I Will Find You

  I WILL FIND YOU

  A CRIME/THRILLER

  BY CATHERINE LAMBERT

  THE CHARACTERS IN THIS NOVEL ARE FROM THE MIND OF THE AUTHOR. ANY SIMILARITIES TO PERSONS LIVING OR DEAD ARE PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

  I WILL FIND YOU.

  A NOVEL BY CATHERINE LAMBERT.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Lydia Nevin was in a garden, a familiar garden she had visited many times before. Her bare feet slipped through the dew-soaked grass as a gentle breeze caressed her skin. She smiled when she saw him perched on a swing that dangled freely from the tree branches, as he pushed with all his might to climb higher and higher. The sun’s rays filtered through his golden blond hair as it bobbed up and down with each movement. As she watched from a distance, he soared through the air his laughter cutting through the silence. Then the sky clouded over and blocked out the sun. The garden was in darkness and the little boy was crying.

  “I can’t see you Mummy. Where are you?” his despair was heart wrenching.

  “I’m here Adam, reach out to me,” she stumbled in the darkness desperately trying to find him.

  “Come and get me mummy I’m frightened,” he continued to call out, but he never found her and his frantic cries trailed off as the garden disappeared into a haze of fog. The trees became a tangled mass of thorns that encircled her and tore at her flesh as she desperately fought to free herself, and then it was gone.

  Lydia opened her eyes’ to face reality as the tears rolled down her cheeks and stung her face as she remembered that horrendous day, and the nightmare that tortured her every time she closed her eyes. It didn’t start as a nightmare it was a pleasant dream. She could see Adam and sense his vitality, but she couldn’t reach out and touch him or feel his soft skin, the darkness always took him away. It had been the same every night since he had died. The sober truth of his death struck at her heart like a cold blade stabbing into her flesh.

  Although eight long months had passed since Adam’s death, she could still recall precise details of that day. Every item of clothing he had worn she could describe, down to his blue and white striped socks and scuffed black shoes he had insisted on wearing, as he played with a football in the garden at the back of the cafe. On the day of Adam’s death, her sister had arrived at the café at 7.30 to fit new curtains and tablecloths. They had chosen the fabric and design together, but Marney couldn’t wait to replace the old ones and opened the café early to surprise her sister. A day that had started so well was just a few hours away from becoming the worst day of Lydia’s life.

  Just after ten thirty when the early morning breakfasts were finished, Lydia filled the dishwasher and glanced out of the window to watch her son practising his goal-shooting skills. She remembered smiling to herself as he blasted the ball through his makeshift goal posts; that was the last time she saw him alive. He was just six years old. His life had ended in such a violent way, and all she could do was watch.

  Lydia had then returned to the cafe to take another order. Her sister was clearing a table and scraping the remnants of a half-eaten breakfast away, before she disappeared into the kitchen. It was now five to eleven. Mrs. Cameron walked into the cafe and ordered her usual cup of tea as she did every Tuesday after collecting her pension from the Post Office. She usually had some gossip that she was bursting to share with anyone who would listen, but otherwise she was quite content to indulge in grumbling and complaining about anything and everything. Lydia would nod and agree with her, but her mind was elsewhere trying to keep her own hectic life in order. It was almost eleven o’clock and she needed to prepare an order for the catering company before eleven thirty. Making an excuse to leave Mrs. Cameron and her incessant chattering, Lydia made a mental note to order more tomatoes and mushrooms from the caterers. As she returned to the counter to begin the order the sound of car, screeching to a halt outside the café caused her to stop and turn around. The café fell silent as Lydia and her customers watched the horrendous scene unfold before them. A car ploughed straight into the tiny body of a little boy who was crossing the road. Lydia knew it was her son, her beautiful boy with golden blond hair. His body hurled through the air like a rag doll before it came to rest on the pavement in an unrecognisable heap. A pair of little black shoes, torn from his feet by the impact, lay by his side; little black shoes with blood and scuff marks on the front. Lydia watched in shock and revulsion as the car drove away at high speed without stopping to help her precious son.

  Time stopped as Lydia stared in horror, transfixed to the spot. She was unaware of her sister’s presence by her side as she whimpered inaudible words to herself. The time was now 11 o’clock, and the café was silent. Lydia’s entire body began to shake violently as she stood motionless in shock and disbelief, until she heard a blood-curdling scream. It was coming from her mouth as she had stumbled out into the street blinded by her own tears. Adams’ lifeless body lay sprawled on the pavement surrounded by a crowd of people. Lydia stared at the shape unable to comprehend that it was her son’s body unable to grasp the brutal reality before her. She didn’t want to look down at her son’s battered body, but she couldn’t take her eyes away. She stared as a trickle of blood ran down the road in gruesome mockery, as Adam’s young life washed away. All the details of his violent death would remain with her forever; as vivid as they were on the day that he died.

  What happened after that was just a blur, a cacophony of sirens, police cars and vague images of faces all merging into one. An immense feeling of claustrophobia engulfed her and she had struggled to control the urge to run into the road. Marney had tried to comfort her, but her words were lost amongst the frenzied scene before them.

