‘Why?’ asked Evi. Are you going to offer me your coat?’ Harry carried on staring straight ahead. ‘I’ll share it,’ he offered. Evi waited for him to turn towards her, to grin. He didn’t move.
‘You look tired,’ she said, although the truth was he didn’t just look tired. He looked thinner, older. The man she’d met in the hospital that morning hadn’t been the Harry she knew. Someone else had taken his place. Someone else was still there.
‘Yeah, well, I spent the first half of the night thinking about you,’ he said, still keeping his eyes fixed on the building across the street. ‘Then I got a phone call.’
Evi knew from the empty feeling in her stomach that it must be the middle of the day, but the sun hadn’t made it through the mist yet. So high on the moor, she could almost feel it, cold and clammy, stealing its way into her lungs.
‘I really need to see how Gillian is doing,’ she said, knowing the last thing she wanted to do was to go back into that flat. She pushed herself forward on the bench and looked down the hill. ‘Walk me to my car?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he said, leaning back against the wall, folding his arms.
‘No?’ Last night he’d kissed her, danced with her; now he couldn’t even be polite?
‘You need to take five minutes,’ he said, turning to look at her at last. ‘We both do. A tiny spot of reflection in a very unusual day.’
‘You’re not going to get all vicary on me, are you?’ risked Evi. ‘If you make me bow my head I’ll start giggling.’
‘How your patients take you seriously is beyond me.’ At least he was smiling again, she was getting through to him.
Movement down the hill caught her eye. She raised her head to look over Harry’s shoulder just as he turned. Alice’s car was reversing out of the driveway. In the back seat, a small face was watching them. A hand waved. Then the car began moving forwards, past the police cordon and down the hill. Rushton and DI Neasden climbed into a dark-blue estate car and set off after the Fletchers.
‘Will Millie be OK?’ asked Harry.
‘I’m sure she will,’ said Evi quickly. ‘The redness around her eyes and nostrils won’t last much beyond today. She might be a bit tired and grumpy for a couple of days, at worst.’
‘Will they find traces of ether in her bloodstream?’ asked Harry.
‘Almost certainly,’ said Evi.
Someone else was emerging from the Fletchers’ house. Hannah Wilson, the blonde social worker.
‘Miss Pissy down there was talking about something called an Emergency Protection Order,’ he said. ‘Do we need to worry?’
‘I’ll phone her boss when I get back,’ said Evi. ‘Make sure I’m kept informed about any applications to the court. Good job keeping your eyes away from her cleavage, by the way.’
‘Blondes don’t do it for me. Will you oppose one?’
Evi thought for a moment as Hannah Wilson climbed into a small red hatchback and drove away. ‘If I think it necessary, Harry, I’ll apply for one myself,’ she said. ‘No, don’t fly off the handle. Those children are at risk. Given the events of last night, I don’t think anyone can doubt that any more.’
‘But snatching them away from their mum and dad will—’
‘An EPO doesn’t mean taking them away from their parents, it just gives the local authority power to keep them from harm. Gareth Fletcher has parents living close by, is that right?’
Harry nodded. ‘I think so,’ he said. ‘In Burnley.’
‘Well, then a magistrate might decide that the children should go and stay with their grandparents for a while, with Alice and Gareth’s full consent and cooperation, of course.’
‘For how long?’
She shook her head. ‘Impossible to say. EPOs usually only last a few days but they’re often followed by a longer-term care order. Oh, stop glaring at me. I have never believed the children’s parents are part of the problem. But there is a problem.’
‘Rushton is going to have officers watching the house,’ said Harry.
‘And how long will that last? He won’t have the manpower to watch them indefinitely. And even if those children in the graveyard do turn out to have been murdered, if there is a psychopath up here preying on little girls, they’ve still been dead for years. They’re not likely to find the person responsible all that quickly.’
Harry said nothing. She was right.
‘And while they carry on looking, the Fletcher children remain at risk.’
She was still right. Reluctantly, Harry gave a faint nod.
‘I had a good long chat with Tom just now,’ said Evi. ‘He’s finally started talking to me about this little girl of his.’
