Trail of destruction, p.1
Trail of Destruction, page 1
PRAISE FOR TRACY BUCHANAN:
‘I was left absolutely traumatised in a totally brilliant way . . . Beautiful, heartbreaking, uplifting . . . Really worth a read.’
—HELLO!
‘A pacey read . . . A great book to take to the beach!’
—Daily Mail
‘I was entranced from the very first page and couldn’t put it down until I had all the answers. Tracy weaves a seamless tale while offering brilliant descriptions and raw emotions.’
—Angela Marsons, author of Child’s Play
‘A must-read for fans of psychological suspense. Tightly plotted and intense, this novel will have you looking over your shoulder and peeking under your bed. Filled with twists and turns, it will keep you flying through the pages to the shocking end.’
—Heather Gudenkauf, Before She Was Found
‘Wall of Silence is wild, a “whodunnit” rollercoaster. The story launches with a bang with one of the most original openings I’ve read. Tracy Buchanan has crafted a novel where the plot literally thickens with every page turned and new secrets simmer as the reader is pulled deeper into her cast of characters’ web of lies and silence. I was captivated from page one, entertained throughout, and shocked over the final reveal. Loved it!’
—Kerry Lonsdale, Wall Street Journal and Washington Post bestselling author
‘Secrets and lies abound in this complex and chilling mystery. I was totally shocked by the ending!’
—Lesley Kara, Sunday Times bestselling author of The Rumour
‘A darkly addictive read that draws you deep into the tangled web of secrets that lie at the heart of the Byatt family.’
—Lucy Clarke, bestselling author of The Sea Sisters, a Richard and Judy Book Club choice
OTHER TITLES BY TRACY BUCHANAN:
The Atlas of Us
My Sister’s Secret
No Turning Back
Her Last Breath
The Lost Sister
The Family Secret
Wall of Silence
Circle of Doubt
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2021 by Tracy Buchanan Limited
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Lake Union Publishing, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Lake Union Publishing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781542031998
ISBN-10: 1542031990
Cover design by Sarah Whittaker
In memory of Mum,
our constant sunny spot and my biggest influence.
CONTENTS
Prologue
PART 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
PART 2
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Prologue
Sunday 8th August
4.15 a.m.
The flames cast shadows on their faces as they watch their beloved forest burn down, a rush of wind bringing with it the acrid smell of scorched branches and singed leaves that only the day before had provided a canopy of shade during the hottest day of the summer.
Many of the residents of Forest Grove are still in their nightclothes, tears running down their cheeks, hair turned orange by the light of the turbulent flames ahead of them. Others, having only just been woken by the sound of people shouting and the hiss of flames, are running towards the forest, hands over their mouths as they take in the horror before them.
A human chain forms, buckets of all shapes and sizes passed from hand to hand, so heavy with water people groan at the weight of them. At the front, two men take it in turns to throw the water at the flames. They know it can’t possibly make much of a difference as the angry inferno blazes before them. But this is a community where, even in the face of hopeless adversity, something must be seen to be done.
Even the slight hope that comes when sirens sound in the distance is tempered by the horror of what’s happening to their forest, the increasing gaps left by fallen and blackened trees a devastating testament to what will remain at the end.
The residents clutch at each other, grief-stricken, and yet still somehow hypnotised by it all. The sound of sirens fills the air, the night lighting up with the flashing blue lights of two fire engines that screech up the road behind them. The residents of Forest Grove continue their human chain, while firefighters jump out of their vehicles and run between the lines of villagers with a hose to direct a huge jet of water at the fire.
Then a cry louder than the rest rings out as a woman shoves through the crowds, face tight with fear. She tries to rush into the flames, but the firemen hold her back.
‘Let me get in!’ she screams. ‘He’s in the forest! I have to save him!’
Gasps of horror sound out. But one person watches with a smile, refusing to feel any guilt.
Yes, they struck the match. Yes, they revelled in the hiss it made and enjoyed the scorch from the flame on their fingers. But they tell themselves this fire and the prospect of someone being hurt isn’t really their fault. It’s the fault of the residents witnessing the forest’s destruction. If they weren’t all so blind to the reality that sits at the heart of Forest Grove like a rotting corpse, then making this fiery stand would not have been necessary. The reality is these people’s actions can burn like the spectacle before them; the village as stifling as the smoke clogging the air.
Now that rotting heart will be exposed as the walls built around it burn down until, finally, the truth will be learnt about this vicious village.
PART 1
One month before
Chapter 1
Saturday 10th July
10 a.m.
Ellie Mileham walked through the forest, enjoying the way the morning light gave the leaves a soft, hazy glow. It helped her think, being among the trees, as it had all her life. And now more than ever, she needed to think.
It had been three months since her husband, Peter, had walked out on her. Three months that had felt like a tornado ripping through her life. But now it was beginning to feel like that tornado had stopped. Finally, she could begin to put the pieces of her life back together in the way she wanted.
