The Doctor Page 5

  ‘A shocking and grisly discovery was made here early this morning by a man walking his dog,’ the report began. ‘A grave containing more than fifty animals including cats and dogs was unearthed when the man’s dog began digging. The owner called the police and they and the RSPCA – Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals – have taken away the carcasses for examination. One line of enquiry is that this could be part of a gruesome satanic ritual as all the animal bodies appear to have been drained of their blood.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Emily cried, shocked and disgusted, her hand flying to her mouth.

  ‘There are some nutters around,’ Ben said.

  The man whose dog had dug up the animals was now interviewed. ‘It’s left me completely shocked,’ he said. ‘I took a different route through the woods this morning, a part that not many use in winter and suddenly Rex began digging frantically in that spot.’ He pointed to the area behind them. ‘He dug up a few mice first and I thought they might have died naturally, but then he dug up part of a rabbit, a cat and a dog and I realized it was a graveyard.’ He said again that the incident had left him badly shaken; he was an animal lover and would hate the thought of his pet ending up like this. The reporter said that other possible reasons for the animals being there were that they had come from a laboratory or a veterinary practice that had dumped the animals rather than pay for the correct disposal, which was illegal.

  Emily felt sick. ‘You don’t think Tibs could be among them?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Ben said. ‘Coleshaw Woods is over half an hour’s drive from here. It’ll be as the reporter said – a lab or vet avoiding the costs of disposing of them properly. Gruesome all the same.’

  The camera went to another local news item and Emily took her iPad from the coffee table. As Ben continued watching the news, she began searching online to see if there were any more details about the animals found in Coleshaw Woods. There was nothing beyond what the news report had said. A shame there wasn’t a telephone number for those worried about their pets to phone, she thought, similar to the helpline number given out for relatives after a major disaster. She closed the tablet and sat with it on her lap, half watching the news. Ben was probably right, but it didn’t stop her worrying. Bad enough that Tibs hadn’t returned and they’d had to accept she was probably dead, but far worse if she’d met her end sacrificed as part of a sadistic cult ritual.

  She went cold. Who knew what Tibs might have suffered in her final hours. The news item had said the animals had been drained of blood. How? Why? Had they been alive? She tried to push these thoughts from her mind, but they returned. Again and again. There were some really evil people out there.

  That night, Emily dreamt she heard Tibs meowing, crying out for them, as she was held down and gruesomely slaughtered. She woke in a cold sweat. Coleshaw Woods was half an hour’s drive away as Ben had said, trying to reassure her, but that wasn’t far, not really.

  The following morning as soon as Emily was up and Ben had left for work, she checked online to see if any more details had been added to the news story. The local Gazette had covered the story, but it was now old news so it had been pushed off the first page. There were no further details.

  She’d arranged to meet a friend, Hannah, for lunch. She lived locally, had a similar-aged child and had also seen the news item. It wasn’t long before they were discussing it and Emily confided she feared Tibs might be among the dead animals.

  ‘I think it’s unlikely,’ Hannah said. ‘I mean, how would Tibs have got all the way over there?’

  ‘Unless someone grabbed her close to home – from our street?’

  ‘I think they’ve come from a lab, probably been bred there or bought for experimenting on. Poor things,’ Hannah sighed. Emily knew she was trying to reassure her, but it didn’t help any more than Ben’s words had.

  ‘Tibs was microchipped,’ Emily said. ‘I’ve been wondering if any of those animals were.’

  ‘It didn’t say on the news, but if they’ve come from a lab they won’t be.’

  ‘But if they haven’t, they could be people’s pets,’ Emily persisted. ‘Dogs run off and you can’t watch cats the whole time.’

  ‘It’s obviously worrying you, so if you think there’s a chance Tibs might be among them, why not phone and ask if any were microchipped?’

  ‘Yes, but who would I phone?’

  ‘The RSPCA, I guess, or our local police station. If it’s not them, then they should know who’s dealing with it.’

  Robbie was asleep in the pushchair by the time Emily arrived home and she quietly parked him in the hall. It was virtually impossible to have a phone conversation when he was awake, so she grabbed the opportunity to make the call now. Closing the living room door so she wouldn’t disturb him, she used her mobile to google the number for the RSPCA.

  The customer services number went through to a recorded message which offered various options including animal emergencies, but none of them were relevant for what she needed to ask, and included the suggestion of looking at their website. She cut the call, googled the number of the local police station and pressed to call. Another answerphone message that began by saying if it was an emergency to hang up and dial 999, if not stay on the line. She waited and was then presented with more options, the last of which was to hold to speak to someone in person.

  Five minutes later, her call was answered and she explained she was phoning about the animal bodies found in Coleshaw Woods. The officer said he was unfamiliar with the case but would find out who she needed to speak to. He came back on the line with another number for her to phone. She thanked him, tried the new number, but an answerphone clicked in inviting her to leave a message. At the same time, Robbie woke; frustrated, she knew she’d have to try again later.

  The rest of the day disappeared in keeping Robbie amused, housework and then preparing dinner. Ben was late home, tired, and had to catch an early train in the morning. They watched the news, although there was nothing more about the animals in Coleshaw Woods and Emily didn’t mention it again.

