His Silence - Chapter 80

There’s a shimmer of mist outside when I head to the annexe, bathed in the silver glow of the moonlight. The cold’s beginning to creep beneath my clothes. I hug my arms to my chest. We’re supposed to be heading into July and yet it feels like we’re in winter. I’d darted into the living room after finishing the washing up, thinking Callum must be finished with Mary, but couldn’t him. I’d asked Abigail where they were and she’d said they were having a chat, like it was no big deal. Mary’s probably planting more ideas into Callum’s head. God, what if she’s thinking that working with him at night, when he might be tired, might make him more susceptible to her suggestions. He needs to remember what I said to him this morning. I need him.

The sound of the willow tree whistling reaches my ear as I dive into the annexe, breathing hard. There’s no sound coming from Oliver’s room. I head straight into my room. The blood's still there on the carpet, of course it would still be there, it was only earlier on this morning I saw it. I thought, after our conversation with Eve this afternoon, she might ask Mary, or Oliver, if I could still share her room tonight, but she didn’t.

My phone bleeps in my pocket. I pull it out. It’s Max.

            From: Max Hardy

            To: Danielle Olsen

            Date: 25th June 2024 at 21:30

            Subject: Oliver Adams

            Hi Danielle,

            Sorry for taking the time to get back to you. This is what the archive centre managed to find, I had to pay extra for an express turnaround for them to get it to me a soon. There are few newspaper articles about the crash Oliver was involved in, some of which make some interesting reading. Anyway, I hope this is what you’re looking for.

He’s actually found something. I click on the first link he’s sent me. It’s a PDF. The date at the top of the article is the 29th November 1990.

I begin to read.

Yesterday evening on the 28th November 1990 at 10 pm a young woman in her early thirties, was pronounced dead at the scene following a horrific car crash on Marine Parade. No other vehicle was involved. Another person, also in the same car as the woman was injured, but it is not believed their injuries are life threatening. While an investigation is ongoing and the road remains closed, it is believed that this was sadly a tragic accident.

This would’ve been in just a small section of the newspaper. There’s no wonder it wasn’t uploaded online.

I turn to the next article, fingers trembling. It’s from a week after the date of the crash.

            VIGIL HELD FOR SANDRA ADAMS

            Last night at 10pm, at approximately the same time a horrific car accident took place on the 28th November, a vigil was held for Sandra Adams, who sadly passed away at the scene. Sandra was a well-known and well-liked figure in the community, often helping out at the local food bank. She also had a part time job at St Francis Hospice, where she worked three times a week. More than one hundred people attended the vigil, which was led by the Reverend Thomas Smith of St. Clement’s Church and Sandra’s husband, Oliver, who she only married two years ago. Supporting Oliver was his half-brother Gavin Burns.

What the hell? My hearts banging against my chest. Gavin Burns. The name Gavin kept popping up in Mum’s diary. It’s got to be the same person . . .  it’s got to be. Shit, he’s Oliver’s half-brother. There’s a black and white photograph of the vigil at the bottom of the page. I recognise Oliver straight away; he hasn’t changed much in the years since. Beside him there’s another person standing, hands clasped together in front of him, eyes glancing to his left at Oliver. No, it can’t be. I continue to stare at the image. It’s . . . Jesus Christ, it’s Ian. Gavin is Ian Jones.