When Night Closes in Read online

  About the Book

  Lowri was happier than she had ever been. A romantic weekend away with her brand-new fiancé Jon was proving just the break they both needed - until he disappeared from their bedroom, leaving nothing behind but a terrifying mystery. For Lowri soon discovered that the man she thought she had known and loved was a very different person to the reality – particularly when she met his wife, Sarah. And the police naturally treated Lowri as the prime suspect in what they assumed to be a murder case.

  More evidence came to light of Jon's double life, and Lowri wondered whom she could trust. She began to doubt her work colleagues, her friends, even her family. As the net tightened around the man she had thought she loved, she realised that her own life was in terrible danger . . .

  A tense and exciting story of fraud, blackmail, jealousy and passion from the author of Firebird.

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  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

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  About the Author

  Also by Iris Gower

  Copyright

  When Night Closes In

  Iris Gower

  To my dear friend Joan Barratt, with love and thanks for always being there.

  Acknowledgements

  Anita Pugh and John Lahane, computer buffs.

  1

  Lowri Richards was aware of the heat, of the sensuous feel of the sun on her near-naked body, and as she settled herself more comfortably in the padded recliner her silk robe fell open, allowing the sunshine to bathe her legs. It was completely private on the balcony of the Swan Hotel and Lowri turned up the sound on her Walkman. Below her, the tide washed in against the shore from the Bristol Channel, a soft soothing sound that heightened the state of euphoria that came with the afterglow of lovemaking. She slept.

  She woke to the chill of the late August night. The sun had long since disappeared and the balcony was in deep shadow. Below her the sea was invisible, except for the strip of phosphorescent light at the shoreline. The nightmare had come to plague her again; why now, when she was so happy?

  She tried to rise. Her limbs felt leaden, her mouth was dry, unnaturally dry. Surely she had not drunk that much whisky? She felt again the sense of impending doom that always came after the nightmare and shivered. Usually she could shake it off almost on waking, but now it hung over her like a black cloud.

  Lowri stretched her arms above her head, breathing in the night air, trying to focus her mind. She smiled as she thought of Jon, who was probably asleep in the room behind her. Or was he waiting until she woke, ready to snatch her into his arms and make passionate love to her again?

  She realized she was shivering, and as she fumbled with the sliding doors of the balcony she felt the cold of the stone floor beneath her feet. It suddenly struck her as strange that Jon should leave her to sleep out on the balcony for so long.

  The door slid open and Lowri stepped into the warmth of the bedroom. The mirror on the old-fashioned dressing-table reflected a little light but once the balcony curtains closed behind her, the room was plunged into darkness. Lowri edged forward, her bare foot coming in contact with her overnight bag.

  She almost fell as she cannoned into the bedside table and the water jug rattled against a glass. Lowri smelled whisky, strong and pungent, and immediately remembered lying in Jon’s arms as he poured the amber liquid onto her breasts, licking it off eagerly as he took her nipple into his mouth.

  Everything was strangely quiet and she hesitated, trying to see into the darkness.

  ‘Jon?’ The room felt empty and yet Lowri had the eerie feeling that she was being watched.

  ‘Jon, where are you, darling?’ There was no answer and the silence was unnerving. She tried again. ‘Jon!’ Her tone was sharper now. Something was wrong, the lights should be on, Jon should be showering, pouring another drink, anything. She felt the bed with her knees; as she touched it, she knew it was empty.

  She reached up to find the switch and light flooded the room. No sign of him. Lowri tried to breathe deeply. It was silly to panic; Jon had obviously slipped out for some reason and would be back soon. Then why was she so apprehensive?

  She looked round the room: it appeared soulless, unoccupied. The bed was neatly made. Frowning, Lowri opened the wardrobe door where Jon had hung his jacket. It was gone. So was his overnight bag. She had seen him stow his belongings away only hours ago, resisting the urge to tell him that his jacket was crooked on the hanger.

  ‘Where is he?’ Her voice sounded strangely loud in the emptiness of the room. She hurried towards the bathroom; it was as pristine as the bedroom. No sign of Jon’s shaving-tackle, no toothbrush, nothing.

  ‘He’s gone!’ she said in disbelief. ‘He has really gone.’

  She sat on the bed and shivered. ‘Jon, why are you doing this to me?’ Her voice was a wail of despair. She looked down at her fingers: she was still wearing the beautiful ring Jon had given her earlier in the day. She believed the ring was a symbol of his love, so why on earth would he walk out on her?

  Something must have happened to him. Jon would never walk away from her without a word; it was just not in his nature. She reached for the phone and dialled reception. ‘Miss Richards here, has anyone checked out of the hotel in the last few hours?’

  The voice was smooth, masculine. ‘No-one has checked out, not officially, madam.’

  ‘What do you mean, officially?’

  ‘I mean no bill has been settled.’

  Lowri panicked – something was badly wrong. ‘All right, did you see anyone leaving the hotel carrying a bag? His name is Jon Brandon. A tall man with dark hair, very good-looking, you couldn’t miss him.’

  ‘I don’t really concern myself with the guests’ comings and goings, madam. So long as the bill is paid before all parties vacate the room I mind my own business.’