  The following morning she kissed Ben goodbye and saw him off at the door in her dressing gown, grateful that she didn’t have to leave for work on a cold frosty morning. It was only when Robbie had his lunchtime nap that Emily was able to use the phone again uninterrupted. She called the number she’d been given by the officer the day before and this time it didn’t go through to answerphone but call waiting. She was third in the queue. Her initial enthusiasm for trying to find out if Tibs could be among the animals in Coleshaw Woods was waning and she wondered if she was wasting police time – phoning about a missing cat when they would have many other more important crimes to solve. When it was finally her turn, she began with an apology. ‘I’m sorry, this is probably nothing, but my cat is missing. I saw the news report about the animals found in Coleshaw Woods and was given this number to phone.’

  ‘Yes, your name please,’ the officer said with resignation.

  ‘Emily King.’

  ‘And your address and telephone number? We’re keeping details of all those who’ve phoned in.’

  ‘So others have contacted you with missing pets?’

  ‘Yes, hundreds,’ he sighed. ‘From all over the country.’

  She gave him her contact details.

  ‘And a description of your cat please, although I should say we won’t be able to match owners to their pets.’

  ‘So they are definitely pets?’ Emily asked.

  ‘It seems likely.’

  ‘They haven’t come from a lab?’

  ‘No. Would you like to leave a description of your cat?’ he asked, a little impatiently.

  ‘Yes. Sorry. She was four years old, a brown tabby, spayed. She used to wear a collar with my mobile phone number on, but that was returned to me.’

  ‘So why do you think your cat might be among those in Coleshaw Woods?’

  ‘She’s vanished without trace. Were any of the cats microchipped? Tibs was.’


  ‘We believe some were, yes.’

  Her heart missed a beat. ‘Have you contacted the owners?’

  ‘No. The microchips were cut out from the animals.’

  ‘What?’ she gasped. ‘Cut out? Why?’

  ‘Presumably to stop identification.’

  ‘Oh my God. That’s horrible.’ She thought she was going to be sick. ‘So I’ll never know if Tibs was one of them?’

  ‘It’s unlikely.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘How long had they been dead?’

  ‘Varying lengths of time, but some quite recent. I’ve noted your details and someone will be in touch if we have any news. But, as I said, it’s unlikely we will be able to match the animals to their owners.’

  ‘Has anyone else had their pet’s collar returned to them?’ Emily asked.

  ‘Not as far as I know.’

  ‘So perhaps Tibs isn’t among them.’

  ‘I’m sorry, ma’am, it’s impossible for me to say.’ And with a polite goodbye he ended the call.

  Emily told herself that Tibs wasn’t one of the cats dumped in Coleshaw Woods, for the alternative – that she had died as part of a sadistic ritual and her microchip had been cut out – was too awful to contemplate. No, Tibs was dead, probably run over when her collar had become detached, as Ben had said.

  That night, she put Tibs’ food bowl and bed in a bag in the garage where they stored items they no longer needed but couldn’t bear to get rid of.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Generally, Emily was enjoying her extended maternity leave, she thought, although it was essential to get out of the house with Robbie each day, otherwise he grew fractious and she developed cabin fever. Even now winter was setting in, she wrapped him up warm and they went out. The fresh air, exercise and change of scenery did them both good. Sometimes she met up with friends, other times, if the weather was fine, she took Robbie to the local playground, where he chuckled loudly as she pushed him in the baby swings and enjoyed playing on the apparatus for very young children.

  Christmas was only three weeks away and Emily was also visiting the shops in the high street more to buy gifts. She was looking forward to Christmas but with a little trepidation as this would be the first time she was hosting Christmas dinner for both sets of parents. She wanted it to be perfect: the table laid with the festive linen tablecloth she’d bought, silver pine place mats, matching table centrepiece, turkey with all the trimmings. It was a huge operation and she had numerous lists of what to buy and when. She and Ben were also throwing a drinks party for their friends the Saturday before Christmas – homemade canapés, sweet mince pies and mulled wine. It would be their best Christmas ever!

  Returning from the high street with yet more shopping, the pushchair was loaded with bags. They’d been to the park first and Robbie was exhausted and reasonably happy to sit in his pushchair rather than wanting to walk, which took forever. Emily turned into their road and glanced at the houses they passed. Like theirs, most of the houses in the street were decorated ready for Christmas, many with a Christmas tree in their front room window, festooned with baubles and fairy lights. Some had really gone to town – even over the top – with model reindeer, Santas on sleighs and illuminated snow scenes in their front gardens. Sometimes, less was more, Emily thought as she continued looking at the houses.

  It had come as no surprise that the Burmans’ house wasn’t showing any signs of the festive season. It was possible they didn’t celebrate Christmas, Emily acknowledged, although it seemed more likely they just didn’t want to. She doubted Dr Burman had any Christmas spirit in him – definitely a bah-humbug type of person. Dour and sour. And, of course, Alisha, being ill, couldn’t make the effort by herself. Emily hadn’t seen Alisha since her fifteen-minute visit and had only caught glimpses of the doctor going in and out of his house and shed. She thought Alisha might have been a very different person without him, but then again she was ill and he seemed to take care of her, so she shouldn’t really criticize.

