‘But you don’t know where!’
‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ Otis cries, his distress rising until it sounds like it’s tearing his throat. ‘Do you think it’s not killing me that for the last few days when I should have put everything into finding her, I listened to my stung pride and did nothing? It’s all I can think about! But I have to try, Gabby. I have to try.’
Gabby follows Otis, her face the picture of confusion, but I understand him. Otis knows that when he leaves those doors, he won’t find Alexa. That’s not what matters, though. Hunting as if he will find answers will burn off the energy flowing through him – and ease his guilt.
Ignoring another plea from Gabby to stay inside, Otis stomps towards the rain-splattered doors, pausing when he reaches them.
‘Are you coming, Janine?’ he asks.
Gabby’s jaw drops, but I don’t need to think twice. I grab my coat and follow Otis out into the garden, joining the hunt for Alexa Clarke.
CHAPTER 17
Wind howls through the trees as we set off across the manicured grounds surrounding the Clarkes’ home, the torches on our phones lighting the way. The dense curtain of fog that has threatened to fall for the last few hours has descended fully now, blanketing the area in an eeriness that makes me long for the comfort of the warm fire at home.
Home, the place I should be now that darkness has fallen. But I can’t leave now. Who knows what we might find out here. Who knows if the next few minutes will lead us to Alexa Clarke.
Otis walks ahead, his purposeful pace one I have to jog to keep up with.
‘What’s the plan here?’ I call after him.
‘I don’t know,’ he admits, wiping raindrops from his face. ‘I thought if we retraced Lex’s steps, something might come to us.’ He stops in the centre of the garden. ‘The problem is, we don’t know what her steps were. We don’t know where she went. CCTV shows her going into the garden, then we lose her.’
Otis’s shoulders drop. Barely ten steps from the door and he’s already lost confidence in his search. Wind batters his body, nature’s attack doing little to elevate his spirits.
I step forward, fighting to be heard over the feral cry of the weather. ‘Are you sure there’s no way Alexa could have gone to the front of the house without being seen by CCTV?’
‘That’s right. She’d have gone out here and then… well, then I don’t know.’
I look around the darkened garden. Encased by towering trees, it’s a beautiful spot filled with raised flowerbeds and seating options for outdoor dining. On a summer’s day, I imagine there aren’t many nicer places to recline with a book. The problem is, it’s not summer. It’s November, and imagining anyone lounging outside at this time of year is impossible.
‘Is there a way to get out of the garden without using the driveway? Maybe through the woods?’ I ask, pointing to the trees ahead.
‘I mean, you can climb the fence and cut through the trees to the fields, but why would Lex do that when she could use the public footpath?’
‘Maybe she fancied an adventure?’
Those words are enough to send Otis over the fence and into the thick of the wilderness. I follow close behind, clambering over the waist-high horizontal slats and landing clumsily on the other side.
The strip of woodland we trek through is beautiful in a mysterious, other-worldly way, but it’s surprisingly narrow. When we emerge through it on the other side, we’re confronted by a field of long grass.Fields that go on forever– that’s what Alexa calls them, according to Otis. The time of day and the weather make it hard for me to confirm the accuracy of that. The fog is even thicker here than it was in the garden, the world before me barely visible through the mist.
‘I feel like we’re trespassing,’ I confess, glancing around.
‘Don’t worry, this is public land,’ Otis says. ‘Anyone can walk here.’
Although the words were said to put me at ease, I can see that they spark a worry in Otis that anyone could have been here with his wife. Someone she didn’t know.
Someone who might have hurt her.
‘Lex!’ Otis roars, the boom of his voice lost in the vast nothingness. He powers forward, swatting the long, wet grass to form a path. ‘Lex, where are you?’
The fact that only the weather responds to his call is crushing.
Together, we push on through the field, delving deeper into the grey-veiled world while scouring the grass for clues. With the help of my phone’s torch, I find an empty crisp packet, a child’s lost glove and a squashed plastic bottle. Signs of life, but not signs of Alexa Clarke.
The rain falls heavier, pelting down around us. Each droplet makes a dull pattering sound as it splats against Otis’s raincoat.
‘Lex!’ he shouts, moving faster. The act of searching for his wife rather than waiting for her to return has awoken something animalistic in him. ‘Alexa!’