Vanished

By M Y Antrobus

“If you ever speak my name, or tell anyone what just happened, I’ll find out where you live, I’ll break into your home, creep into your bedroom at night, and stab you to death with a knife from your mother’s kitchen. Do you understand?” - Dolly
All hell breaks loose when a teenager goes missing in a close-knit neighbourhood in East London. Avery, a sharp unassuming pensioner, sees her quiet, predictable life viciously turned on its head, and watches in horror as the people she loves crumble.
Destitute, and determined not to return to walking the streets at night, Dolly will do anything, and hurt anyone she can to grasp the better life she’s craved for so long.
Worlds collide, death is at every turn as two very different women find themselves thrust into a hidden world of money laundering, kidnap, and ritual killings - all in the name of freedom and justice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M Y Antrobus
• Release date: Sep 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463558461

M Y Antrobus

I'm probably the most disappointingly boring odd/quirky person there is, or at least in the top 20. Born in London in the late 1980s, I spent my formative years running about beneath the shadows of the capital's council flats.I grew up in two places - London and Lagos. I was born in and raised predominantly in London, but I spent a few years out in Lagos as a teenager. Living in Lagos State Nigeria really influenced my writing. I've always had an interest in the mysterious and unexplained, and Nigeria is FULL of creepy stories and mystery. Tales of kidnap, murder, mysterious goings on in the woods... all sorts. Now I live a predictable life in London, adulting (meh), and being a mum.

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© 2020 by Antrobus Digital Limited

Packaged in the United Kingdom

Cover Design by M.Y. Antrobus

Background image royalty free via unsplash.com (Photographer: Daniel Mccullough)

Author: M.Y. Antrobus

Edited by M.Y. Antrobus & Okoro Esther Nkem

ISBN: 9798682977123

This book is based on fictional events - no parts, or characters in this story represent anyone living or deceased.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical - including printing, photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system - without permission from the author,

M.Y. Antrobus. For permission enquiries please see contact section of www.miriwrites.co.uk Thank you for your cooperation, and for respecting the author’s copyright and hardwork.

Antrobus Digital Limited

United Kingdom

www.miriwrites.co.uk

Email: [e-mail]

Bonus Unpublished Content:

Dolly’s Epilogue

After You’ve Finished Vanished, don’t forget to grab your copy of

Dolly’s Epilogue. It’s free!

Read Dolly’s Epilogue for Free Here

Table of Contents

Dolly’s Epilogue - Bonus Content

Avery

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Dolly, Victory & Emmanuel

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Everyone

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

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

EPILOGUE

Dolly’s Epilogue - Bonus Content

Note from the Author

Books by M.Y. Antrobus

Avery

Chapter 1

Grace Salu sat at her dining table, as still as humanly possible. Her thoughts plagued with morbid images of her daughter’s corpse contorted in innumerable unnatural positions against an unsightly backdrop befitting of a stereotypical murder scene, courtesy her overactive and vivid imagination. Her eyes continuously darted between three points in the room: the wall clock, a painting of Jesus Christ, and the doorway. The clock informed her of the time, her saviour reassured her of the promises of her faith, and the doorway reminded her that Jessica wasn’t home yet.

Lord help me.

How could this be happening to her? Hadn’t she suffered enough? She and her husband tried to have a baby for over twelve years. In their early forties, they gave up, accepted their fate, and found pleasures in other things. Her husband, Samuel, took up hobbies, such as fishing and golf. She learnt embroidery, started playing badminton and volunteered at Sunday School. Then suddenly, at almost forty-six, she became pregnant. They couldn’t believe it. They were more shocked than excited, not sure if they still wanted to be parents. She’d never forget Samuel’s reaction when she told him the news.

Do you want to keep it? He said.

This didn’t shock her. Grace understood his point of view. She was almost fifty; medically her pregnancy was classified as geriatric, and would probably be rife with complications. Given their luck in the past with medical matters, was it worth the stress or disappointment of a possible miscarriage, frightening health issues, possible birth defects, or worse still - Grace losing her life?

I don’t want a child more than I want you, he said. I know it’s against our religious beliefs, but if you decide not to keep it, I will never mention it. It will be a secret between you, me, and God.

Samuel wasn’t in support of her not keeping their child because he didn’t want to lose her; he had a child - a boy to be precise. During her twelve-year battle with infertility, he had a child outside their marriage to appease his mother, who was insistent her son become a father.

