The Stone Circle: The Dr Ruth Galloway Mysteries 11

by Elly Griffiths

  And Ruth finds herself agreeing to go to the stone circle.

  *

  The briefing is a rather tense affair. They all know that time is running out. The search parties have found nothing and the press are camping outside the police station. Jo Archer keeps reminding Nelson that the eyes of the world are on them which, even if not strictly true, doesn’t help with the stress levels.

  ‘It’s such a narrow window of opportunity,’ says Nelson. ‘Star went into the house at six forty-five, Ava was gone by eight. Someone entered the house, probably with a key – there’s no sign of forced entry – took Ava and the milk and left. It must have been someone who knew the place well. Is there anything from the neighbours? Any CCTV?’

  ‘No.’ Judy is flipping through the reports. ‘Nobody saw anything unusual and none of the houses have CCTV. It was a dark evening. Probably everyone was inside watching TV.’

  ‘What about Luke?’ says Nelson. ‘He’s still our best bet. He could have waited in the car and come back when Star was asleep.’

  ‘But where would he put her?’ says Tanya, managing to make it sound as if Ava were an inconveniently shaped parcel. ‘He’s staying in a hotel.’

  ‘Bradley – Karen and Pete’s son – thought that Star might be making it up,’ says Clough. ‘Is it worth following up that line of enquiry? Could Star just want to be the centre of attention? A bit like what’s-it-called . . . Munchausen’s.’

  Nelson is impressed that Clough has remembered the name of the syndrome where a person invents medical symptoms in order to gain sympathy and attention. He turns to Judy. ‘What did you think of Star? Is this possible?’

  ‘It’s called Facititious Disorder now,’ says Judy. ‘I suppose it’s possible. After all, yesterday was all about Margaret, not Star. She might want to be back in the limelight. But I could swear that she’s genuine. And Star’s been a devoted mother up until now. I spoke to her health visitor.’

  ‘Michelle said the same,’ says Nelson. ‘She said that Star seemed to really enjoy being a mum. What about the dad? Ryan? Any luck there?’

  ‘He’s in the States,’ says Judy, ‘working at Camp America. I saw his parents. They seemed very shocked. They knew about Ava but I don’t think they’ve seen her yet. I got the impression that they don’t want to be involved. What about possible boyfriends? Did you contact Leif Anderssen?’

  ‘I called round but he wasn’t in,’ says Nelson. ‘I left a message for him to come into the station later.’

  ‘The archaeologist bloke?’ says Clough. ‘Could there be a link there?’

  ‘It’s a coincidence,’ says Nelson, ‘and I don’t like coincidences. But it’s hard to see why Leif would snatch Ava. And, like Fuller said earlier, where would he be keeping her?’

  ‘What about Star’s mother, Annie?’ says Judy. ‘She seemed really distressed today. Could she know something?’

  ‘Karen said that Annie was a difficult character,’ says Clough. ‘And Pete, her stepfather, said the same. He spent a lot of time with Annie and Luke at the weekend apparently. On his allotment.’

  ‘Pete has an allotment?’ says Judy.

  ‘Yes,’ says Clough. ‘Why? Lots of people do.’

  Judy is flipping through her notebook. ‘When we went to see Karen and Pete to ask about Scarning Fen, did either of them say that they had links to the area?’

  ‘No,’ says Clough. ‘What are you getting at?’

  ‘When I interviewed Steve and Alison Jennings, Kim’s parents, they said that Pete used to live “out Swaffham way”. I made a note. Look.’ She pushes the page, filled with her small, neat handwriting, towards Clough. ‘Swaffham’s near Scarning Fen. Why didn’t Pete say that when we asked him? And he’s got an allotment. What if he had an allotment when he lived in Swaffham?’

  ‘And you think he killed Margaret and buried her in his allotment?’ Clough’s voice is rising.

  ‘Well, it’s possible,’ says Judy, rather defensively. ‘Pete knew Karen when Margaret went missing, the two families were friends.’

  ‘He killed her daughter and then married the mother?’

  ‘It is possible,’ Nelson cuts in. ‘And the Swaffham link is interesting, especially the fact that Pete Benson didn’t mention it when interviewed. But now our focus has to be on Ava. She’s been missing for almost twenty-four hours now.’

  He doesn’t turn to look at the clock but everyone is conscious of the second hand moving towards six.

