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  MISSING — DEAD OR ALIVE

  PETER MARTIN

  Kindle Direct Publishing

  Copyright © 2015 Peter Martin.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

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  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

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  Dedicated to my wife for her constant support and honesty throughout the writing of this book.

  “I never knew that missin’ somebody could hurt, I says. But it does. Deep inside. Like it's in my bones. We ain't never bin apart till now. Never. I dunno how to be without him. It's like... I ain't nuthin’.”

  ― MOIRA YOUNG, Blood Red Road

  Chapter 1

  Maria Shepherd sat tapping her fingers on the breakfast table, quietly smouldering. Her son Tim still hadn’t got up, despite shouting him ten minutes ago. It was now seven-thirty am. Tim usually got up without any prompting as he enjoyed school. Now if he didn’t hurry up, he’d be late.

  As the time passed she wondered if he’d gone back to sleep again. No sounds came from his room. Five more minutes, that’s all she’d give him, she thought, gulping down her tea, and went over to the sink to wash the dirty crockery. Job done, she dried her small hands, and looking at her reflection in the kitchen window, pondered over what the future held for Tim and whether he’d fulfil his undoubted potential.

  But her musings came to an abrupt end by the clatter of the letter box. As she went into the hall to pick up the mail she noticed it was seven forty-five. Time to see what Tim was up or she’d be late as well, and being Friday she needed to leave on time. Leaving the letters on the hall table, she climbed the stairs to the landing.

  Tim’s bedroom door was wide open, just as he’d left it last night. The beige patterned curtains were drawn, and he lay flat out on his stomach, on top of the bed wearing only boxer shorts. Perhaps he was hot during the night and hadn’t wanted to get under the covers.

  Tall and skinny rather like his dad, his long legs stretched out to the end of his bed. His curly long black hair and the hint of a moustache on his upper lip, made him look unkempt. Then to Maria’s amusement, he snored quietly when he breathed out.

  With a sigh she sat down on the bed beside him, so proud of her only child, who she loved so much. Such a clever boy, a model student, and near the top of the class for almost every subject. Bob her husband remarked only a few days ago, there was no limit to what Tim could achieve. What a moment that would be to see their son graduate, after all he’d be first in the family to gain a degree. But that was for the future. Today all she wanted was for him to get out of bed.

  ‘Hey Tim, wake up.’ She gently shook his arm.

  He groaned, then turned over onto his side.

  She tried again, only louder this time. ‘Tim! Time you got up son, or you’ll be late for school.’

  ‘God, no,’ he moaned, yawning and rubbing his eyes. ‘Don’t think I’m going in today.’

  ‘Why ever not? Are you ill or something?’ She raised her eyebrows in surprise. Tim was never ill and hated missing school. In the last three years he hadn’t missed a single day.

  As she peered at him feeling a little sick, she heard him groan, eyes still closed. ‘All right, all right mum, coming. I’m just so tired... I couldn’t sleep. Phew... and it was that hot.’

  ‘Never mind son, it’s much cooler today - you’ll sleep like a log tonight.’

  He moved his body to a sitting position, holding a hand in front of his mouth to suppress a yawn. Maria got up from the bed to walk towards the door, but stayed put to make certain he really did get up.

  Somewhat half-heartedly, he dragged himself up and as he passed her in the doorway she said, ‘I’ll cook your breakfast, while you’re in the bathroom, shall I Tim? You might have time to eat it if I hurry.’

  ‘Oh don’t bother mum, just a glass of orange juice will do – I’m not hungry.’

  ‘Tim, you have to eat.’

  He rolled his eyes at her before closing the bathroom door behind him.

  Rushing downstairs, she poured him an orange juice, then put two slices of bread under the grill.

  She was spreading the butter on the toast when he waltzed in, flopping down at the breakfast table. He took a sip from his fruit juice, but pulled a face when she put the toast in front of him. Reluctantly he took a few bites, but left the rest.

  ‘I’ll give you a lift, save you rushing, if you like.’

  ‘Nah, I’ll be all right, honestly, mum. I’ll make the eight-fifteen bus, no problem.’

  ‘Well if you’re sure.’

  He nodded. ‘Oh by the way, I forgot to tell you, I’m stopping behind tonight for an hour’s maths revision.’

  ‘Oh - you should have said, we might have been able to help.’

  ‘No, well, it’s nothing major, just a bit of algebra I don’t understand. The whole class are staying behind – we’re all having problems with the same thing.’

  ‘It’s good of the teacher to give up his time. I’ll try and hold back the dinner - but you know what your father’s like about waiting for his tea.’

  ‘Yeah, whatever,’ Tim said, shrugging this shoulders.

  Maria watched him get up and leave the room. When he came back, his head was down, his face devoid of any colour, and not looking at all well.

  ‘You sure you’re all right love?’

  ‘I’m not brilliant, but I’ll survive.’