You can’t die childless, because you married that empty-barrel woman, said Yetunde, Samuel’s mother, a shrivelled, overly superstitious monster of a woman, the African edition of the stereotypical evil mother-in-law. The witch has used all the children God allotted her as a sacrifice in her coven. I have it on good authority that before Grace met you, she was a seasoned prostitute, and had at least five abortions... In fact, I’m certain she has no womb; women like her usually have them removed after multiple abortions.

If Grace hadn’t seen so sad, she’d have chuckled. The shrew was wrong; she did have a womb, a working one; Jessica was living proof. She sighed, at least Yetunde was dead; Grace shuddered to think of what would have happened if she was still alive. She’d say something along the lines of, Aha, see I told you she was a witch. Now, she’s killed her child, or similar insensitive nonsense.

Avery poured tea in Grace’s teacup. The pensioner’s heart sank as she observed her neighbour and friend’s vacant stare.

Don’t worry Grace, she patted her lovingly on the hand. Everything will be alright. We’ll find Jessica.

Grace didn’t respond; instead, she looked beyond Avery, as though she could see into a hidden dimension.

She’s gone Avery, she said finally. I can feel it. Grace pointed at her heart through her chest. In here. I can feel it inside me. My daughter is dead.

Please don’t say that; I thought you are a Christian? Where’s all that mountain moving faith you’ve told me about over the years? Jess isn’t dead, okay?...

She sighed.

Jess is a young girl, and sometimes, young people do things that are mindless and selfish - like staying out with their friends all night and not calling. It isn’t even 10 A.M. yet. Jess will be home any moment now.

Tears spilled out from Grace’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Avery Spencer was 70 years old, had grown up in post-World War II Britain, lost her son and only child, Bertie, in a motorbike accident. Lost her husband, Arthur, to dementia, and had survived breast cancer. Still, her heart had never felt as much hurt as it did right now, for a very very long time. She wouldn’t admit it to Grace, but she was afraid too. And similar to Grace, she also hadn’t slept since she learnt Jessica was missing.

She’s not with her friends Avery, said Grace. And you know it; Anointed is her only friend, and they were at choir practice together. Jessica was supposed to spend the night at her house and come home today after school. She sniffed and wiped away the tears with the back of her hand.

Let me get you some tissues, sweetheart.

Avery stood up and fetched the box of tissues. She handed one to her friend and set the box on the dining table.

Thank you. Grace wiped her tears, though more only came to take their place. Anointed said Jessica went to use the toilet when the band were setting up. She left the auditorium, but didn’t return, she broke down once again, her face crumbling. She buried it in her palms, wailed a little.

Avery wanted to hold her, yet didn’t - she needed space to cry, and get everything bottled inside her out.

Grace stopped as soon as she was able to. She shook her head. I’m so sorry.

She grabbed another handful of tissues from the box, and wiped her face. The white of her eyes was red, and her usually immaculate straighten slicked back shoulder-length silver and black hair, was up and pointing in every direction - she had the appearance of a woman possessed, and yes, she was possessed - by grief.

She looked Avery in the eye and sniffed loudly.

Avery, she left her belongings: her bag, purse, and even her phone, in the church hall. She shook her head, She’s not coming back. My baby didn’t run away. Someone took her.

The crying began again, louder, and more intense this time. She cried with her entire being, face down, tears falling on the shiny polished surface of the mahogany dining table.

Avery looked away to the doorway, Where’s Samuel?

He was here when she arrived two hours ago. She assumed he’d gone to rest.

He’s gone to look for Jessica again, said Grace between sobs. She sniffed, and grabbed a second handful of tissues. He’ll be back soon... He messaged me. She attempted to point to her phone by the table’s floral centrepiece at the edge of the section of doyle facing their side of the table.

Good, you need him with you right now. Avery turned to her friend and smiled encouragingly, despite knowing it would do little to nothing to comfort her.

The details Grace provided were enlightening. Avery was no Miss Marple, but she knew there were only two possible answers - either Anointed was lying, and they never went to church, or someone who was in church yesterday evening was responsible for Jessica’s disappearance. Either way, she was determined to find out which it was.

Chapter 2

Avery got off bus 217 at Murphy Road, a fifteen minute walk from Posie Street, Anointed’s home. She set out as soon as Samuel returned from his second search of the neighbourhood. The poor man looked a mess; he’d been to Jessica’s school to see if she’d shown up, and every other place he could possibly think of, no matter how unlikely it seemed.

Avery had known Jessica since birth; for all intents and purposes, one could say she was the daughter Avery never had. They spent a lot of time together doing activities like gardening, Avery had been teaching Jess how to garden since she was two. From infancy up to Jess’s fourth year of secondary school, Avery watched her when her parents were busy. Aside from babysitting, Jess visited her everyday - at least once. During her many visits they’d bake, garden, watch television, tidy up, or sit in the conservatory, and talk about things. They went for walks regularly, and every Thursday, Jess helped Avery with her weekly grocery order.

