Jen followed her into the kitchen and looked out of the window at the moors and the distant hills while Elly filled the kettle.
“Well, what do you think?” Elly asked.
“It’s all right if you like that sort of thing, I suppose.”
“Bloody hell, Jen, what does it take to impress you?”
Jen frowned. “I’d rather see shops out of my window. This is all so”— she shrugged as if searching for the right word— “uncivilised.”
Elly shook her head in disbelief. “Right, you and I are going on a hike this afternoon. We’re going to get out there in the fresh air and see some natural beauty. Life isn’t just about shopping and hairstylists and cheese slices, you know.”
Jen peered dubiously at the sky. “It’s raining.”
“That’s not going to stop us. I’ve got plenty of waterproof clothing and a spare pair of boots you can borrow. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
Jen pursed her lips and frowned. Elly knew this was the face her sister made when she was trying to think of a way out of something. Right now, that something was going for a walk. Finally, Jen said, “Fine, we’ll go. I suppose it’d be a shame to come all this way and not see the natural beauty.” She accompanied the last two words with a roll of her eyes.
“Great,” Elly said, trying her best to ignore her sister’s snarky attitude. “And when we get back, I’ll make a lasagne and we can have it with some red wine.” She forced a smile onto her face.
“When you say you’ll make a lasagne, do you really mean you’ll make it or just put it in the microwave?”
Elly struggled to keep the smile on her face. She felt it slipping. “Microwave. Some of us work, Jen. We can’t spend all day cooking and being Mother of the Year.”
“Oh, that’s what you think, is it?” Jen said, whirling on her. “Well, let me tell you something. I’d rather spend my days cooking than searching for serial killers. You’ve got everyone worried sick. Before you go insulting me for trying to be a good mother, perhaps you should take a good look at yourself and your track record as a daughter.”
“I’m only living my life the way I want,” Elly argued.
“Well, so am I,” Jen retorted.
“All right,” Elly said, holding up her hands in surrender. “Point taken.” Elly wished they could put this discussion behind them but it was one they’d had many times before and would probably have many times in the future. Elly agreed that both she and Jen should be able to live their lives how they wanted. She didn’t want the lifestyle Jen led and Jen didn’t want the lifestyle she enjoyed. The difference was that Elly kept her nose out of Jen’s business but didn’t get the same courtesy in return.
Jen didn’t seem to want to end the discussion just yet. Her eyes still held the embers of smouldering anger. “It’s just that you always—”
“I’ll get the boots and walking gear,” Elly said, ignoring her. “If we leave now, we should be able to beat the thunderstorm that’s forecast for later.”
“Thunderstorm?” Jen’s expression shifted from anger to concern. “We can’t go out if there’s a storm coming.”
Elly laughed. She had no idea what the weather forecast was for later. There had been a storm last night but as far as she knew, there wasn’t one on its way today. She’d just wanted to wind her sister up.
Jen saw the look of mischief in her sister’s eyes and realised Elly was kidding. “Oh, right, very funny.” She began to laugh as well.
“You should have seen your face,” Elly said.
“Well, it’s hard to tell when you’re joking. You’re always so sombre.”
“Sombre? Really?” That took Elly by surprise. She’d always thought she was a fairly carefree person. Yes, she’d had some problems lately but she was generally happy, wasn’t she?
“Yes, really,” Jen said. “Come on, if we’re going to do this, let’s get going. We can have that cup of tea when we get back.”
“You’re eager—I like that,” Elly said, going into the dining room and getting the map off the table.
“Not eager, just desperate to get this over with.” Jen snatched the map off Elly. “And I’ll decide where we’re going, okay? If it was left up to you, we’d end up on a twenty-mile trek.”
“No,” Elly said. “I know where we’re going. And don’t worry; it isn’t a long walk at all. I’ll drive there and you can navigate. You do know how to read a map, don’t you?”