‘And…’
‘Well, I’m pretty certain he’s not lying. Someone has been frightening him and I think, maybe, what you said last night was right. Someone is playing a rather mean practical joke. Maybe dressing up in some sort of Hallowe’en costume. She tends to appear at night, so he never gets a particularly good look at her. A lot of the time, he says, he doesn’t actually see her properly. Just catches glimpses, hears her calling things to him.’
‘Does he think she put Millie on the church balcony back in September?’
‘Yes, he’s convinced she did.’
‘And he thinks she took Millie last night?’
She turned back. Was it her imagination or had Harry moved closer on the bench?
‘At first he did,’ she said. ‘But when we talked about it, he realized it couldn’t have been her. The intruder he describes is just nothing like the little girl – much taller, for one thing, and wearing very different clothes. Miss Pissy Knickers, as you like to call her, was smart enough to spot that whoever kicked Tom did it with a booted foot.’
‘I said nothing about knickers. I have no interest in Miss Pissy’s undergarments. What’s going on here is something to do with the church. I’m sure of it.’
‘The church?’
‘We know for a fact that one of those children – Lucy Pickup – died in the church. Millie Fletcher almost did. I’ll bet the other two did as well. They’re taken up to the gallery and dropped.’
Evi gave herself a moment to take that in. ‘Four little girls,’ she said. ‘Who would do such a thing?’
‘They’re dropped from the gallery and then their bodies are stored in the crypt. If Millie had fallen that night, if we hadn’t found her in time, she’d have been taken down there as well. That was probably the plan for Lucy, too, but Jenny found her very quickly.’
Evi felt a tickling sensation between her shoulder blades. She clutched both her upper arms to stop the shiver breaking out. ‘That’s quite a leap you’ve just made there, Vicar,’ she said.
‘You were a good Catholic girl once. Ever heard of the Incorruptibles?’
Evi thought for a second then shook her head. ‘Can’t say I have.’
‘I thought of it in the post-mortem, earlier. When I saw Megan and Hayley. Their bodies had been preserved. Hardly any decomposition at all.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘It’s a Catholic and Orthodox Christian belief that certain human bodies, typically those of very pious people, don’t decompose after death,’ said Harry. ‘Something supernatural, the work of the Holy Spirit, keeps them perfect. They become known as Incorruptible.’
‘Incorruptible in soul and in body?’ asked Evi.
He nodded. ‘It’s one of the signs that indicate a candidate for canonization,’ he went on. ‘I can give you countless examples. St Bernadette of Lourdes, Saint Pio, Saint Virginia Centurione, any number of popes.’
‘But from what you told me, mummification, which is basically what we’re talking about, occurs naturally.’
Harry gave a soft laugh. ‘Of course it does,’ he said. ‘I’m not trying to claim the work of the Holy Spirit in this case, far from it. It just got me thinking.’ He turned to face her. His eyes were bloodshot and there were lines on his forehead she hadn’t noticed before. ‘You see, if yo
u’re not taking the supernatural route,’ he continued, ‘you can argue that one of the reasons why so many members of the clergy, relatively speaking, have so-called incorruptible bodies is that their remains were stored in the places most likely to produce mummification – cold, dry church crypts with airtight stone coffins. Like the one almost directly below us.’
Evi couldn’t stop herself glancing down. ‘You’ve told Rushton this?’ she asked.
‘Yep. He’s sceptical at the moment, because the crypt was thoroughly searched in the days after Megan disappeared. But he’s going to have to go down there again now. If they look carefully enough, they’ll find traces.’
‘He’s going to want you on the force,’ said Evi, trying for a smile.
Harry was still looking at her. ‘I find him uncomfortably tactile,’ he said. ‘Always touching me on the shoulder or the arm. Do you think he fancies me?’
Evi gave a little shrug. ‘Can’t think of any reason why he wouldn’t,’ she said.
‘Good answer. Are you busy tonight?’
She made herself turn her face away. ‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘But …’
‘Why is there always a but?’ said Harry.
Evi turned back. ‘I can’t stop seeing Gillian right now,’ she said. ‘The timing is all wrong. And it doesn’t take a genius to see she’s nuts about you.’
