and steps in, out of sight. My heart almost stops with dread. Injured, exposed and trapped, Holly has no chance to flee.

I scramble to my feet again, unsure what to do. I look around, searching for Farmer Ackerman's house. The gunshot has set a dog barking frantically, but I can't see where. Cows low and chickens chuckle at the disturbance but no human voice calls out. Do I go for help?

I look back at the barn. The vast door stands ominously open, a black space where Mr Winslow and Holly face off against one another. If I go for help now, it'll be too late for Holly.

I hurry back towards the barn, slowing as I approaching, muting my step. I can hear Mr Winslow's and Holly's voices coming from within.

Taking care to not make a sound, I peep around the open doorway. A torch beam highlights Holly cowering behind a pile of rotten roof beams and old horse rugs. Clear on her face in the stark glare of light is fear and anger. As my eyes adjust I see Mr Winslow standing in the middle of the barn, gun and torch raised.

'Come now, Holly,' Mr Winslow says, his voice so alluring and gentle it sends a shiver down my spine. 'Things have been blown wildly out of proportion, haven't they? Why would I kill Georgia? I know suicide is tough to understand, but it is what happened.'

'Crap!' exclaims Holly. 'Georgia didn't commit suicide. You drowned her!'

Mr Winslow sighs and shakes his head. 'If only you hadn't stuck your nose where it doesn't belong, we wouldn't be here now.'

I look around and spot a Jenga jumble of old planks piled next to the barn wall. I silently lift one off the top and try it for size. It's not too heavy but solid enough to make an impact. I tiptoe back to the barn, my knees quaking at the prospect of entering.

Mr Winslow and Holly are much too caught up in their confrontation to notice me though. Mr Winslow has partly turned his back to me.

'I wasn't sticking my nose into anything!' says Holly. 'I was simply taking long exposure shots of the back yard at night. Then Georgia's body is found floating in the river down the bottom.' Her voice catches and she pauses. 'And everyone just presumes she's committed suicide. Oh, her mother's a manic depressive, so she must be too! Well, she wasn't! Then I saw what you did! Even if you kill me too, you'll still be found out. It's all on record.'

'Is that so?' Mr Winslow's voice is icily calm. He's certainly not denying the accusation.

'It's all on the memory card. All the proof.'

'But you don't have the memory card anymore, do you?' Mr Winslow counters and Holly hesitates.

'It –'

I tread lightly on the barn's earthen floor, feeling the walls closing in on me, trapping me, the further I enter. I creep across to a row of wooden pillars that line each side of the barn to support the upper level.

'When Noa so kindly called me and told me where you were,' Mr Winslow goes on, 'I was puzzled at first why you'd stayed so close to home, why you hadn't gone to the police with your allegations.' He laughs a little. 'And then it occurred to me. You don't have the evidence you claim to have, do you?'

I pause in my approach, genuinely wanting to find out the whole story before I ambush him.

'That burglary we had the other day was you, wasn't it?' he continues. 'You were trying to get this memory card you speak of. What happened? Couldn't you find it?'

'I – I didn't – it was friends.' Holly looks reluctant to carry on. 'They were looking for the back-up. I had the original, but it was burnt in the fire. But I'd hid the back-up so well because I was afraid you were going to find it that they couldn't find it either.'

I step closer, intrigued by their dawning confessions. I can hear Mr Winslow breathing, see him readjust his hold on the handgun.

'How do you know I haven't already found it?' he asks. 'Maybe that was why your friends were unsuccessful.'

Holly narrows her eyes at him. 'Because if that was the case, I'd be dead by now. The only reason I'm still alive is because there's proof floating around somewhere of your crimes…'

Gripping the plank tightly I lift it up high above my head.

'…and sooner or later you're going to have to pay for it –' Holly pauses as she catches sight of me behind her father.