Her dog, a lanky, loving Boxer called Stanley, stopped to sniff at some leaves. Ellie took the chance to pause for a moment, closing her eyes and leaning her head back, enjoying the warmth of the summer breeze on her face.
Yes, she definitely felt a clarity of purpose now. A sense of peace.
As she thought that, a loud bang echoed through the air, sending birds fleeing in terror from their branches. Stanley let out a panicked bark and Ellie jumped in shock, putting her hand to her thumping heart.
‘What on earth was that?’ she said.
It had sounded like a gunshot. But surely not here in the forest?
Another shot pierced the air.
‘Stanley, here! Now!’ Stanley darted over to her, pressing close to her legs and trembling slightly as she grabbed his collar. ‘It’s okay, sweetheart, let’s get out of here, shall we?’
She quickly turned on her heel and strode away from the sounds of shots, the twigs and leaves that had just a moment before felt like a soft carpet beneath her feet now more like spikes, making her trip and stumble.
Another shot rang out, closer this time, and voices too. She froze as she recognised one of the voices.
Her ex-husband, Peter.
She rolled her eyes. Since when had Peter taken up shooting?
Her irritation was quickly followed by anger. Didn’t he realise how bloody dangerous it was, especially for the forest’s deer population, which she’d campaigned so hard to protect?
She ran back towards the sound of voices, calling out, ‘Stop shooting, please, another human in the woods!’ As she drew closer, she saw a section of the woods had been taped off with notices declaring:
SHOOTING PRACTICE IN PROGRESS. DO NOT ENTER!
‘Shooting practice for what?’ she hissed under her breath. A few weeks back, there had been talk that the forest ranger, Frazer Cronin, wanted to apply for a deer-control licence. But E llie had managed to get that shouted down via the village’s Facebook community group. She presumed Frazer had changed his mind after the obvious opposition from many of the villagers who, like her, loved catching sight of the beautiful creatures during early-morning walks.
As she drew closer to the voices, she spotted Peter among the trees with his father, Tommy, the forest ranger Frazer and another villager, a man in his late sixties called Graham Cane. Graham ran the local shooting club, which Peter had been a member of in the months before he and Ellie separated. Graham had once run a farm before moving to Forest Grove and took great pride in owning a shooting licence. When Ellie had lived with her parents, their house had backed on to his house, and he was always complaining about one thing or another. The lifetime of negativity and venom seemed to show on his wizened, old face, his watery, blue eyes filled with spite.
The four men were aiming rifles at targets which had been set up.
Peter turned and looked at Ellie in surprise before lowering his gun. He looked ridiculous in a tweed flat cap pulled over his short, auburn hair and a tweed jacket wrapped around his tall, slim body.
Stanley got out of her grip and darted under the tape, racing over to Peter as Peter laughed, stroking him.
Traitor.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ Ellie asked. ‘Do you realise how dangerous this is?’
‘Calm down, love,’ Peter said, raising an eyebrow at the other men. ‘We cordoned the area off, put up notices.’
Love. How patronising.
Unable to deal with her ex’s smug face, she turned towards Frazer. He was much shorter than Peter, his red cheeks the only thing ensuring he didn’t blend into the trees with his green forest ranger get-up. ‘Are you even allowed to be doing this, Frazer?’
He regarded her nervously. ‘It’s all above board, Ellie.’
‘Yep,’ Graham said. ‘Just need to get some practice in for the deer-control licence we’re applying for, right, Frazer?’
Frazer sighed and Ellie’s mouth dropped open. ‘But that’s going against the villagers’ wishes!’ she said.
‘A post on a Facebook group isn’t exactly an official democratic act, Ellie,’ her ex-father-in-law, Tommy, said. He was an imposing figure, a big bear of a man who carried his many years as a police detective in the air around him.
Peter nodded in agreement. ‘Not to mention that behind closed doors, the same people saying in public they love the deer are complaining in private to Frazer about all the damage they do.’
‘Like trampling through my rose bushes!’ Tommy said.
Ellie resisted the urge to shake her head. Tommy was always going on about his rose bushes; no surprise he was happy to see wildlife sacrificed to save them.
‘And they risk car accidents as they dart across the roads here,’ Graham added.
‘A small number of incidents,’ Ellie said, ‘nothing compared to the joy the deer bring.’ She turned to the forest ranger. ‘You can’t just go charging ahead, Frazer. We villagers need to be officially consulted.’
As she said that, a figure approached from the trees behind the men and she realised with horror that it was her and Peter’s seventeen-year-old son, Tyler. He looked completely out of place with his skinny, grey jeans, piercings and black hair shaved short at the back, long and dyed blue at the front.
She yanked the tape up, ducking beneath it and walking towards her son. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Just here with Dad and Grandad,’ he mumbled as he greeted an exuberant Stanley.