  Chapter 29

  Nelson almost doesn’t expect Leif to obey his summons but, when he comes out of the briefing, he is told that he has a visitor in the interview suite. He’s grateful to Tom Henty for putting Leif into this room because it has a two-way mirror. He spends a few minutes observing Leif who is sitting, seemingly completely at ease, in one of the armchairs (this is a so-called ‘soft interviewing space’ which means that it has IKEA furniture and a plastic fern). Leif is leaning back, legs crossed at the ankle, staring at the ceiling. He isn’t checking his phone, as most people do now whenever they have an off-duty moment. He doesn’t look nervous or ill-at-ease even though he’s in a police station. He is smiling gently, hands relaxed on the chair’s chintz arms. Leif is taller than his father and more heavily built. Nelson supposes that he’s good-looking, although that long hair is ridiculous and his eyes are too pale and he doesn’t blink enough. Still, he is pretty sure that his daughters would say that Leif is ‘fit’. Well, one of his daughters clearly does think so. He pushes open the door.

  ‘DCI Nelson.’ Leif smiles in apparent delight but doesn’t get up.

  ‘Good of you to come in,’ says Nelson, not smiling back.

  ‘Laura passed on your message,’ says Leif. ‘It sounded urgent.’

  Nelson grinds his teeth at the mention of his daughter.

  ‘It is urgent,’ he says, taking the armchair beside Leif’s and moving it back slightly. ‘We’re conducting an inquiry into a missing child. I’m sure you’ve seen it on the news.’

  ‘I don’t follow the news,’ says Leif. ‘I try to keep myself free from negative influences.’

  ‘Bully for you,’ says Nelson. ‘I’m a policeman and negative stuff is my job. I believe that Star Simmonds is a friend of yours.’

  ‘I know her a little,’ says Leif. Is it Nelson’s imagination or does the Vedic calm seem to falter slightly?

  ‘Well, it’s her child that has gone missing. Ava was snatched from Star’s parents’ house yesterday evening.’

  ‘Laura told me,’ says Leif. ‘Poor Star. How terrible. Do you have any idea who could have done it?’

  Nelson ignores this. ‘Your name has come up as a possible boyfriend of Star’s,’ he says. ‘And we need to check out all her close associates. Can you tell me how you met her?’

  ‘I went to see Cathbad after his meditation class,’ says Leif. ‘I wanted to talk to him about my dad. I’m working through my relationship with Erik and I knew that he and Cathbad were close. Star was there, asking Cathbad some questions about meditation. I was impressed with her open mind.’

  I bet you were, thinks Nelson. ‘This must have been just after Ava was born,’ he says. ‘After all, she’s only twenty-three days old.’ Once again, the number comes automatically.

  ‘Yes, I was impressed with that too. The fact that she was going to classes so soon after having a child.’

  ‘So you found Star impressive,’ says Nelson. ‘Did you go out with her?’

  ‘Once or twice. Just for coffee and a chat.’

  ‘Did you ever meet Ava?’

  ‘She had the baby with her, of course. She had her in one of those . . . what’s the word? . . . baby slings.’

  ‘Did Star ever say that she was worried about anything? Anyone threatening Ava?’

  ‘No. She seemed delighted with the whole experience of motherhood.’ This is pretty much what Michelle said, but without Leif’s smug expression. Nelson wonders whether Leif’s amorous intentions were thwarted by the presence of the baby
in the sling. Maybe that’s why Leif moved on to Laura. Be careful, he tells himself. Hitting a member of the public is never a good idea.

  ‘When are you going back to Norway?’ he asks.

  ‘At the end of the month,’ says Leif. ‘The dig should be finished by then. We’ve had some very interesting results from the bones in the cist. They’re the remains of a young girl. I’m hoping to commission a facial reconstruction.’

  Nelson is rather shaken by the fact that another young girl was buried in the circle on the beach. But Leif just looks, if anything, even more pleased with himself.

  ‘Don’t leave the country without letting me know,’ says Nelson, standing up to show that the interview is over.

  ‘I won’t,’ says Leif. ‘Good luck with the search. I will pray to the goddess for Ava.’

  ‘Very kind of you,’ says Nelson. Then he leans in. ‘If you hurt my daughter,’ he says, ‘I’ll kill you. Understand?’