  Despite the desperate efforts of the paramedics, Adam was pronounced dead at the scene. She would never forget the look on their faces as they covered his tiny body, searching for the right words to say to her. But there are no words of comfort for the loss of an only child, no panacea to take away the pain. Nothing could ever be the same again. Every day just a cruel reminder of what she had lost, as she watched other children go to school and celebrate their birthdays. Watching them grow, marry and have children of their own knowing this would never happen to her.

  The stress of the accident had also taken its toll on her marriage. Her husband Jake never said it, but she could sense he blamed her for Adam’s death. The cold stares and hatred that burned in his eyes when he looked at her had been all the proof she needed.

  “Why was he crossing the road on his own?” He repeatedly asked this question until Lydia screamed and shouted at him. She hadn’t known the answer, and she probably never would. The last time she saw him, he was safe and happy playing in the garden behind the cafe.

  He had not gone to school that day, as he had been feeling sick. If only she had been firmer with him, he would be alive today; but no matter how she tortured and reproached herself the guilt remained with her. Adam’s death had changed her life forever, her heart was broken and her marriage was in tatters. Would Jake have stayed if Adam had been alive today, probably not? In her heart of hearts, she had known the marriage was over. Adam had been the only spark in her relationship and now that flame had gone out.

  Her life without Adam was unbearable, and without her sister Marney, who dragged her through the deep depression, Lydia could easily have taken her own life. Existing on anti-depressants and coffee, the long days and nights merged into one as she battled through the crushing loneliness. Her mother had tried to help, but she too was struggling to come to terms with the loss of her only grandchild. When they did meet or speak on the phone, it always culminated in streams of tears and accusations hurled at Lydia.

  It was Marney who had eventually reached her, and with gentle persuasion, she had returned to the
cafe. She had been a great comfort and helped her carry on with life even when there were days Lydia just wanted to lock herself away from the world and hide forever. There were still many days like that when it seemed there was nothing to live for, but Marney was always there to pull her out of the darkness. A darkness haunted by images of the wicked person who had taken her precious son away. This person, who had so cold-heartedly killed her son and driven off, had not been apprehended. The police could not trace the car or even obtain a reliable description of it. The street outside the cafe that morning had been unusually quiet, but two witnesses were present. One described the vehicle as a dark saloon, the other re-called it as a small hatchback. How could they be so uncertain, such wide discrepancies?

  Lydia dreamed of confronting this man, if it was a man, the thought of a woman committing such a crime was unthinkable. What would she say to this person, this monster? She had rehearsed the words in her head so many times, but if it came to the situation where she stood face to face with her son’s killer, would she waste her breath on words, or would the impulse to grab out at this person and take his life away be too over-whelming?

  After Adam died, Lydia was uncertain if she could continue to run the cafe. Every day held a poignant reminder of what she had allowed to happen right in front of her eyes. Her dark thoughts were too much to endure and had forced her to consider selling the café, but after relentless persuasion, Marney convinced her otherwise. With her unfaltering help, she had battled through the terrible depression that was controlling her, and threatening to destroy everything she had worked so hard to achieve. It had taken a long time, but Lydia realised she needed to focus on something other than Adam’s death. She was walking a path of self-destruction with no end in sight. It continued day and night, and she was desperate to break the cycle and return to normality, whatever that was. All Lydia knew for certain was that her beautiful blond haired boy was gone forever, and nothing would bring him back. She had reached the crossroads of her grieving and it was time to make a decision. Her choices were to succumb to her grief, or return to the café and attempt to live her life again. Lydia knew in her heart that the latter alternative was the only way forward. Her choice turned out to be a painful, but therapeutic experience. It would have been so easy to give in, but with Marney’s support and encouragement Lydia eventually settled back into the daily routine. Marney had shown compassion and sensitivity that Lydia had not known she possessed, and without her, she would have plunged into a desolate existence. Adam’s death had created a close bond between the sisters, and Lydia was confident in the knowledge that she could rely on her sister for the emotional support she would need.

  With just four years difference in their ages, Lydia and Marney shared no striking resemblances with each other. Lydia’s short mousy hair and brown eyes were in stark contrast to Marney’s dark flowing locks and pouting lips. Lydia’s pale thin face and sharp nose conveyed a harsh appearance that was not befitting to her gentle manner. She had always been a quiet girl preferring to spend time alone, a practice that followed her into adulthood. Her petite figure and small breasts had remained unchanged despite her pregnancy, and not matter what she ate her weight didn’t alter.

  Marney however was not that fortunate and was constantly checking her weight. Any gain no matter how small, was met with despair followed by days of virtual starvation, which rarely achieved anything except cravings for chocolate. She was a bubbly girl who actively sought excitement and the company of others, particularly those of the opposite sex. Her high cheekbones and full lips complemented her near-flawless skin, which she subjected to a strict beauty routine. Marney’s fuller figure attracted a lot of male attention, and she was particularly proud of her ample breasts-Lydia was convinced that her sister had been born with her share- and loved to show them off in low-cut tops. She also had a habit of twirling a strand of loose hair around her finger when she was in the company of a man she found attractive.