‘And that’s my fault?’ He’d taken hold of her hand, was tugging at the glove. She could feel his fingers on her wrist. She tried to pull away, he held firm.
‘Maybe not,’ she said. ‘But whether it is or isn’t your fault, it’s still your problem. Cheer up, there’s probably a guideline you can refer to. Women have been falling for the curate for centuries.’ The glove was being peeled off her fingers. She caught her breath.
‘Never the right ones,’ he said, his hand closing around hers. ‘And what do you mean, maybe not?’
‘You have a great deal of charm, Vicar. I can’t believe you save it all for me.’
‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong. You – and Detective Chief Superintendent Rushton, of course.’ His index finger had slipped inside the sleeve of her jacket. ‘You have such soft skin,’ he muttered.
‘If that child they found last night does turn out to be Hayley,’ said Evi, taking hold of his hand and pulling it firmly away from hers, ‘I can’t begin to predict how Gillian will react. I can’t stop seeing her, not even …’
She stopped. It didn’t really need saying.
‘If the child they found last night does turn out to be Hayley,’ said Harry, leaning back on the bench again, ‘I’m going to have to bury her.’
60
9 November
‘YOU WERE RIGHT, REVEREND. THEY WERE KEPT IN THE crypt. In the third tomb along from the front. We found traces of hair and blood, from both of them. Other bodily fluids as well. Even a button.’
‘God rest their souls,’ replied Harry.
‘Quite.’ Rushton’s voice down the phone was unusually subdued. ‘Of course, we searched that tomb back when we were looking for Megan and it was empty then,’ he went on. ‘So she was obviously kept somewhere, possibly even in the killer’s own house, while we were searching, then moved after all the fuss died down.’
Harry looked at the clock. Six o’clock in the evening. Was there any point calling Evi? It was four days since she’d even bothered answering the phone.
‘We also found traces of blood in the main part of the church,’ continued Rushton. ‘What do you call it, the nave?’
Harry muttered something.
‘From just underneath the gallery. The stones had been washed clean but we dug some of the mortar out from in between them,’ Rushton was saying. ‘We managed to match it to both girls.’
‘And they’ve been confirmed as Megan and Hayley?’
Rushton sighed. ‘Aye. We got the results of the DNA tests a couple of days ago. Not that any of us really had any doubts. We’re still waiting to hear about the remains in the urn that was given to Gillian Royle. God help us if that’s another missing child.’
‘Quite,’ said Harry. ‘Any suspects?’
‘Several leads we’re following,’ replied Rushton.
Harry waited. ‘What about the effigy I found beneath the gallery?’ he asked when he realized Rushton was going nowhere further.
‘We’ve spoken to the family who made it,’ admitted the detective. ‘They say they went to find it on the night of the bonfire and couldn’t. Claim to have no idea how it could have got into the church. There are a couple of prints that don’t match anyone in the family so they could well be telling the truth. The sweater was Millie Fletcher’s, though, her mother identified it.’
‘Then how?’
‘Stolen from the washing line is our best guess. Wouldn’t have been difficult, that garden’s very accessible. I’ve increased police presence in the town for the next few weeks, we’ll be keeping a close eye on the house.’ He gave another deep sigh. ‘We’re talking to young Tom Fletcher and his psychiatrist about this little girl that seems to have been hanging around,’ he said. ‘We need to track her down.’
‘She must live in the town,’ said Harry. ‘It can’t be that hard.’ Rushton had been talking to Evi. Everyone got to see her but him.
‘Trouble is, young Tom’s imagination is on the powerful end of the spectrum. He talks about this girl as if she’s barely human. We can hardly do a house-to-house search for a monster in human form.’
‘Guess not.’
‘And we’ve identified the source of the footprint found in their garden that night. A wellington, as we thought, size eight, rubber soled, made in France. Unfortunately, several thousand pairs are imported every year and there are more than a dozen suppliers in the north-west alone. It’s going to take some time.’
As soon as he’d hung up, Harry tried to call Evi. He got her answer machine and left a message. Then he walked through his quiet house, opened the back door and went out into the garden. On a damp, moss-covered bench beneath a bare magnolia tree he sat down and tried to pray.