Her reaction is enough to alert Mr Winslow's attention. He turns just as I'm about to bring the plank down on his head. Instead it strikes his shoulder and tumbles out of my hands.

With a muffled grunt, Mr Winslow is quick to recover. He swings the torch and I cry out as it crashes into my cheek, rattling my teeth, sending pain shooting through my cheekbone and eye socket. I fall to the ground and Mr Winslow kicks dirt in my face.

'Get over there, you sneaky rat! Go on!'

Mindful that the gun is now pointed at my head, I scramble over to the front of the pile of horse rugs and rotten beams. I'm sure the look of dread written on Holly's face is mirrored on mine.

'Come out from behind there, Holly, so I can see you both properly,' her father commands.

She doesn't move.

'Move, or I'll shoot your little friend here.'

He turns the torch on me and the glaring light blinds me. I know the gun is pointed at me now, but I'm thankful I can't see down the muzzle.

Holly limps out from behind the pile. She reaches out to hold my hand. Both of us are shaking so much, it takes a moment for our fingers to untangle and get a grip. Little though it be, it does feel better being in this together.

'There,' says Mr Winslow. 'Sit down. You too, Miss Drury.'

Holly awkwardly lowers herself to the dirty ground, her twisted foot stretched out in front, and I join her. Mr Winslow lowers the beam marginally and I get a better glimpse of his face. He looks but makes no comment on Holly's injury. A smeary smile soils his mouth.

'You think you're so clever, don't you?' he says. 'Thinking you can outsmart me? Naïve fanciful little children, arrogant teenagers who always think they know better than adults. I don't need to know where that stupid memory card is, Holly. By the time it is found, we'll all be long gone.'

He clicks back the hammer on the gun and moves his aim between me and Holly. My breath catches in my throat. I'm seriously not ready to die right now and I doubt Holly is either.

'So,' says Mr Winslow in a soft voice. 'Which of you wants to go first?'

My heart beats out of my chest. I don't want to die, but I'm also out of options. Nobody knows where we are, nobody is coming to the rescue. Then I remember something.

I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my fists until my nails dig painfully into my palms. Mr Winslow chuckles.

'It's a bit late for praying now, Noa. Although, before I shoot you, I would first like to thank you for tracking down my rather recalcitrant daughter. You have been most helpful.'

I hear his voice, sounding so polite like he's thanking the Queen for her invitation to tea. But I ignore him. My eyes remain tightly closed. The air remains hot and muggy.

'Come on, Max,' I whisper under my breath. 'Help me out here.'

The faintest of cool breezes flutters through the gaping doorway, so faint no one else notices it. Then suddenly an angry gust slams the door closed. The sound echoes around the empty space. Mr Winslow gets such a fright the gun goes off. A bullet slams into the pile of horse rugs above mine and Holly's heads, sending up a cloud of dust.

The air becomes thin and icy cold like the seasons have been turned upside down. Mr Winslow stumbles sideways. He swings the gun and torch around but only lights up the dull wooden walls of the barn. I catch the swirl of a spirit in the darkness and my heart leaps.

'Max?' I say.

'Who?' says Holly, looking confused and frightened.

'Max, is that you?'

The spirit sends Mr Winslow reeling again and he fires again, spinning around to catch his attacker. But the spirit is too fast. It's not Max though; it's someone with long straight black hair and long flowing clothes.

'Where are you?' Mr Winslow shouts, his voice shrill.

'Noa!' I hear Max yell from the far end of the barn. 'Over here!'

I squirm around. I've never been so pleased to see anyone in my life. 'Max!'

He's gesturing frantically for us to join him.

I glance at Mr Winslow. He looks terrified, whirling around, trying to locate the person who keeps shoving him. His torch beam flails wildly around, lighting up slumbering roof beams and piles of abandoned machinery. His attention is so caught up, he appears to have completely forgotten about us.

'Where are you? What are you?' Mr Winslow cries.

A second unknown spirit has joined the first and between them, they are keeping Mr Winslow busy.