  Perhaps there was an element of envy. Lydia felt she had lived her childhood in the shadows while her sister stood on a glittering stage, the centre of attention. Marney had always been popular with men, it wasn’t just her looks; she had style and charisma which they couldn’t resist. Lydia had spent all her life being cautious and sensible, whilst Marney had done the total opposite. As a teenager, there had been a constant stream of admirers waiting to ask her out. Their mother seemed to have no control over her behaviour despite the constant lectures on morality. Marney retaliated with threats to marry the first man who asked her regardless of her mother’s disapproval. The threat never materialised and Marney remained single, drifting from one emotionally draining relationship to another. After each failed liaison, Lydia provided a shoulder to cry on a bottle of wine to ease the pain and a huge box of tissues to soak up the endless tears. Her ‘boyfriend grieving’ was a relatively brief phase, its demise indicated by an afternoon of retail therapy. Thankfully, at the moment though she was going through another of her man-hating periods after her present 'boyfriend' had finished the affair, when his wife had discovered what was going on.

  Lydia’s experience with men had been very limited- her husband Jake was the only man she had slept with- and she willingly agreed to marry him fearing no one else would ask. Her first boyfriend- Andy Knowles- attended the same school as Lydia, and they dated for eighteen months. She was devastated when he moved to a different part of the country. He promised to write to her but after a few months, the letters stopped arriving. She cried for weeks after, and never saw him again.

  As an adult, the majority of her relationships were brief, lasting no more than a few weeks. When she met Jake, she knew it was different, and after just six months, he proposed. Now she wished she had not been so hasty, but her lack of confidence never allowed her to take chances. She constantly compared herself to her sister and in doing so, failed to see her own good qualities. Lydia knew she could be sensitive and very diplomatic when she had to be, but these attributes were hardly husband magnets. Her dreams had been to marry have children and own her own business. Marney yearned for fun, sex and money; ironically, they both craved the same things but took different paths to obtain them.

  The sound of the phone ringing downstairs interrupted Lydia’s thoughts and she listened as the answer phone clicked on. The caller left a brief message but Lydia didn’t recognise the voice. Bringing her mind and thoughts back to the present time, she pulled back the duvet and swung her legs out of bed. Feeling chilly in her thin pyjamas, she wrapped a thick dressing gown around her shoulders and headed towards the bathroom. After a quick wash, she dragged a comb through her hair and caught a glimpse of her pale reflection in the mirror. Studying the image that stared back at her Lydia was shocked at what she saw. Deep lines and dark circles were highly visible around her eyes and she looked ten years older that her 34 years. Moving closer to the mirror, she drew her fingers over her face and frowned, perhaps it was time to listen to Marney, who constantly reminded her of the importance of moisturising.

  As today was Sunday, there was no frantic rush to get to the café. Lydia made her way along the landing towards Adam’s bedroom. A blue plaque bearing his name hung on the white door. She whispered his name as she pushed the door open and stepped inside. Lydia had visited her son’s room every day since his death, but today was different, it would have been his seventh birthday, and Lydia knew it was going to be a very bad day for her. Her morning visit to her son’s room had become a ritual where she drew the blue and white curtains, opened the window and imagined he was there beside her. The wardrobe was still full of his little clothes and shoes; she couldn’t bear to part with them, not yet. A photograph of his smiling face, taken a week before he died, stood on the dressing table. She picked up the framed image of her son and wished him a happy birthday; the words choked her as she struggled to catch her breath. The camera had captured Adam’s alluring smile as he sat next to his father, fishing in the local park lake. Lydia smiled as she remembered ho
w Jake had to wade into the water to retrieve Adam’s fishing rod after an overenthusiastic cast had launched the whole thing into the lake. The smile soon vanished as she knelt down by her son’s bed, cradled his pillow in her arms and inhaled deeply. His unique sweet smell was still there, but it was fading. The pleasant combination of grass and apples filled her nostrils with wonderful memories, but her heart with pain. The tears fell down her cheeks and soaked into the bed linen as the image of her sleeping son flashed before her. His little body tucked neatly beneath the blue and white duvet deep in sleep. Adam had chosen the curtains and duvet himself, and Lydia had painted the walls to match the colour scheme. His wooden train set-a Christmas present from his grandparents- lay idle on the carpet. It had been his favourite toy and she didn’t have the heart to move it or put it out of sight.

  Every day, before she entered Adam’s room, Lydia fought her emotions willing herself not to cry, but she never succeeded. The day she could enter his room without crying would be the day when she could go forward; but that day seemed a long way off, with many more tears and regrets to come. Tearing herself away, she left the room and closed the door securely. No one else was allowed to enter Adam's room it was her sanctuary. Alone in the silence she could be truly close to her son, a feeling she wasn’t prepared to share with anyone else, especially today.

  The phone was ringing again, and this time Lydia answered it. The caller was her mother inviting her to lunch, an offer she declined.

  “You shouldn’t be on your own today,” she attempted to change her mind.

  “I’m alright mum I need to be on my own.”

  Her mother didn’t push the issue and after a few minutes of uncomfortable conversation, Lydia made an excuse to end the call.