“Oh, please,” Jen protested. “If our time in Girl Scouts taught me anything, it was how to read a map.”
“And how to kiss a boy,” Elly said. “Do you remember that time we went camping in Wales and you hooked up with that local boy? What was his name?”
“Robby Jones,” Jen said. “Ugh, don’t remind me. And I didn’t hook up with him. It was just a friendly kiss goodnight.”
Elly laughed. “Okay, whatever you say. I’ll go get the stuff from the car.” She went outside and walked around Jen’s black SUV to get to her Mini. She found the spare boots and jacket in the boot and bundled them under her arm.
The rain had eased off and was now no more than a light drizzle. Last night, Windrider Cottage had earned its name. Elly had barely slept and had lain in bed listening to the gale buffet the cottage from all sides. Whoever had built the cottage had obviously predicted the kind of beating it would get from the weather and had used the strongest building materials available. This morning, there wasn’t so much as a roof tile out of place.
Elly went back inside, determined to have a good time with her sister despite her differences.
Jen had the map spread out on the kitchen counter and was inspecting it doubtfully. “Look, Elly, I don’t think I can manage a hike up a hill. I’m already exhausted just thinking about hiking.”
“No hills,” Elly promised. “We’re going to be walking across a moor. Nice flat terrain. And there’s a stone circle. We can just walk to that and then back to the car.”
“All right,” Jen said, “As long as it isn’t too far.”
Ten minutes later, they were both dressed in walking gear and in the Mini. When Elly started the engine, the radio came on. When she’d arrived in the Peak District, she’d tuned it to Peak FM, the local station. Now, she switched it off. She desperately wanted to hear the news in case there were any developments in the case of the body on Blackden Edge but she didn’t want Jen to hear about the body and get worried.
If Jen knew the serial killer was still at large, she’d probably refuse to leave the cottage until Elly returned to Birmingham with her.
“Can’t we have some music on?” Jen asked.
“You need to concentrate on the map.”
“I can multitask, you know.”
“Here, find some music on my phone. It’s Bluetooth.” She turned the stereo back on and hit the button that connected the stereo to her phone.
Jen eyed her suspiciously for a moment. But then she turned her attention to the phone and scrolled through the music.
Elly started the car and reversed onto the main road before heading south.
Jen looked up from the phone. “Elly, you do know there are albums which were recorded since the eighties, right?”
Elly shrugged. “I like what I like.”
Jen sighed. “Let’s put the radio on.” She reached forward and pushed the Radio button. Peak FM filled the car. Elly didn’t recognise the music. As Jen had pointed out, her musical tastes were stuck in the past. Jen seemed to recognise the song and sang along absent-mindedly as she checked the map on her lap.
The radio stations broadcasted the news every hour on the hour. According to the dashboard clock, there were still forty minutes to go until the next broadcast. As long as they got to Stanton Moor before then, the news wouldn’t be an issue. By the time it came on, they’d be walking on the moors and Jen would have no idea about the body that had been found a few miles north of here.
Elly felt as if she were in a bad sitcom, trying to hide the news from someone�
��with hilarious consequences. Except this was real life and there were no hilarious consequences, only guilt and dishonesty. And how long did she think she could hide something like this from her sister? The story had already hit the national news. Jen was bound to find out.
She took a deep breath and said, “Jen, there’s something I need to tell you. But you can’t let it worry you, okay? And no matter what you say, I’m staying here and finding out what happened to those girls.”
Jen gazed at her steadily for a moment before saying, “Do you mean the body the police found last night?”
“You know about that?”
“It was all over the radio when I was driving up here.”
“So why didn’t you mention it?”
“I wanted to see if you’d mention it first.”
Elly pursed her lips to stop herself from saying something driven by the aggravation she felt, something she’d later regret. She didn’t like being tested. Let it go, she told herself. You’re going to be nice to Jen even if it kills you.
“Don’t give me the silent treatment now,” Jen said.