'What's happening?' cries Holly, her voice high with fear.

I freeze as I recognise one of the spirits.

'Noa!' Max shouts.

I drag my eyes away from the spirit, and refocus. I grab Holly's hand and clamber to my feet. 'Come on, this is our chance.'

Holly cries out in pain and I do my best to support her, but we can't hang around any longer.

'Sorry, but we have to go. Come on!'

With Holly leaning against me, we limp over to Max who is gesticulating wildly to a small side doorway at the back that I hadn't yet spotted. It's bolted from the inside, but not locked. I tease the rusty bolts free. They resist for a moment then clang back.

'Hey!' shouts Mr Winslow, finally noticing our escape.

Another shot rings out, loud in the enclosed space and Holly and I fall through the open doorway back into the fresh air of the farm yard.

I'm not shot, and a quick look at Holly assures she isn't either.

Max is quickly beside me. 'Noa, are you okay? Hurry!'

'Boy, am I glad to see you,' I mutter.

His concerned expression abates for just a second, and I recognise the old teasing look in his eyes. He will probably remind me of those words sometime in the future when I'm less grateful of his presence.

'What? Who are you talking to?' says Holly, but she doesn't wait for an answer. 'Look!' She points to lights bouncing in the distance, on the other side of the farmyard.

'Hurry, Noa!' says Max, looking back into the barn. 'He's coming after you.'

'Come on,' I say, getting to my feet again. 'We're nearly there.'

We stumble onwards into the exposed farmyard. I hear a yell from behind us and look to see Mr Winslow running like a mad thing towards us. He shoots another four rounds at us, aiming wildly, missing his target.

I look to the lights approaching from the other end. They are getting closer, raised voices calling our names, but Mr Winslow will get to us before help does.

'Over here!' yells Max.

Following his lead, we duck behind a shed and I spot some old PVC piping lying in the shadows. I pick one up. It's a bit big to get a good grip on it, but it's swingable. I press myself up against the corner of the shed and wait. Max steps into the open, looking more ghostly than ever with the moonlight shining down on him, glancing off his cheekbones, shadowing the serious set to his jaw. He holds up his palm to me.

'When I say it,' he says, not taking his eyes off Mr Winslow. 'Ready… ready… ready!' His voice rises with each word.

'Now!'

I swing with all my might and catch Mr Winslow smartly in the face. He goes down with a yelp of pain and I dive for his gun.

Rolling and coming up on my knees, I point it at him. The gun weighs more than I expected it too. It feels ungainly and unfamiliar in my hands and I have trouble aiming it and keeping my finger on the trigger at the same time. I slowly climb to my feet, the gun slipping in my sweating hands.

Mr Winslow recovers from the hit and looks up at me, his eyes wild, his mouth and nose bleeding.

'Put the gun down, Noa,' he says. 'There's a good girl.'

'No!' I inhale sharply as my finger trembles against the trigger.

The shouts of people approaching are reassuringly close, but then I look at Mr Winslow, just feet away, evil and dangerous, too close.

Mr Winslow raises his hands marginally and I take a wobbly step back. I don't want to get too close in case he makes a dive at me. On the other hand I don't want to get too far away in case it affects my aim – that is if I can find it in me to even pull the trigger. My knees are trembling so bad, I can barely stand.

'Easy, Noa,' Max murmurs beside. I dart a quick glance at him. His face is deadly serious, his eyes wide and intense, flicking from me to the gun shaking in my hands.

Then I hear a familiar voice shout out above the commotion, 'Noa? Noa? Are you there?'

'Dad!' I exclaim, distracted by the welcome sound of my father's voice. 'Dad, over here –'

'Noa, watch out!' Max reaches forward to intervene, but it's too late.

Mr Winslow dives at me and grabs my ankles and pulls them from under me. I go down like a ninepin, completely taken by surprise. The gun flies out of my hand. I kick at Mr Winslow's hands holding my legs, at his body, anything to push away from him. His fingers dig into my legs as he pulls me back.

