Chapter 110

Chapter 110

The back door swung open and Helen burst out, followed closely by Willow, with a flustered Archie Reynolds bringing up the rear. Helen hurried to the rear gate, sliding the bolt across and throwing it open. Willow obligingly trotted out, pursued by her companions, before making her way down a narrow track to the woodlands beyond.

Helen dogged her heels, praying that her plan might work. She was suddenly possessed by the sense that time was critical, that the margin for error was diminishing second by second, that everything now hung on this last desperate throw of the dice. The whippet climbed a steep path, Helen straining to keep up with her unwitting guide, but as she crested the summit, the dog paused, turning to face Archie, whilst seating herself on the cool earth.

‘What now?' Helen demanded.

‘I've no idea,' Archie blustered. ‘Maybe she wants a treat or something?'

Concerned, Helen dug in her pockets, eventually finding a half-eaten packet of shortbread that she'd picked up at some dreary conference. The remaining biscuit was probably stale, but Willow didn't seem to care, swallowing it in one gulp.

‘Good girl, now let's go …'

Helen didn't really know what she was doing. Barring a short period when she was a small child, she'd never owned a dog. But her words seemed to have the desired effect, Willow resuming her walk, darting fast down a nearby path, nose to the ground. Relieved, Helen set off after her, Archie just behind, both proceeding in hushed silence.

For ten minutes, they weaved their way through the woods, cutting down half-hidden paths, before dropping onto a well-trodden bridleway. With each step, Helen felt her hopes rising, praying that the dog wouldn't tire or lose interest. For the first time in this most troubling of cases, someone was helping her, leading her, even if it was only a dog. Helen felt sure that if Reynolds had used the dog walks as a cover to visit his captives, then the dog would stick to the same path, muscle memory and routine ensuring she stayed on track.

Sure enough, they soon left the wood, dropping down a steep path onto the streets of Midanbury. Once again, Willow hesitated, the advent of cars and pedestrians giving her pause for thought.

‘Come on, girl. Don't stop now,' Helen pleaded, marching past the dog down the street, encouraging her to follow.

The whippet duly obliged, soon overtaking Helen, before turning right at the top of the street. Helen kept pace with her, convinced that the end was in sight. She had no idea what that might mean – for her, for Naomi and Mia, for Reynolds – but now she simply longed to bring this disturbing case to a close.

Willow strode on, gracefully avoiding passers-by. She too seemed to be on a mission, sticking to the back streets as she glided along, before suddenly turning down a scruffy side road that eventually led to a derelict building, surrounded by a heavy chain-link fence. The gate was padlocked, but the dog did not break stride, darting to her left and nipping in through a hole in the fence, to access the site beyond. Helen followed suit, dropping down onto her knees and scrabbling through the gap. As she did so, she felt the jagged metal fence edge tear along the top of her scalp, but suppressing a cry of pain, she pressed on. Archie was only seconds behind her, arriving by her side as Helen realized where they were.

‘Bloody hell.'

In front of them was a four-storey building that was as dilapidated as it was depressing. It had been fenced off from the public and was now swathed in notices, warning fly-tippers and squatters to steer clear, but they couldn't conceal the tired sign that still hung above the main entrance. Southampton Children's Home.

Helen stared at the crumbling edifice, once a boisterous, anarchic place, now a lifeless shell, scarcely believing that she hadn't thought of this before. David Reynolds had spent several years here, following his abandonment by his parents, and the place had continued to grow and prosper right up until 2019, when it was mothballed because it had turned out to have dangerous cladding. James Peters, in his position on Hampshire County Council, would have known there were no plans to develop it, that it would receive no official visitors. And did this choice of venue please Reynolds too? A chance for him to inflict terrible suffering on those weaker than himself, in the very place he had endured such an awful time?

Stepping towards the building, Helen was not surprised when the front security light flicked on, the sensor having picked up her movement. Clearly the building still had electricity, despite being vacant for several years. Convinced now that she was in the right place, Helen marched up to the main entrance, only to find the doors padlocked shut. Eyeing them for a minute, frustrated, annoyed, Helen took two steps back, before launching her boot at the door. It rattled and groaned, but stood firm, despite the large dent in it. So Helen tried again, then again, before the door finally burst open, laying the way clear for her.

Turning to a startled Archie, she commanded:

‘Stay here!'

‘Why? Where are y—'

But the rest of the question was lost on Helen, as she sprinted into the gloomy building.