Part Four
Longest Night
61
17 December
‘FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH, VICAR, I THOUGHT THAT WAS better than the first one. Shorter. Less standing around in the wind.’
Harry turned to see that Tobias Renshaw had crept up on him through the mourners that were gathered in the large hall of the Renshaws’ house. It really wasn’t his day. After Lucy’s second interment, in a new grave, lower down the hill than her first, he’d raced back to the church, cassock flapping, to try and catch Evi before she disappeared – again – and had practically fallen over the gang of journalists lurking by the church door. He really wasn’t in the mood for this obnoxious old bugger. He made a point of looking round the room.
‘I’m not sure Mike is back from the graveside yet,’ he said. ‘I might pop out and look for him. He seems to be taking this quite hard.’
‘Who?’ asked Tobias. ‘Oh, Jenny’s husband. Never really took to him. Always struck me as being on the make. Still, she seems happy enough. How’s the lovely Alice and her charming daughter? I saw them in church just now. Haven’t they come back?’
‘Detective Chief Superintendent,’ said Harry in relief as Rushton appeared behind Tobias. ‘Good to see you.’
‘All right, lad.’ Rushton nodded at him then turned to the older man. ‘Mr R.,’ he said. ‘My condolences.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Tobias. ‘Can I get anyone a drink? You’d think there’d be a hardship fund, wouldn’t you, for when a second funeral becomes necessary?’ Harry and Rushton watched the old man walk away towards a drinks table.
‘He’s harmless enough,’ said Rushton in a low voice.
‘If you say so,’ said Harry, without the energy even to try to hide his feelings. ‘I’ll tell you what puzzles me, though.’
‘What’s that, lad?’
‘Doesn’t everything round here – the land, the farms, all the prope
rty – doesn’t it belong to Tobias? He’s the oldest Renshaw, after all. Yet Sinclair always seems to be completely in charge.’
‘It was all made over to Sinclair a few years ago,’ replied Rushton. ‘From what I can remember, Tobias was ready to retire and Sinclair wouldn’t take over unless he was given a free rein.’
Harry could smell smoke and coffee on the other man’s breath. ‘He made his father sign over control?’ he asked.
‘Oh, that sounds worse than it was. It would all have come to Sinclair in the end. The property is – what do you call it? – entailed. The oldest male always inherits. Now then, I’m glad I’ve caught you. A quiet word, if I may.’
As Harry allowed himself to be gently propelled into a quiet corner of the old school room, he caught sight of Gillian watching them.
‘We’ve had the results of the latest DNA test,’ said Rushton quietly. He too had spotted Gillian. ‘You know, the one done on the burned remains Mrs Royle had in her kitchen cupboard? It took longer than we’d have liked, but anyway, it’s back now.’
‘And?’
‘Result. Perfect match to our friend Arthur.’
Harry sighed. There was a bottle of Irish whiskey on the drinks table but it wasn’t even midday and he had a busy afternoon. ‘So let me get this straight,’ he said. ‘The remains Gillian Royle had in her kitchen cupboard all this time were actually those of a seventy-year-old man called Arthur Seacroft who was originally buried next to Lucy.’
‘Well, strictly speaking, just the remains of part of his right leg,’ said Rushton. ‘The rest of him is still in the grave. Ah, thanks, love, very nice.’
Christiana Renshaw had approached, carrying a tray of sandwiches. Rushton helped himself to two. Harry shook his head, then waited until Christiana had moved away to the next group.
‘So someone dug up Arthur’s grave,’ he said, ‘helped themselves to one of his limbs, broke into Gillian’s house that night, abducted Hayley, left Arthur’s leg behind in her cot and then started the fire.’
Rushton chewed for a few seconds and swallowed. ‘You have to admire their nerve,’ he said. ‘Without some trace of charred human remains in the house, the firemen would have been suspicious. Finding nothing would have given credence to Gillian’s claims that her daughter didn’t die in the fire. There would have been a serious search. We’d have found them in the crypt. Arthur’s right leg put paid to all that. We didn’t look for Hayley. Another serious error for me to account for when I meet my maker.’
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