There's a moment of panic as we both scramble for the weapon. Mr Winslow strikes out and catches me on the ear. I hit the dirt again, my brain consumed by the intense fiery pain in my ear.

'Look out, Noa!' Max yells.

Mr Winslow, on his hands and knees, falls on the gun and turns to point it at me.

'Noa!' Max yells, and I can hear the fear in his voice.

It soaks through me like an icy rain and I stare down the barrel of the gun. Then out of nowhere a large black boot kicks the gun out of Mr Winslow's hands. I gasp and fall backwards. I recognise the dark spikes shining in the moonlight of Jonathan Kilpin as he throws himself on Mr Winslow. There's a ghastly thump as knuckles connect with flesh, again and again.

'You son of a –'

'Stop!' an authoritative voice shouts out. 'Stop right there! Police!'

Half a dozen policemen appear, their torches all beamed in on us. Jonathan and Mr Winslow pause momentarily in their struggle. Jonathan lets fly with one last punch and grounds a groaning Mr Winslow for good.

The police move in. They yank Jonathan to his feet.

'Don't hurt him!' Holly says, crawling out of the shadows. 'He was helping us!'

'Don't worry, miss,' says the policeman. 'We know whose side he's on.' With Jonathan out of the way, they roll Mr Winslow onto his stomach and jerk his arms behind his back and clip on a pair of handcuffs.

'Noa!' yells Dad. 'Where are you?' He appears, jacket flying, pushing through the ring of policemen.

'Dad!'

I clamber to my feet and collapse into his arms. Dad holds me so close I can barely breathe. All I hear is his panicked gasps.

'Oh, Noa.'

Finally, his grip on me relents.

'How did you know where to find us?' I ask.

Dad swallows and pulls himself together. I've never seen him so shaken. 'My phone. I got your message on my phone. Then I heard the shots.'

'But you were asleep, weren't you?'

'I – I had a dream…' Dad moistens his lips uncertainly. 'Your –' He looks around, looking almost sheepish then whispers, 'I'll tell you later.'

Recovering over a flask of hot sweet tea and leaning against Dad's car, he and I watch Mr Winslow being guided into the backseat of a police car. The blue lights tint the countryside around us, reflecting off the eyes of the cows that now wander around the yard, thanks to Mr Winslow leaving their gate open. People are still milling about, but everything has calmed down. I see Max walking our way, but then he sees I'm with Dad and he stops. A smile warms his face, warms his eyes, and I realise I mean as much to him as he does to me. He gives me a little wave then turns away to talk to an inquisitive heifer.

'So, it seems you were right about him,' Dad says.

'Who?' I say, still thinking about Max.

'Mr Winslow.' He gives me a wry smile. 'Maybe I should make you a partner in the business.'

I smile in return. 'I was right, but not in the way I expected to be. It wasn't until I realised Holly's Sharp Shot of the Week was of Farmer Ackerman's fire that she might still be alive. And even then, I still thought Jonathan had kidnapped her, him and Dylan. Is it true that Mr Winslow killed Holly's sister?'

Dad nods. 'So it would seem.'

I try to absorb the enormity of such a thing. To kill one's own child, he must have had to be very angry. Or very afraid.

'Why did he kill her?'

Dad points at a man in a trench coat talking to a policeman outside. 'Do you recognise that guy? That's the PI the Winslows hired after I gave up the case. He went over to Germany, discovered Henry Winslow is wanted by police for espionage.'

I gasp. 'Espionage? Who was he spying on?'

'Everyone, by the sounds of things. His books were just a cover. All these research trips that have required the Winslows move from country to country have been nothing more than a cover for his true profession – spying on foreign nationals.'

'And – what, did Georgia find out something that she shouldn't have, like a plot to kill the Queen?'