“No, I’m fine,” Elly said, keeping her voice even. She nodded at the map. “You know where we are?”
“Of course. I told you—Girl Scout training.”
They arrived at the edge of Stanton Moor fifteen minutes later. An area of packed dirt by the side of the road served as the parking area. Elly guided the Mini onto it and killed the engine. The road was bordered by a high hedge but a gap had been cut to allow access to the moor. A path led through the moor and a signpost bore the legend: NINE LADIES STONE CIRCLE.
Elly peered at the gap in the hedge and wondered if a killer had carried the lifeless body of Lindsey Grofield through that gap eighteen years ago on a cold and dark New Year’s Eve. Or had Lindsey still been alive, forced to walk across the moors at knifepoint to the stone circle where she met her fate?
This was all speculation, of course. Just because the passage in the journal contained the capitalised word Ladies didn’t necessarily mean it referred to the Nine Ladies. The capital L might even be a mistake. Elly doubted that, though. The writer of the journal seemed to choose his words carefully. She couldn’t imagine him capitalising a word by mistake.
“Are we going to do this, then?” Jen asked with a sigh of resignation.
“Yes,” Elly said, trying to sound upbeat. The truth was, she didn’t know what she was going to do if she found a “grave of daisies” at the stone circle. Call the police? Tell Mitch to bring shovels? And even if there were daisies growing at the Nine Ladies, it didn’t really mean anything. Daisies grew everywhere.
She opened her door and got out, going to the back of the car to get her boots and jacket. Jen did the same. When they were dressed appropriately, Elly slung her camera around her neck and said, “Let’s go.”
They stepped through the gap in the hedge and began walking along the path that cut through the purple heather. The landscape was rugged and flat, dotted here and there with boulders. Elly could see a village in the distance but there was a feeling of isolation on the moor that was amplified by seeing how far away the closest buildings were. If Lindsey Grofield had screamed out here, no one would have heard her.
Stop being morbid, Elly told herself mentally.
They’d been trudging across the moor for ten minutes when Jen said, “Can we go back now? My feet hurt.”
“Jen, we haven’t even walked a mile yet. You can’t be tired already.”
“It’s these boots. They’re too tight.”
“No, they’re not. We’re both the same size. They fit perfectly. Come on, stop complaining. We can rest when we get to the stone circle.”
Jen rolled her eyes. “How much farther is it?”
“You see those birch trees up ahead? I think it’s in there.” The closer they got to the trees, the more anticipation Elly felt building up inside her. What if she was right about the journal entry and Lindsey Grofield really was buried there? The fact that she’d discovered one of the girls’ graves would be a huge selling point for the book. Glenister would never belittle her again.
But more importantly than that, Lindsey Grofield would finally be found after all these years. Her family would get some closure. She could be given a decent burial and laid to rest in a real grave, not some hole where her killer had dumped her. She deserved a proper headstone, not just a patch of daisies to mark her final resting place.
“I’m hungry,” Jen said.
Elly sighed. “It’s like hiking with a five-year-old.”
“Well, I can’t help it. I was on the road all morning and then you dragged me out here without a bite to eat.”
Elly stopped walking and took the keys to the Mini out of her jacket pocket. “Here are the car keys. If you want, you can go back and wait in the car. But I have to see the stone circle, okay? Now, are you coming or not?”
Jen hesitated. She glanced at the keys dangling from Elly’s fingers, then back along the path to the gap in the hedge. She narrowed her eyes and turned to Elly with a look of suspicion. “Why is the stone circle so important to you? Is it something to do with that serial killer?”
“Maybe,” Elly admitted. “I don’t know yet.”
Jen’s eyes widened again. “What is it? What’s up there?” She turned to examine at the trees in the distance.
“I think it’s possible that he may have buried one of his victims there.”
“Really?”
Elly nodded. “It’s just a theory.”
“Well, come on then, let’s find out.” Jen went marching along the path towards the trees.