Avery had to find Jessica - her life depended on it. Though she was retired, and seventy, still she was still in good physical shape, and was as sharp-minded as she’d ever been. She was confident she could figure out what had happened, and find her Jess.

She stopped at the white gate of number 25 Posie street. Avery observed the chipped paint on the iron gate, and the weeds growing from the cracks in the paved front garden - on first impressions this didn’t appear to be a home of the house proud, or perhaps the Aku’s Anointed’s parents were tenants? Renters tended to care less about the external aesthetics of their homes, in Avery’s opinion. She took a deep breath, and gently opened the gate. Grace had told her Anointed wasn’t attending school today due to what had transpired, which meant she was likely to be home.

***

Christopher Aku sat quietly in the corner of his living room. He was very uncomfortable. Not physically uncomfortable but emotionally, at least that’s what he thought it was. His wife, Juliet, was at work, but he called in sick. He needed time alone with his daughter. He loved Anointed, she was a good girl, yet not bright - he needed to keep an eye on her.

Christopher had warned his wife Jessica’s disappearance spelt trouble for them; however, she was dismissive, as she usually was concerning most things. Now he felt like a prophet. He wasn’t of course; he was simply an insightful man with a sense for potential issues.

I told you we should’ve sent this girl to school in Nigeria, he said to Juliet yesterday night after Anointed called to inform him Jessica had vanished. Look, now her friend is missing.

What has Anointed attending secondary school in the UK got to do with any of this, Christopher? Said Juliet. Biko, my daughter doesn’t have anything to do with any missing person. She said Jessica went to use the toilet and never returned. There are witnesses. What’s your problem?

You’re not thinking deeply enough, Juliet. People don’t just disappear. Either they never went to church, and Anointed is lying, or something happened at church. The girl left her bag, phone and wallet in the auditorium for Christ’s sake. She couldn’t have just vanished. He clicked his fingers, Just like that. This is a whole child we’re talking about, not an ant! An entire fifteen-year-old!

Juliet sighed.

See, this is why I said we should attend the Catholic Church. All these sorts of things don’t happen in Catholic Church … But these pentecostal outfits, she looked at him, tilted her head and joined her hands together. Only God will help us.

Christopher watched Avery as she took a seat opposite Anointed on the sofa at the back of the living room.

If Juliet was here, what would she have to say about this, an elderly English woman barging into their home to interrogate their daughter?

He knew Avery, though not very well, but well enough to know she was nothing more than a concerned neighbour, and should leave the investigative work to the police.

***

Avery smiled at Anointed. She gave a weary smile in response, her eyes filled with tears.

Ms. Avery, she sniffed and blurted out, I didn’t do anything. I didn’t hurt Jessica. I swear.

She was a naturally shy and nervous girl, a little on the large side for her age. The lenses of her large red-framed glasses were cloudy and stained with tears. Similar to Grace, Avery and Samuel, she didn’t appear to have slept well; there were bags beneath her eyes. She was dressed in her night clothes, a worn pinstriped powder blue pyjama set with matching fuzzy house slippers which had a bunny face on the front.

She’s been crying a lot.

Avery wondered if it was due to what had happened, or if her father, Christopher Aku, had something to do with it. She didn’t know much about Mr. Aku, still what she did know wasn’t too pleasant. Jessica sometimes mentioned how much he shouted at Anointed, and hit her. She said he wasn’t a bad father; nevertheless, he was extremely strict, the rule by fear type of parent. His parenting techniques had never been more evident than they were today. Every ten seconds, Anointed’s eyes glanced over to him, and if he as much as twitched or moved to scratch an itch, she flinched.

He’s been beating her, beating her all night.

No one thinks so, or is saying you did, my love, said Avery. I’ve known you since you and Jess met in the nursery. You’ve played with Jess in my home, and I’ve babysat you both. I know how much you love Jess and would never hurt her.

Anointed’s eyes lit up with teary-eyed hope.

I do, she said. I do love Jess. She quickly glanced at her father. She’s my best friend… She fiddled with the end of her pyjama shirt. Louis is Maxwell’s friend really… So, Jessica is all I’ve got.

Christopher snorted and muttered. Anointed looked at him.

Daddy?

Continue, he said. The Aku’s had a combined living room and dining. He sat alongside the dining table on one of the chairs, elbows on knees, bearded chin resting in palms, glaring at them with furrowed brows. Just continue, he muttered. Anointed… it’s okay.