Dad shrugs. 'It's difficult to speculate, but by the sounds of things, his family didn't even know about his true profession at all. It might have been that Georgia just found out about that bit, never mind the gritty details. Whatever it was, it was enough to warrant Henry Winslow killing his own daughter and attempting to kill his other one when she discovered what he'd done.'

I sit back and blow on my tea. Wow, and I thought Dad and I had a dysfunctional family. 'What'll happen to them now?'

'He'll probably be extradited to Germany to stand trial for espionage and murder, possibly tack on attempted murder of you and Holly too. Either way, he's going to prison for a long, long time.'

'And Holly and her mother? Will they be all right?'

We look out to where Holly is sat in the back of an ambulance, her ankle now strapped and secure. Jonathan is beside her, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.

'Holly will be, at least,' says Dad.

The door to the police car slams shut and with a short whoop of the siren, it drives off. Holly waves at us from the ambulance before that door is also shut and they too depart.

Slowly, as the horizon begins to lighten with the dawn, everyone except the forensic team trickle away.

'You ready to go home? I bet you're tired,' Dad says, straightening up and rounding the hood to open the driver's door.

He saying it reinforces just how late it is and I feel suddenly drained. I desperately want my bed and to cuddle up with Spock. I finish off my tea and put the lid back on the flask. 'Yeah, let's go.' I think of the chaos of tonight, and for the first time remember Dad's words when he finally got here. 'Dad, what was it you were going to say earlier? How did you know I'd left a message on your phone?'

About to get into the car, Dad pauses. 'Your mother,' he says. 'I dreamt – she woke me up. It wasn't like a normal dream…' A little frown creases his forehead. 'She woke me, told me you were in trouble.'

I look back at the activities still going on in the farm yard. I see Max has lost interest in the cows, or is it the other way around? He now stands with two other spirits – Georgia Winslow… and Mum.

Georgia smiles and mouths the words, 'Thank you,' before turning to walk away and disappearing.

Max gives me a thumbs-up and raises an eyebrow in question. I give him a subtle thumbs-up in reply and he winks. We'll have time to talk over events in private soon enough, I know. The message has been delivered; Max is back to stay.

Finally, I turn to my mother. She waves, her clothes rippling like a cascading waterfall. She blows me a kiss and I pretend to catch it. I know that if she's here it means she can't be in Limbus. My mother can't have taken her own life; she never chose death over her family, not by choice. An odd mixture of sadness and joy at seeing her again fills my heart.

'Thank you,' I say.

Dad pauses as he gets into the car. 'I was just doing what any parent would do,' he says.

Watching Mum turn and fade away, I let the miscommunication slide and get into the passenger's seat. I think again of Mr Winslow and what he'd done and what he'd been prepared to do. I give Dad a spontaneous hug.

'Not any parent,' I tell him. 'Let's go home.'

THE END

Copyright © H.R. Aidan, 2016

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wow! That was a big one to end with! I hope it was a satisfying ending for you and that you enjoyed the book overall. I would love it if you would leave me a review just to say what you felt about it. Did I tie up all the loose ends? Was there anything (like Noa's mother's death, or the reason for Dad's drinking) that you felt was confusing or could have been made clearer?

I have had one beta reader tell me that Girl Missing would be suitable for 11 years up. I was aiming for 14 and up, so I would be very grateful to know what your opinion is (and if you don't mind sharing your age that would be helpful too. If you don't want to make that public maybe drop me a PM, I keep all those confidential!)

Lastly, I hope you'll follow my author profile by clicking on the option below (be sure to select 'Follow Author', not 'Follow Story' as Girl Missing will probably not be updated after this). I'm already working on the next Messenger mystery which I hope to have out in September. By following me you'll be the first to know about it!

A massive thank you to everyone who has read this book, and big big hugs to those who have left reviews. I can't tell you what a difference they made to my writing!

Signing out… H.R. Aidan

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