Dark Place to Hide by A J Waines Page A

‘Harper is incredibly balanced and rational, but he has a slightly…troubled edge…’ she says, trailing her fingers across the bodice of the dress.
    ‘Are you frightened of him?’
    ‘No! It’s not like that. He adores me.’ Diane tries to find the right words. She knows Tara means well, but she’s not ready to tell her the full story. ‘I’ve discovered…there’s a darker side to him – that’s all.’
    Tara doesn’t seem to like the sound of it. ‘Darker – how?’
    Diane stands up. ‘Do you like the dress or not?’
    ‘It’s gorgeous,’ Tara says, dismissively, glancing again at the book.
    Diane hugs the dress. ‘He never hurts me.’
    Tara’s frown folds into mock disapproval, but she stays quiet.
    ‘Don’t say anything will you?’ Diane pleads.
    Tara looks coy, twisting her pout to one side. ‘Your secret is safe with me.’

Chapter 11
Harper
    2 August – Third day missing
    In the morning, I wake and in those first fuddled moments forget you’re not here. I must have been dreaming about you – a tense, erotic dream. I reach out in bed to the place your body should be. It’s cold and there is no hollow. Even the bed is forgetting you.
    I pick up my phone from the bedside cabinet and ring your number. I’ve been ringing at regular intervals every day, but no longer with any hope – it’s just to hear your recorded message. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I ring your sister; I have a specific question for her.
    ‘Have you ever heard her use those words?’ I ask after my opening attempt at pleasantries.
    ‘What are you talking about?’
    ‘Diane’s message said:
Sorry – a bit stressed. Taking time out.
Then two kisses. Have you ever heard her use those words?’
    ‘What –
taking time out
?’
    ‘Yeah.’
    There’s a gap while she thinks about it. ‘I don’t know. I can’t remember. I don’t see why not.’
    Alexa doesn’t see the significance like I do. I know they’re not
your
words.
    I end the call and stare blankly out of the bedroom window. I have to do something.
    I ring Tara and we arrange to meet at St Mary’s. I cycle over – it’s less than five miles – and leave my bike locked to a drainpipe by the main entrance. The glass front is locked. It’s thesummer holidays, but I know teachers regularly pop in to clear their classrooms and prepare for the September intake. I walk round to the side of the building and look for lights. Meeting at the school is a good idea – it feels better than a bar. Even so, I feel a shiver of awkwardness when I see Tara through the window – you’d know why. We laughed about it afterwards; it’s not easy to forget.
    Tara waves at me from her classroom and sends me back to the main door.
    ‘There’s no one else here,’ she explains, clicking the key in the lock. ‘Total bliss without the kids or any teachers – although the caretaker is around.’ She catches my eye as she says the last few words, as if she wants to make sure I realise we’re not alone, before turning on her heel for me to follow. I consider whether I might have said something to upset her recently – or whether during one of your tête-à-têtes, Dee, you’ve told her something about me she doesn’t like the sound of. I put it out of my mind – my focus has to be on filling in the gaps surrounding your disappearance.
    When we reach her classroom, she invites me to sit on a desk at the front while she tips two curled-up spider plants into the bin. Tara is undeniably beautiful with a cute dark bob and green eyes elongated with thick black liner. She looks exotic and alluring. During our conversation she doesn’t stop moving: busying herself stripping posters from the walls, clearing old books into boxes, putting out fresh exercise books for the new faces in September.
    ‘How was Dee when you last saw her?’ I ask.
    ‘It was the last day of term, but to be honest all the staff were on auto-pilot just trying to get to the finishing post. I didn’t