‘Not shooting, I hope?’ Ellie asked.
‘Yep.’
‘Jesus, you don’t even have a licence!’
‘Oh, come on, Ellie, it was just a little practice shot,’ Peter said, shaking his head.
Tyler looked down at his trainer-clad feet, avoiding her gaze. ‘Kinda regretting it now.’
She felt her heart contract. Tyler and his father had an uneasy relationship, Peter not approving of Tyler’s ambitions to be a lead guitarist in a band (‘Pipe dreams!’ he’d say. ‘Be more realistic, get into law like me!’ ‘Or at least play more sport,’ his grandfather would add, ‘it’s good for mental development, you know!’). She supposed this was Tyler’s way of showing his dad and grandfather he could get involved with a sport . . . even if that sport meant doing something that Ellie knew would feel unnatural to him. As she looked at his miserable face, she wished she could just take Tyler back with her now rather than let him go home with his dad. She desperately missed the kids during the days they were with their father. It was one of the many things she’d had to get used to over the past three months.
Ellie turned to her ex, furious. ‘I can’t believe you allowed this, Peter.’
‘Nothing wrong with a bit of informal shooting practice!’ Tommy bellowed.
‘Dad’s right,’ Peter said, putting his hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘It’s sport, isn’t it?’
‘Sport, yeah, right,’ Ellie said, shaking her head. ‘You should have checked with me first. Please don’t tell me Zoe is here too?’ She looked around for their thirteen-year-old daughter.
Tommy laughed. ‘Not a chance! That girl almost faints at the sight of a dead hedgehog. She’s with Meghan,’ he said, referring to Peter’s mother.
‘I don’t exactly remember Tyler being overjoyed when we found that hedgehog in our garden either,’ Ellie said.
‘That was two years ago, Mum,’ Tyler said, cheeks reddening in embarrassment.
Ellie curled her hands into fists. This was so typical of Peter, just storming ahead to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.
‘I’m not happy,’ she said, ‘and the villagers won’t be either,’ she added, gesturing towards the rooftops in the distance.
‘We’re doing this for the village, Ellie,’ Tommy said in an exasperated voice.
Graham sighed. ‘Forget it, Tommy. No point trying to explain, silly women like this just don’t get it.’
Tyler glared at him, stepping even closer to his mum. She smiled. For all his teenage sulkiness, he knew when his mum needed his support.
‘Silly women?’ Ellie said, eyes drilling into Graham’s. ‘I recall you calling my mother the exact same thing when we lived behind you.’
‘Her bloody conifer blocked the sun out!’ Graham said.
‘It didn’t. The council came out to check too and confirmed it didn’t.’ She tilted her head. ‘What is it about you and strong women who speak their mind, Graham? Does it make you feel uncomfortable?’
Graham laughed. ‘Strong? Your mother? Hardly. Look at the state of her now.’
Ellie’s mouth dropped open in shock.
‘Don’t say that about my nan,’ Tyler said.
‘Rein it in, Graham,’ Tommy said in a low voice.
‘That was below the belt,’ Ellie said, trying to keep the tremble from her voice. ‘Stanley, come here, time to head home!’ Stanley bounced over to her and she attached his lead. She looked at the other men. ‘Remember what I said, Frazer,’ she said, staring at the forest ranger, ‘you must consult the village.’
‘Look, Ellie,’ Peter said with a sigh, ‘I think you need to accept the deer need to be controlled, whether you like it or not.’
‘We’ll see about that. I’ll see you tonight, okay?’ she said to Tyler. Then she turned on her heel and walked off, Stanley bounding along with her.
Ellie watched her mother’s face that afternoon as she slowly moved the red play piece along a ladder on the colourful board in front of her. Her brow was knitted with concentration and Ellie could see she hadn’t rubbed her moisturiser in properly, meaning it was clogging the lines in her face. The old her would have hated that. She’d always been so meticulous about ensuring her skin looked perfect. But now her desire to look as good as she could had gone.
‘Nice one, Mum,’ Ellie said.
Her mother barely reacted, just continued staring at the board.
Around them, the other residents played board games too. They were sat outside in the Lovat AfterCare Village’s gardens, shaded by trees and wooden gazebos. The retirement village had formerly been a large hotel that sat at the north end of the forest near where Ellie used to live with her parents. The building had been there many years before the village grew up around it. After going out of business in the seventies, it had sat abandoned until it was bought by a company specialising in homes for the retired. They had turned it into a retirement village in the early 2000s, a few years before Ellie’s mother became a resident. It was a pleasant-looking white-bricked building with vast windows looking out on to the forest. Residents had a variety of needs, from those who could live independently to others who needed around-the-clock care. Her mother was somewhere in between, her lethargy and lack of desire to do much nowadays meaning she sometimes needed a little encouragement. So while she lived in the main building where people got the most care, she was able to do more than the others there.
