Sixteen Horses Greg Buchanan (first ebook reader .txt) 📖

they could help it. It was gradual, this fragmentation, but inevitable once it had begun.

‘I don’t know if they loved each other,’ Rebecca said. The more they were alone, the less they remained themselves.

One day, after they’d gone out hunting deer, her mother had walked to her office out by the side of the house.

That had been the last time either Rebecca or her father had ever seen Grace Cole.

‘It took three days for us to talk about it,’ Rebecca said, looking down at her drink.

‘How do you know she was gone, if you weren’t seeing each other much?’ Alec put down his cup.

‘She didn’t cook. None of us . . .’ Rebecca paused. ‘Neither of us cooked until she left us.’

‘It’s strange that we were . . . that we were all in there at the same time,’ the girl said.

They talked about their sickness. About the hospital. Cooper did not correct her; if it gave Rebecca some kind of closeness to believe Cooper had been sick too, then fine.

On the floor above, an argument was beginning. Low voices had become raised; words became unintelligible shouts.

‘I’m sorry about your father,’ Cooper said, her eyes rolling up briefly to the ceiling, more noise flooding through. She realized, immediately, that it must have looked like she was being insincere by looking up. Her cheeks flushed. She didn’t know what to say.

Alec went on instead.

‘Did you receive any letters at the farm, the weeks before all this? Any photographs? Anything strange, or—’

‘Letters?’ The girl seemed confused.

Alec took out his folder.

He showed her photocopies of the newspaper sheets.

WE KNOW.

Images of crates in the woods.

Cooper was briefly afraid he’d produce worse, but he stopped it there.

‘Some of the horse owners received these,’ Alec said, his voice low and gentle. ‘We . . .’ He hesitated.

Rebecca stared at the photos of crates.

‘Does this mean anything to you?’ he asked. ‘Rebecca?’

‘No,’ she said, lifting her eyes up with a sigh. ‘I don’t . . .’ It seemed as if a fog had been lifted. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so.’

There was a long pause. The shouting continued above.

‘Is there something you’re not telling us?’ he asked. ‘If there—’

‘I’ve told you everything, I—’

‘My son is missing,’ Alec said. ‘You must have seen the news. You must know.’

She nodded, her eyes wide, her breath sharpening just a little.

‘We need to find him. We need to make sure he’s OK. Whoever did this – we need to find out who they are, we need to find out why they’re doing it.’

When pushed on it, Rebecca grew quieter.

‘That carriage ride you took at the beach . . . who paid for it, Rebecca?’ Alec asked. ‘Who filmed it?’

She said nothing.

‘We know it wasn’t your dad. Was it a friend? A neighbour? Someone from one of your online games? We—’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. No one was filming me.’

The noise intensified on the floor above.

Cooper tried not to look up, keeping her eyes on the girl and the girl alone.

‘Michael – the man who rode the carriage – he said—’

‘It was my dad who paid. It was a birthday present.’ She blinked. ‘I don’t know about anything else.’

‘Do you need any help with washing these?’ Alec asked, holding up his plastic cup, realizing as he did so how ridiculous the question was. Rebecca shook her head, looking at him with an odd, sad affection. She took them to the door. They had been there an hour. They did not have much more to ask.

‘Are you OK here?’ Cooper asked, as she pulled on her green coat.

Rebecca nodded.

They opened the door to go. Outside, the hallway was colder now. There was no noise from other rooms. The sun had started to go down, and the halls were darker. Alec wondered what it was like at night, to wander here.

As Cooper said goodbye, Alec turned.

‘One more thing,’ he said. ‘Your mother. Has she contacted you, recently?’

‘Why?’ Rebecca asked, looking at them both. She didn’t say anything else.

‘We’ve been finding it difficult to get any kind of contact information,’ he lied. He put his coat on. ‘Only a Facebook profile.’

‘We’d like to—’ Cooper began, but Rebecca cut her off.

‘Don’t you have her phone number?’

Alec stared at her.

‘It doesn’t work,’ Cooper said. ‘We—’

‘Why do you want to get hold of her?’

Alec tried to smile. ‘Wouldn’t you rather live with her than in a place like this?’

Rebecca hesitated. ‘I don’t think she—’

‘If you’re able to get us in contact, a phone call or a meeting, we can—’

‘A meeting?’ Rebecca stared at him. ‘How would you meet her?’

‘Like we met, just now. If she’s back in the area, we can—’

‘She’s in Portugal,’ Rebecca said. ‘She lives in Portugal.’ She shifted her weight, irritated, upset.

It hung in the air. A fact. An undeniable statement of truth.

‘You could live with her, still,’ Alec said. ‘You’re her daughter. Don’t you want to see her?’

Rebecca’s eye twitched. ‘I can’t see her. She’s in Portugal. I . . . I live here.’

‘But if we can just—’

‘You’re talking to her anyway, aren’t you?’ Rebecca said. ‘Why don’t you ask her herself? Why don’t you ask her why she doesn’t come here, hm?’ Rebecca’s face grew slightly red, her words trailing away. ‘Why don’t you ask?’

‘She’s talked about me?’

Cooper put a hand on Alec’s arm. ‘Maybe that’s enough for—’

‘She said you wouldn’t leave her alone,’ Rebecca said. ‘She said you were obsessed with her.’

Down the stairs, there was a noise of footsteps.

Alec breathed slightly faster, just slightly. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked. ‘Can you show me your phone?’

Rebecca glared at him, but it was more than that. It was a mock show of anger.

She looked close to tears.

‘What did she say to you?’ Alec shifted slightly closer. ‘What are you even saying?’ His face twisted. ‘This is all—’

‘Thank you for your time,’ Cooper said, flatly, stiffly, and took Alec’s arm again, somewhere between a pat and a tug. ‘We’ll leave you to your evening.’

Rebecca said nothing.

Alec, halfway down the flight, looked back up, vaguely ashamed, vaguely guilty.

Rebecca was watching him.

She turned, suddenly, and shut