  ‘Get me the manager.’ Lowri was trembling with fear and frustration. ‘I want to speak to the manager right now.’

  ‘You are speaking to the manager, madam. I’m Mr Peters.’

  Lowri gritted her teeth and stared at the phone as though she hated it. ‘Well then, Mr Peters, perhaps you will answer my questions and stop being such a tight arse!’

  She heard a sniff at the other end of the line. And then a click and the line went dead. She immediately redialled. ‘If you don’t get up here right now, I’m calling the police!’ she shouted.

  ‘No need for that, madam. In any case, you would need to obtain an outside line. Now, keep calm and I will be with you as soon as I can.’

  Lowri slammed down the phone and got to her feet and walked restlessly around the room. Her mind was racing with questions, questions that seemed to have no answer. In a few minutes that seemed to drag on for hours, there was a discreet tapping at the door.

  The manager was steely-eyed behind his glasses. ‘I don’t know what I can do for you, madam.’ He inclined his head. ‘I understand your . . . your companion has left?’

 
; ‘Don’t patronize me!’ Lowri said. ‘You must know if a man has checked out tonight or not. Is it too much to ask that you confirm that for me?’

  ‘As I told you on the phone, no-one has checked out and if this man has gone, he didn’t think to appraise me of his departure.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I do hope this is not a ploy to avoid paying your bill.’

  ‘Of course it isn’t!’ Lowri said, attempting a conciliatory tone. She would get nowhere if she continued to antagonize Mr Peters. ‘I’m just worried, Jon would never walk out on me like that, something is wrong.’

  She saw the manager glance around the room, at the freshly made bed, at the table holding a whisky bottle, a jug of water and . . . there was only one glass. Lowri frowned. What was happening, was she going mad?

  ‘I think I should ask you to settle your bill at once, madam,’ the manager was saying. ‘I would be obliged if you would . . .’ he hesitated, ‘get some clothes on and come to reception and settle up.’

  He looked at her skimpy wrap with a grimace of distaste. He had summed her up and found her wanting. His next words came as a blow.

  ‘It might be better if you left at once.’ Mr Peters looked down at her overnight bag. ‘I see you have not unpacked. That’s all to the good. I shall expect you in reception in ten minutes. I will have your bill ready.’

  Lowri began to panic. She had left her credit cards at home. After all, Jon had said he was paying.

  The manager read her expression. ‘No money.’ He sighed.

  Lowri felt fear tingle along her spine. ‘I don’t care what you say, Jon would not just vanish. I want the police brought in, in fact I insist on it!’

  ‘There’s no need for that, I assure you!’ the manager said quickly. ‘If you don’t have enough cash with you, just give me proof of identification and your address and you can put a cheque in the post as soon as you get home.’

  ‘Look, Jon is missing, something has happened to him, you must get the police. If you don’t phone them, I will.’

  ‘Just be calm, madam, I’m sure it will all sort itself out in due course.’

  ‘I want the police!’ Lowri was aware she sounded like a spoiled child but she no longer cared. Panic was racing through her. Jon must be ill, must have suffered a brainstorm or met with an accident.

  Reluctantly, Mr Peters picked up the phone and Lowri could hear him instructing someone on reception to call the police.

  She sank onto the bed. She would have to report Jon missing, he could not have vanished into thin air, but where on earth was he? Only a few hours ago she had been warm in his arms and now she was alone with the manager, who was staring at her as if she was a crazy woman. She shivered suddenly. The room in which she and Jon were to spend a happy weekend together had begun to feel like a prison.

  ‘This man you say you were with, what’s his name again?’ The manager was looking down his pinched nose at her.

  ‘Jon, Jon Brandon, you must know it, he made the booking.’

  ‘I don’t think so, miss. You signed in yourself, at least you did if your name is Lowri Richards.’

  He was right, she had signed in while Jon fetched the bags from the boot of the car. The car – it must be still at the entrance to the hotel.

  ‘His car must still be outside,’ she said. Mr Peters shrugged.

  ‘If the gentleman has left, he’s probably taken his car with him.’ He smiled a little maliciously. ‘We are quite remote here, as you no doubt realize.’

  ‘He couldn’t ditch me here without transport, it’s just not like him,’ she protested. But then perhaps it was exactly like him. Just how well did she know Jon? Questions ran round in her head until she felt she was going mad.

  It seemed an eternity before the police arrived. Meanwhile, the manager stood in the doorway, arms folded across his thin chest, as though afraid she would make a run for it.

  The uniformed officer who finally stepped into the room seemed weary, as if he had been on his feet all day. ‘What’s happened here?’ He glanced towards Lowri.

  ‘Miss Richards says her companion, Mr Jon Brandon, has left. He hasn’t paid the bill.’ Mr Peters got in first.

  The police officer threw the man a glance. ‘I would like Miss Richards to answer the question herself, sir, if it’s all right by you.’

  ‘Look, officer, I came here with my fiancé, now Jon has vanished and I’m worried sick about him.’

  Mr Peters coughed. ‘I would be obliged if you would take Miss Richards somewhere, officer, away from my hotel.’ He shrugged. ‘Business is bad enough without me looking for complications.’