Elly caught up with her. If she’d known getting Jen to the Nine Ladies easily was simply a case of involving her in the investigation, she’d have done it ages ago and saved herself a lot of frustration.
“What are we looking for?” Jen asked as they reached the tall birch trees. “Some kind of grave marker? A symbol etched on a tree trunk?” She sounded genuinely excited and seemed to have forgotten all about her hunger and tight boots.
“A grave of daisies,” Elly said.
“A grave of daisies? What does that mean?”
“I think he marked the grave with daisies.”
“But there are daisies everywhere,” Jen said, pointing out an abundance of daisies flourishing in the woods.
“The ones we’re looking for are within sight of the stone circle,” Elly said. “A grave of daisies in a glade watched over by the Ladies.”
Jen arched a quizzical eyebrow. “What does that mean?” A worried expression crossed her face. “Elly, has the killer been communicating with you?”
“No,” Elly said. “Not directly, anyway.” She couldn’t tell Jen about the journal because to do so would break the trust Mitch had placed in her. She saw the Nine Ladies ahead, a circle of stones standing in a clearing ringed by trees. Elly walked into the circle and scanned the surrounding area, searching for a grave of daisies. All she could see were trees and undergrowth. There were daisies in the woods, little white star clusters in the undergrowth, but there was nothing to discern one patch from another.
The Nine Ladies themselves were no more than hip-height and the stone circle was built on a low mound. The fact that these stones had been placed here before recorded history amazed Elly, but she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to dwell on it now. She had to know if Lindsey Grofield’s grave was here somewhere.
“Do you see anything?” Jen asked.
Elly continued scanning the woods. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she walked out of the circle along the circular edge of the woods, peering between the trees. Maybe you had to be at a certain vantage point to see the grave and unless she was standing in the right spot, she would miss it.
Or maybe there wasn’t a grave here at all.
Jen was exploring the woods as well now, winding her way between the trees and checking the ground in front of her every few steps.
I looked upon a grave of daisies
The verse sprang into Elly’s mind. She pushed it away, annoyed at its obscurity.
“Wait a minute,” she told Jen. “We’re looking for a glade. Trying to find the daisies themselves is too difficult but the ones we need to find are in a glade. Surely that will narrow things down a bit.” She couldn’t see any glades in the area she was exploring so she turned and examined the trees on the far side of the circle.
There was an area within the woods there that seemed to be brightly lit by the sun. Could it be a glade? She strode back over the Bronze Age mound and into the woods. Jen followed silently.
When Elly reached the trees, she could see the brightly lit area more clearly. It could be described as a glade even though it was no more than a circular clearing less than twenty feet in diameter. The sunlight shafted down onto long grass and a patch of daisies.
But this was no ordinary wild patch of daisies. The little flowers had been planted purposefully in an oblong shape that was a couple of feet wide and eight feet long. The exact dimensions of a grave. The shape was rough and would probably appear natural to a casual observer but to Elly, who was looking for it and knew the journal’s verse, there was no mistaking that this was the daisy grave.
“Oh, my God,” Elly whispered.
“This is it,” Jen said. “This has to be it.”
Elly’s mind began to race. What should she do next? Call the police? Call Mitch? The police would ask too many questions and Mitch wasn’t answering his phone. Deciding to try Mitch again anyway, she took her phone out of her pocket. No damned signal. Typical.
“Are you calling the police?” Jen asked.
“I’m not calling anyone. I haven’t got a signal.”
Jen checked her own phone. “Me either.” She stared at the grave of daisies. “Elly, who’s buried under there?”
“I think it’s a girl named Lindsey Grofield. She went missing on New Year’s Eve, 1999.”
“She’s been under there for eighteen years?”
Elly nodded. “Come on, we need to get back to the car. I’ll just get a couple of pictures and then we’re out of here.” She unslung the camera and took half a dozen shots of the daisies. Then she put the camera back around her neck and began retracing her steps through the woods to the path.
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