  ‘Want me to phone the school to tell them you’re not coming in today?’

  ‘No, mum, I’ll have to make the effort.’

  ‘What about that lift? I don’t mind – honestly.’

  He shook his head. ‘Nah. I’m going now, mum.’ He leaned over, gave her a peck on the cheek, which made her stomach flutter, as recently he hadn’t liked to show any affection. Probably too old for all that rubbish now. Her heart thumped a little harder, unable to work out why he’d suddenly kissed her.

  ‘See you tonight then.’

  ‘Bye mum.’ Tim waved to her as he went out of the kitchen into the hall, and within a few seconds the front door slammed – he was gone.

  As she moved across to the window, she saw the rain was coming down in torrents. She wanted to run after him, ask him to reconsider her offer of a lift, but when she opened the front door he’d vanished. She swore under her breath, he wasn’t wearing a coat and the idea of taking an umbrella was out of the question. He’d get soaked, might even catch cold. Just what he didn’t need with exams looming after the holiday. Maybe she should go after him in the car, but thinking he’d be on the bus by that time anyway, she headed upstairs to get ready for work.

  Taking her clean blue and white un
iform from the wardrobe door she quickly got dressed, put on her coat with the collar up and rushed out to the car amid the torrential rain.

  The journey to Somertree supermarket, where she worked as a part time check out operator, took ten minutes. The location of the store couldn’t have been better, it was one of the things that drew her to the job in the first place, being situated on the corner of Dexford High Street and Station Road.

  It was very much the usual busy Friday, except for everyone complaining about the weather. But it being her last working day of the week, Maria looked forward to the weekend. So when she got to leave work fifteen minutes early, her spirits lifted, and arriving home a little after three o’clock, allowed her to do some cleaning and prepare dinner. Shame Tim wouldn’t be home until late tonight, she did so enjoy talking to him about his day, while she had him to herself. But at least it would enable her to get on top of the housework and perhaps give her the chance to potter away in the greenhouse on Saturday afternoon.

  Bob Shepherd was on the phone to a client about a disputed claim over a car accident. He sat behind a desk in his office at the Colonial and Mutual Insurance Company where he worked as a Claims Officer. His tall lanky figure enabled him to see over to the window at the atrocious weather. Putting down the phone, he pondered whether it would be wise to take Tim to watch Dexford Town, the local football team tonight, as the ground wasn’t under cover. Maria would have a fit about them getting drenched; but he’d been looking forward to the match all week, as he loved spending time with his son. Several times they’d gone fishing together and also swimming on a Sunday morning. One day when the lad was older, he planned to take him down to the pub too, for his first drink. Bob loved his son - he reminded him of himself when he was that age.

  Work finished a little after five, and donning his navy raincoat over a matching suit, he hurried out of the office and down the stairs to the front door. The rain continued unabated, so he put his umbrella up and set off to the car.

  The rush hour was as busy as the rain, the window wipers were going at full speed, but surprisingly before long the traffic eased and so did the rain. His powerful Audi family car quickened once he got to the outskirts of Dexford itself, and he arrived home only ten minutes later than normal.

  He turned into Lotus Drive, and parked the car on the tarmac in front of their three bedroomed detached house, which they’d moved into five years ago. This impressive house was doubled fronted, with a detached side garage, and a huge rear garden the size of a tennis court. The inside consisted of a large living and dining room, a spacious kitchen leading out to a newly erected conservatory and upstairs the two main bedrooms had en-suite shower rooms. The house bathroom contained a Jacuzzi, a feature the previous owners had installed.

  As he got out of the car, he noticed the rain had stopped at last, and the sun was trying to peek through the clouds. They might make the football match after all, he thought.

  Opening the front door, he stepped inside glad to be home. And after hanging up his coat he pushed the living room door open, surprised to see Maria sitting down reading a book. So what was going on with dinner?

  She glanced up at him from her book, and smiled, allowing him a quick peck on the lips.

  ‘Thank God it’s Friday,’ he sighed. ‘It’s been one hell of a day.’

  ‘For me too. And the queues at my checkout – well I don’t know how I served them all and still got out on time.’

  ‘Shows how good you are at your job darling.’

  ‘Flattery will get you nowhere.’

  ‘Well, I can but try.’

  ‘Try a little harder next time eh,’ she said jokingly.

  He smiled, then went upstairs to change, intent on seeking out Tim, to see if the lad was still up for the football match.

  After Bob had gone, Maria closed her book, got up and walked to the kitchen to find out how dinner was progressing. She’d already turned the oven down once for Tim’s sake. The meat pie had started to brown, she saw opening the oven door. She looked at her watch, and wondered why Tim still hadn’t come back from school. He’d mentioned extra maths revision, but he should have been home by now. Already over an hour and a half had passed since he usually returned. Why didn’t he hurry up, for God’s sake? Despite being fourteen, she still worried over him and always feared the worst.