  Lowri ignored him. ‘Please,’ she spoke calmly, ‘can’t you search the place or something? Jon could be ill, or he might have received an emergency call while I was asleep and had to dash off. There just has to be a logical explanation.’

  The young constable looked doubtfully around the room. He checked the bathroom and then shook his head. ‘There is no evidence of anyone but you ever having been here, miss,’ he said slowly. ‘Perhaps you’d better just pay up and go home?’

  Lowri sighed. ‘I don’t think I’ve got enough money on me, but I work for a solicitor, a Mr Watson of Watson Jones and Fry. Why don’t you ring him, he’ll vouch for me.’ She paused. ‘And I think you should make a note of the fact that I’ve reported a man missing. It might be as well to speak to a senior officer in case Jon is in some kind of trouble.’

  ‘I don’t know about that, madam, the senior officers only attend serious cases.’

  ‘I’m telling you this is a serious case. Now are you willing to take the risk or not?’

  The young policeman shook his head again and Lowri saw him click into his radio. She heard it crackle a response. She stared at her hands, unable to think clearly. She shivered, feeling cold suddenly.

  ‘Better put something on, miss.’ The constable sounded sympathetic. He avoided looking directly at her and Lowri felt an insane desire to laugh. Something awful might have happened to Jon and this fresh-faced young man was worrying about her modesty.

  Lowri opened the door to the wardrobe and took out the skirt and blouse she had arrived in. Suddenly she felt sick and leaned against the wall for support.

  ‘Do you feel all right, miss?’ the policeman said.

  ‘I’m wonderful!’ she said, her voice rising. ‘Jon has vanished, there’s this man insisting I pay up, and I’ve got no money to speak of. Of course I don’t feel all right.’

  The officer moved away and Lowri heard him speaking quietly to the manager. He mentioned tea and, suddenly, her throat was so dry it felt as if it was closing up. She began to cry. Silent tears ran down her face and trickled saltily into her mouth. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. This was a nightmare, a real one. The one that haunted her sleep was nothing like this. She sank onto the bed, clutching her clothes against her.

  The tea was brought and Lowri sipped it, comforted by the warmth. She pushed aside the balcony curtain, longing for daylight. Outside, darkness filled the balcony; the sea rushed in towards the shore. But now it did not have a soothing sound – it was menacing, cold.

  ‘Please!’ She appealed to the constable again. ‘Won’t you go and look for Jon – he could be lying hurt somewhere?’ She heard the hysteria in her voice and hastily drank some more tea.

  The constable hesitated, and looked up with an expression of relief as another man came into the room.

  ‘Ah, sir, thanks for coming.’

  ‘There was no-one else, Constable.’

  Lowri studied the new arrival. He was wearing a suit, too dark and heavy for the summer weather, but he was older than the constable and presumably more experienced, and his presence was reassuring.

  ‘Detective Inspector Lainey,’ he said. He stared down at her for a long time.

  ‘There seems to be a problem.’

  Lowri looked up at him hopefully. ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I’ll have to ask you some questions, do you understand?’ he ask
ed.

  She nodded. But she did not understand any of it. All she wanted was to go home.

  ‘Can I be excused for a minute?’ She was surprised at the humble tone in her voice. She was acting as though she was guilty of something; it was absurd. The detective agreed, after making a note of her name. With a sigh of relief Lowri went into the bathroom and closed the door, leaning her head against the cool tiles. At least she had a few minutes to herself to think.

  Her knickers and bra, discarded in her haste to get into bed with Jon, lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. Absently, she picked them up, remembering how eagerly she had run naked into the bedroom. They had made crazy, passionate love, not once but several times, and yet the bed had been remade while she slept. Why? She wondered if the sheets had been changed. If not, surely there would be something to prove that Jon had been there with her? For some reason she needed to convince the police and herself that she had not imagined the whole thing.

  She splashed her face with cold water and dressed quickly before returning to the bedroom. The detective inspector’s next remark threw her.

  ‘You haven’t unpacked yet, Miss Richards. Perhaps you were in a hurry to leave?’

  ‘No, I wasn’t in a hurry to leave, why should I be?’ she said, exasperation clear in her voice. ‘I didn’t unpack because my fiancé and I had a sudden urge to make love until we dropped, any objections?’ She took a deep breath and moderated her tone.

  ‘Look,’ she said, ‘Jon drove us here in his car, it should still be outside.’

  ‘I’ll check, shall I, sir?’ The uniformed officer seemed eager to leave the problem in his superior’s hands. DI Lainey nodded.

  ‘Perhaps the manager here could assist you.’ He glanced at Mr Peters. ‘Between the two of you it should be easy to establish if the cars outside are accounted for.’

  Lowri gave the two men details of Jon’s car, and they went out. The detective looked at her. ‘Why is the bed so neat and tidy if, as you explained so graphically, you were overcome with passion?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ Lowri dragged back the bedspread. The sheets were pristine, the pillowcases showing no signs of the whisky that had run between her breasts. She flushed hotly at the memory. There was an uncomfortable silence.