Avery cleared her throat and refocused her attention on Anointed. She wasn’t certain she’d have much time left to talk. Christopher looked as though he was waiting with bated breath for an excuse to throw her out.

I’m here because I know you’re the only one I can trust to tell the truth, she moved closer and took Anointed’s hands into hers. I’m not here to accuse you of any wrongdoing.

Anointed nodded.

Thank you, Ms. Avery.

You’re more than welcome dear.

Avery hugged her.

Anointed held onto her incredibly tight, as though if she let go something terrible would happen to her. Avery listened to the rapid beating of her heart, and rubbed her back as she broke down into a flood of tears.

I’m so frightened… I don’t know what happened to her. She let go and stared deep into Avery’s eyes. How can she just disappear? She didn’t take her phone, bag or even a wallet - nothing... I genuinely believed her when she said she went to use the toilet. She shrugged, I mean, where else could she go? The church isn’t that big…

It’s okay, said Avery. What actually took place is a mystery to us all. These are very sad times.

Yea...they are.

But anything you can tell me will be of immense help. Avery straightened herself up. Now, what time did you get to church, and who was there when you arrived?

Anointed took a deep breath and began. Practice was scheduled at the usual time - 6:30 P.M. Jess and I arrived a little early like we usually do around 6:15 PM… She paused in thought. One thing that caught my eye before we even entered the church was the car parked at the front. I remember because it was a fancy car, not the type I usually see.

Avery was intrigued, she leaned towards her.

What type of car was it dear, do you know?

Anointed paused, placed the tip of a finger in her mouth and nibbled on it. Suddenly, her eyes lit up. Yes, it was a Rolls Royce - a black Rolls Royce! She smiled. I’m not good with cars, but I know that one. It has a very distinctive statue thing on the front.

Do you know who the car belonged to - the Pastor perhaps?

She shook her head.

Hmm, I’m not sure. We have a few senior pastors - it’s a big church. Neither of the senior pastors drives cars that fancy, but Damon, Bishop Cole’s son, drives a lot of fancy cars... I didn’t see him at church though. But the first-floor lights were on, meaning someone was in the office, and whoever was upstairs never came to the auditorium. Even when we started looking for Jess.

Okay, so it could be one of the Bishop’s son’s cars, perhaps?

Anointed’s mouth made a hissing sound as she sucked on her front teeth.

...Honestly, I don’t think so, just because… She placed four fingers in her mouth momentarily, glanced to her father, flinched, looked to Avery and withdrew the fingers. I think I’ve seen that car before, or at least heard about it... The boys talk about it a lot, Maxwell and others. She scratched her head, moving her braids about as she did so. I might be wrong… it could be the wrong car, she mumbled. But I don’t think so. She looked at Avery resolute in the answer she was about to provide. There’s only one person who drives a car identical to the Rolls Royce I saw. However, he rarely comes to church… If he does, it’s only once in a while, usually on a Sunday. I -

Excuse me, Ms. Avery, said Christopher. He stood up and approached them. I’m very sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave... My daughter has had a very rough few hours. I expect the police will be here to interview her shortly - if Jessica isn’t found in a few hours.

Anointed looked at her father wide-eyed as though she wanted to object, yet knew better than to do so. Avery didn’t argue. She rose to her feet.

Absolutely Mr. Aku, she gave the most courteous of smiles. I understand. She picked up her handbag. I’ll take my leave immediately. She turned to Anointed and smiled. Please try and get some rest dear.

***

The door closed firmly behind Avery; she headed out of the white gate, went in the direction of the bus stop on Murphy Road, walked the length of three houses, stopped, waited two minutes, then headed back to number 25.

The curtains were closed. There was no sign of Mr. Aku. Avery stroked the top of the gate, felt for the latch, opened it swiftly, entered the Aku’s front garden, and closed the gate behind her in a similar manner to which she’d opened it. She checked to see if she was being observed - the street was quiet - headed to the front door, and pressed her ear against it.

Avery smiled, they were arguing.

Why didn’t you tell me about the black Rolls Royce? Said Christopher.

I forgot, said Anointed. ...Dad you were putting so much pressure on me, and shaking me.

SHUT UP YOUR MOUTH... Look from now on, you keep your mouth shut. CLOSE IT. Never mention that car again. Even if someone else says they saw it, that person must never be you.

Dad, what’s the matter?... I just want to help find Jess. She’s my best friend… I know who owns the car dad. What if he took her? It’s that man, Mr -

Anointed screamed.

Her father had slapped her.

KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! .... Or do you want to be next?