  As she passed their house, she automatically glanced over as she had the others in the street. But the glimpse between the trees and high evergreen shrubs showed the same gloomy front with blacked-out windows. It was a sad-looking house, even more so now many of their neighbours’ houses were gaily decorated. The sadness inside seemed to seep out, bleed through the walls, Emily thought and hurried by. She was pleased to turn into their drive with its warmth of fairly lights draped under the eaves and sparkling through the glass panel of their front door. She switched the lights on when she got up in the morning and they stayed on until she and Ben went to bed. Having gone to all the trouble of putting them up, she wanted to make the most of them. Their house looked welcoming and, with a frisson of excitement, she took her keys from her coat pocket and unlocked the front door. Closer to Christmas – so they would still be fresh on the big day – she was going to buy a Christmas planter with seasonal flowers and set it just to the right of the front door. The finishing touch.

  Her key in the lock, she suddenly stopped, senses alert. She thought she’d heard a child cry from next door – from the Burmans’ house? She must have been mistaken. They didn’t have any children, nor had she ever seen any visitors. Perhaps it was the television or radio, although she’d never heard any noise come from their house before. The windows were always closed, even in summer, and they never used their garden. She pushed open her front door and was about to go in but stopped.

  There it was again. It sounded like an older child, not a baby, a girl, and it had definitely come from the Burmans’ house. It didn’t sound like a radio or television. Could they have visitors? It would be a first, as far as she was aware. But why was the child crying? Was she upset? It was a distressing cry, no words spoken, a shriek, animal-like and intense. It made her blood run cold. What should she do?

  Emily stood still for a moment, torn between ignoring the crying child and continuing indoors, or going next door and asking if everything was all right. Dr Burman wasn’t home, his car wasn’t on the drive where he kept it, and there were no other cars there suggesting visitors. She knew what Ben would have said – mind your own business and go indoors. Her head agreed with him, while her heart told her something wasn’t right. A child in distress in a house where there were no children and the woman was unwell. Since she’d had a child of her own, Emily was more sensitive to the cries of children, especially if they were upset. It was as if something had been switched on when her milk had come in – a primeval need to protect children which was too strong to ignore.

  Closing her front door, she dropped her keys into her coat pocket and wheeled the pushchair to their boundary fence. Robbie, wanting to be home, protested. ‘We won’t be long, little man,’ she said, her voice tight.

  From her side of the fence, she looked down the Burmans’ sideway and up at their house – to where the cries seemed to have come from. It was quiet now, but a small fan-like window on the upper floor was slightly open, which was unusual. Emily didn’t know which room the window was in as all the houses in the street were different. As she looked, the cry came again, followed by Alisha’s voice, high-pitched and distressed, ‘Oh my God! I’m trying to help you!’

  Emily stayed where she was, her unease building. What was going on? Who was Alisha talking to and why was the child upset? Surely, she wasn’t a guest? It had gone quiet again now and it crossed her mind to call up – ‘Is everything all right?’ – but the child screamed and the decision was made.

  Quickly turning the pushchair round, Emily hurried back down her drive then up the Burmans’, trying to convince herself there was a rational explanation for what she’d heard. But what rational explanation there could be escaped her. Better to look a fool than ignore a tragedy, she told herself. If she’d known the Burmans better, she could have made a more informed decision. Now she acted on instinct. She pressed the bell on their entry system as the camera focused on the porch watched her. Robbie struggled to get out. ‘We won�
�t be long,’ she reassured him again.

  She waited. Perhaps no one would answer. Then what would she do? Return home and try to forget it? Impossible. Things heard cannot be unheard, and she knew she’d worry about this until she found out that Alisha and the child were all right. Perhaps she should call the police? And say what? That she’d heard a child crying next door, but the woman who lived there didn’t have a child and was ill? Wouldn’t they suggest she might have a visitor? Perhaps she should go home, but the desperation she’d heard in Alisha’s voice told her to stay.

  The door suddenly opened and Alisha stood before her, distraught. ‘Thank goodness. I need your help. Come in.’

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Emily asked.

  ‘Yes. Come quickly. You must help me, but never tell anyone what you see.’

  Emily stopped, fear gripping her. ‘Why not? What’s going on?’

  ‘Come quickly. You’ll see. This way.’

  Emily pushed the stroller into the hall as Alisha began upstairs. She glanced at Robbie, wondering if it was safe to leave him alone in the hall, but the child above cried out again, even more distressed.

  ‘Please come now,’ Alisha nearly begged.

  Glancing at Robbie, Emily ran up the stairs behind Alisha and then followed her into a room at the side of the house. It was a bathroom, adapted for disabled use. Alisha was going to a bundle on the floor, something wrapped in a towel and wedged between the side of the bath and the hand basin. The cry came again from the bundle, like a trapped animal, and Emily realized it was a child. But not like any child she’d seen. She remained where she stood as Alisha knelt beside her. No child should ever look like that.