  Back in the living room she continued to read, but her concentration began to waver. There was something else nagging her at the back of her mind. When she’d come home earlier, she’d rummaged in her purse for money to pay the milkman, and had found only loose change. There should have been a hundred pounds: money she’d drawn out yesterday. At first she’d thought she’d put the money down somewhere by mistake, but after searching for it, had found nothing. How strange. Where had it gone? But surely this had nothing to do with Tim? She should mention it to Bob. But he’d be so angry and accuse her of being careless!

  Added to this the balance on her credit card statement seemed way over what she’d anticipated – there were three cash withdrawals totalling seven hundred and fifty pounds, money she couldn’t account for. Thankfully the credit card was safely in her purse. Perhaps Bob had used it and forgotten to tell her. But why would he do that?

  She was brought back to reality when Bob came into the living room, freshly washed and changed, smelling of eau-de-cologne. An uncomfortable smile disguised her fears, and she got up to check on the dinner.

  On returning from the kitchen, Bob looking up from his armchair said, ‘Seen anything of Tim – only he’s not in his room. We’re supposed to be going to a football match afterwards?’

  ‘No, I haven’t. He told me he was staying behind for maths revision, but he should be home by now. I can’t imagine where he’s got to. If he doesn’t hurry up, we might as well start without him.’

  ‘Well, what’s the point in waiting around. If he can’t be bothered to get back on time – that’s tough. And if he’s forgotten about the football match, I’ll strangle the little bugger.’

  ‘But where is he, Bob? It’s not like him to be this late. I’m getting worried.’

  ‘Probably missed a bus or gone out somewhere with his mates. Come on Maria, he’s fourteen years old – you know how notoriously unreliable lads of that age are.’

  Maria shrugged her shoulders, but wasn’t so sure.

  ‘Shall I try his mobile?’

  ‘Might as well. I’m looking forward to hearing what pathetic excuse he’ll come up with.’

  She took out her phone and dialled his number. It rang and rang and then went to voice mail. She left a message. ‘He’s not answering his phone, or he’s switched it off.’

  ‘Typical,’ Bob sighed.

  After another five minutes, she dished up, leaving Tim’s in the oven turned down low. As they ate, Maria continued to feel apprehensive about Tim and the missing money. But she couldn’t think about that for the time being until he was safely home.

  She only ate half her dinner while Bob finished his off in no time. After taking his empty plate out to the kitchen he boiled a kettle for a cup of tea and brought the cups in, placing them on the table.

  ‘Well, Tim is a long time,’ he said suddenly.

  ‘I do hope he hasn’t got himself in any trouble. He said he’d be late, but this is ridiculous. Bob, it’s after six thirty now.’

  ‘Yes – but like I said, maybe he’s gone out with his mates and lost track of time. Let’s not jump to conclusions. Mind you, I’ll tell you one thing, he’ll get a rollicking when he does get back. For being so bloody irresponsible. His dinner’s ruined, and now we won’t get to the match either. What’s got into the lad?’

  Maria bit her bottom lip in despair, and tried his mobile again. No answer. She sent a text message.

  ‘Stop fretting Maria,’ he told her, obviously noticing how jittery she’d become. ‘He’s big enough and old enough to look after himself. Let’s try to keep calm. He’ll be back when he’s good and ready.’

&nb
sp; ‘He might have had an accident. Or been mugged, or anything.’

  ‘Come on love, that’s not likely. Anyway it’s too late for that match now, so I might as well mow the lawn, seeing as the sun’s come out. All right?’

  ‘Ok whatever.’ She closed her eyes for a second. All Bob seemed to care about was missing some silly football match. How absurd.

  She watched him from the window, saw him bring out the mower and take his frustrations out on the lawn. Then she started on the washing up, almost dropping a plate, worried over what might or might not have happened. It was so out of character and he’d never been one to bring them any trouble.

  The washing up done, while Bob was busy outside, she sat there, intermittently glancing up at the clock. With six-thirty ticking on towards seven o’clock, a terrible dread came into the pit of her stomach. Something was very wrong.

  This was the last thing Bob wanted to do, it always took such a long time. But then he never felt like cutting the grass, his passion lay with growing flowers and shrubs.

  Anger crept into his head. How could Tim let him down? His son’s eyes had lit up at the suggestion of going to the match; this was the first opportunity they’d had to spend some time together in weeks. So why he should be late, was difficult to understand. He’d always loved playing and watching football, had even played for the school team for a while, until he decided it interfered with his school work.

  When Bob finished, he wasn’t happy, he shouldn’t have mowed the lawn when it was that wet and muddy, and now part of the grass had been pulled out and looked a mess. But he’d needed to occupy himself with something.

  As he put the mower away in the shed, he was mindful of his son’s absence and butterflies filled his stomach – eight o’clock, and still nothing. Maria couldn’t have heard anything, or she’d have run out to tell him.