Avery had heard all she needed to know, hastily she made her way out of the Aku’s front garden.

Chapter 3

Davey’s Cafe was Avery’s favourite, while he was alive she and Arthur visited it once or twice a week for lunch. She still visited, but less than she did when Arthur was alive. Going for lunch at the cafe was a reason to leave the house, and an opportunity to spend time in a place bursting with fond memories. The café’s owner, Mr. Christopoulos, known as Frankie by his friends, was a lovely man and a close acquaintance. She’d brought Jessica countless times; Frankie jokingly referred to Jessica as Avery’s daughter. Frankie wasn’t around much these days; retired, he spent the majority of his time in Cyprus. Although whenever he was around and saw Avery, he’d ask, How’s your daughter? They’d share a laugh, followed by a friendly smile - the sort of smile long-time friends shared, and Avery would reply, My daughter is doing swimmingly. She struggled to imagine a future where ‘doing swimmingly’ would be replaced with ‘dead’; and struggled even more to imagine a future where Frankie stopped asking after Jessica, because he knew she was no more.

What a cruel world we live in. What an injustice it would be if I outlived my Jess.

Avery didn’t want to imagine such a world, a world without her pretend daughter, as Jessica fondly referred to herself. She held a myriad of high hopes for Jessica: Sixth Form College, university, marriage, and so much more - the list was endless. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain Grace was going through.

One black coffee, said Lydia. She set the mug and saucer before Avery and smiled.

Thank you, dear.

Is everything OK, Ms. Spencer? She’d known Avery all her life - one of her father’s longest customers. Lydia had never seen her look so worried.

Avery smiled.

Yes and no... My neighbour’s daughter is missing.

Jessica, the young girl who comes here with you sometimes? Lydia hoped she was mistaken.

Yes, my lovely Jess.

When did she go missing?

Last night, at church. Her parents attend a local pentecostal. Avery pointed out of the nearest window to the road at the bottom of the High Street. It’s the second road off that one, she said. Not too far from here. Jess is in the choir and went with a friend for a specially arranged practice session. They have a duet schedule for this Sunday’s service.

Oh, dear, that’s terrible. If it’s any consolation, the answer to where she is will usually be in the last place she was before she went missing... It always is. She patted Avery lovingly on the shoulder. Don’t worry about paying for the coffee. It’s on the house - least I can do.

Oh, thank you dear. You’re so kind.

Don’t mention it Ms. Spencer. You’re literally family.

Avery watched Lydia as she went and tended to the other tables. She was right, the answer to Jessica’s whereabouts is in the last place she was seen.

Right Avery, Off to the church it is.

***

The Christ Apostolic Mission UK Headquarters sat on a reasonably sized plot of land on Ridgeworth Road, enclosed by mesh iron fencing. The ground was gravelled, making it near impossible for Avery to move about the premises stealthily. The architectural design of the church wasn’t similar to what she was used to: there was no steeple, no stained glass windows, no wooden porch, no arch, or large solid wood entrance doors. There was nothing that reminded her of the many times she’d spent in church as a child, or as a young woman. She still attended church services, but only on special occasions. Both her husband and son had been buried at St. Peter’s - the local Anglican church.

St. Peter’s and its grounds held a lot of sad memories for her - even the good times such as her wedding day, and Bertie’s baptism and confirmation brought tears to her eyes when she recalled them. As the only surviving member of her family, even the good memories had become turned sour. For now she longed for them, but knew they could never be re-lived. Hence, she restricted such sadness to special religious occasions and seasons, like Lent, Easter, and Christmas. Despite the building’s lack of stereotypical church features, being on its reminded her of how she’d become negligent in her religious duties, and filled her with guilt. Maybe it was time to pay Reverend Morris a visit? He was nearing retirement; a catch-up would be nice, perhaps?

There was a total of three vehicles parked in the churchyard: a white van, a shiny new looking black Range Rover, and a Volkswagen Golf - which appeared to have seen better days. The Golf was parked alongside the Range, which made it look older than it would if it were parked further away. She approached the one-storey building, with her eyes fixed on the large sign covering the front of the church: CHRIST APOSTOLIC MISSION DAGENHAM BRANCH - FOUNTAIN OF BLESSINGS & MIRACLES. UK HEADQUARTERS. She chuckled, fountain of blessings and miracles, was quite a bold statement to make so publicly - were disappearing teenagers a part of the church’s repertoire of miracles?

Avery peered through one panes of glass on the large white front double doors. She couldn’t see much - the glass was opaque. However, she could tell the lights were on in the hallway, and was able to make what seemed to be three figures: