Leave No Trace

Leave No Trace Cover Title Page Dedication Epigraph Prologue THE CLUB One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten THE CLUB Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen THE CLUB Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty-One Twenty-Two Twenty-Three Twenty-Four THE CLUB Twenty-Five Twenty-Six Twenty-Seven Twenty-Eight Twenty-Nine Thirty Thirty-One Thirty-Two Thirty-Three Thirty-Four Thirty-Five THE CLUB Thirty-Six Thirty-Seven THE CLUB Thirty-Eight Thirty-Nine Forty Forty-One Forty-Two THE CLUB Forty-Three Forty-Four Forty-Five Forty-Six THE CLUB Forty-Seven Forty-Eight Forty-Nine Fifty Fifty-One Fifty-Two Fifty-Three Fifty-Four THE CLUB Fifty-Five Fifty-Six Fifty-Seven Fifty-Eight Book Soundtrack Playlist Acknowledgements About the Author Also by MJ White Copyright Cover Table of Contents Start of Content Dedication To my lovely Bob For listening, supporting and cheerleading And always believing in me xx Epigraph ‘Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires: The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be, Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.’ Macbeth Act 1, Scene 4 William Shakespeare (1564–1616) Prologue (Extract from transcript of The Missing Son true crime documentary, a Quaesitor Co. production ©2013 All Rights Reserved) Interviewer: Your son has been missing for five years. No word, no sign. And then the messages began. One a year, on the anniversary of the date he went missing. Tell me, as Ewan Stokes’ mother, how does that feel? Olwyn Stokes-Norton: It’s hard. The messages aren’t for my family. They aren’t for me. But it’s a spark of hope. And that can be cruel, because it constantly reminds me what I’ve lost. But it’s a comfort to know that Ewan isn’t forgotten. Interviewer: Do you believe he’s the one sending them? Olwyn Stokes-Norton: Absolutely. Interviewer: The messages have been found across Europe, on sheets of white paper, left in prominent places where eagle-eyed watchers have photographed them to share online. How are you so certain your son has written them? Olwyn Stokes-Norton: It’s his handwriting. I would know it anywhere. Interviewer: After all you’ve gone through – the indifference of the police, the radio silence for five years, the lack of evidence of where Ewan could be now – do you feel in some way justified that there are people around the world sharing these messages? And talking about him? Olwyn Stokes-Norton: I’m grateful to everyone for keeping his name alive. As a family, we’ve been stunned by the response. All these people knowing about Ewan makes me feel we’re not alone in our fight to find him. I don’t know how to thank everyone for their support. Interviewer: And what about his rumoured return? Olwyn Stokes-Norton: [pause] I’m sorry, what? Interviewer: How do you feel about the Fifteen Year Return? It’s been widely shared amongst the Stokesy fan community. Olwyn Stokes-Norton: [pause] I don’t know… What are you talking about? Interviewer: The community of Stokesy-watchers believe that your son will return home on the fifteenth anniversary of the night he went missing. To exact revenge on those who forced him to run? Olwyn Stokes-Norton: How do they…? How can you ask me…? I’m sorry, can you stop filming, please? [She tugs at her lapel microphone as the camera quickly pans away.] THE CLUB I saw him. No you didn’t. I’m telling you, man. It was Stokesy. Okay, where? Webcam. Suffolk. Suffolk UK? Yes. Couldn’t have been him. Last sighting was Paris. So? No way would he come home. It wasn’t him. If he’s home this is it. The 15-Year Return. We don’t even know he said that. It’s all a myth. Check the date. It has to be him. The Club said we’d get a sign… It’s got out of hand with the Club. This whole thing is messed up. He said, ‘When it’s time…’ He didn’t write that. Stokesy’s gone. I saw him. It’s time. It’s finally happening. Typing… … … Then we need to warn people. Now. One CORA ‘You’re just sore you lost.’ Dr Cora Lael shot her companion a look. DS Rob Minshull was impossible when he won. It was only a Sunday evening quiz in a small Suffolk village pub and it really didn’t matter, but the prospect of a week of Minshull’s crowing was not something she was willing to endure without a fight. ‘If it weren’t for you stealing my answers in the music round we would’ve won,’ she returned with a smile. Minshull clamped a hand to his heart. ‘You’re accusing me of stealing?’ ‘I am, officer. Tris saw you telling your team seconds after I told ours, several times. You reckon he was lip-reading, don’t you, Tris?’ ‘You were staring over at our table a lot,’ Dr Tris Noakes agreed, his wink proof that he bore no ill will. ‘I’m insulted, frankly, Dr Noakes. And Dr Lael.’ Minshull’s grin was as unapologetic as his humour. ‘It just goes to show what happens when psychologists take on coppers. It’s all mind games to psych us out of our victory.’ ‘Don’t you listen to him,’ DC Dave Wheeler interrupted, elbowing his colleague out of the way. ‘He loved every minute, didn’t you, Minsh?’ ‘Yes, Dave,’ Minshull conceded, holding open the pub door for his colleagues to pass through. ‘Because we won…’ It was a perfect summer night out on St Just’s Church Street as the party walked away from the pub. Just the right amount of warmth to forgo a jacket, with a gentle, cooling breeze that was a gift after the heat of the packed pub. Cora loved the easy sense of belonging within the group and the other locals spilling out on to the street beside them. So much had happened in St Just that could have made it a place too heavy with ghosts. But everything this group had been through together had only brought them closer. She liked that. Walking beside people she now counted as friends was the greatest reward for all they had endured lately. ‘I told you it was a mistake doing two teams rather than one,’ PC Steph Lanehan said, her usual