  *

  Nelson tells the team to get a good night’s sleep. ‘There’s nothing more we can do today. The search teams will keep going all night. I need you all back here tomorrow in top form.’ Judy considers staying at work until the kids are in bed. All that bath, story, bedtime romping is so exhausting. But she also longs to see her children, to hold them tight and feel their solid little bodies against hers. The memories, the ones that have been hovering ever since she heard that Ava was missing, are threatening to engulf her. That terrible moment when her childminder turned to her and said, ‘He’s gone . . . Your friend came to pick him up . . .’ The dark days afterwards, the waiting, the dreadful draining away of hope. Cathbad had saved her then. The least she can do is be at home for bath time.

  She gets back to find a cosy domestic scene. Cathbad cooking vegetarian spaghetti carbonara and three of his children sitting at the kitchen table: Michael, Miranda and Maddie. Thing is watching hungrily from under the table.

  ‘Hi, Judy,’ says Maddie. ‘Just in time. Dad’s such a good cook.’

  ‘Maddie’s here,’ says Miranda, gazing adoringly at her half-sister.

  ‘So I see,’ says Judy, searching in the fridge for wine. She suspects Maddie’s motives for this visit and doesn’t want to spend the entire evening avoiding the subjects of Ava or Margaret. Also, it’s very rare for Maddie to call Cathbad ‘Dad’.

  Judy splashes wine in two glasses and passes one to Cathbad.

  ‘Tough day?’ he says, beating eggs.

  ‘Yes,’ says Judy. ‘I’ll tell you about it later.’

  ‘We’re going to Granny and Granddad’s tomorrow,’ says Michael who, as ever, is watching Judy intently.

  ‘Are you?’ says Judy, taking a gulp of native Norfolk Winbirri white. ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m going to Somerset with Ruth and Leif Anderssen,’ says Cathbad. ‘Apparently Erik wrote a letter to Leif before he died. In it he said that he wanted us all to meet at a stone circle called Stanton Drew. Leif wants us to go tomorrow. I asked your mum and dad if they would pick up the kids. They were delighted. They’ll take Thing too.’

  Judy bets they were thrilled to be asked. Her parents live locally and are devoted grandparents. Even so, she feels slightly aggrieved that Cathbad hadn’t mentioned his plans to her.

  ‘I only decided today,’ says Cathbad, reading her mind. ‘I thought you’d be busy at work.’

  ‘It’s pretty frantic,’ says Judy. ‘Ava’s still missing.’

  ‘Have you got any leads?’ asks Maddie, turning in her chair. ‘Can I have some wine?’

  ‘Sorry,’ says Judy. ‘I forgot you were grown-up.’

  Miranda laughs delightedly.

  Cathbad serves the pasta, getting all that last-minute egg and cheese stuff just right. There’s an appreciative silence at the table as people eat, some more successfully than others. Cathbad, who has lived in Italy, twirls like a native, Michael cuts his up and Miranda makes slurping sounds that are only just permissible in one under five. Thing takes up his position beside Miranda, licking his lips.

  ‘How are you getting on with the Margaret Lacey case?’ asks Maddie, putting a tiny piece of pasta into her mouth. Judy never thinks that she eats enough.

  ‘The missing child is taking precedence,’ says Judy.

  ‘Aren’t they linked?’ says Maddie, eyes wide. ‘After all, Ava is Margaret’s great-niece.’

  Judy has never thought about the relationship in this way before.

  Chapter 30

  It’s only when Ruth sees the jeep-like Honda that she realises that Cathbad is driving. She had assumed somehow that Leif would be at the wheel but, come to think of it, she has only ever seen him on a bike. She always feels that Cathbad, too, is more comfortable on two wheels, better still on two feet. He’s a dreamy and erratic driver. Judy, on the other hand, loves cars and always drives when the family are together. The Honda is the family car. Judy must have taken the sportier Fiat to work.

  Ruth has already dropped Kate at her childminder’s house. Sandra will take her to school. Cathbad must have picked up Leif on his way home from the school run. Ruth is waiting for them and comes straight out of the house. Leif gets out of the car, all the same.

  ‘So this is the famous cottage,’ he says. ‘What a stunning situation.’

  Actually, it’s a grey and misty day, the marshes and the sea lost in a hazy, mutable light. There’s something about Leif’s tone that Ruth doesn’t quite like. Why is her home ‘famous’ to him? She remembers the last time that Erik visited her, the mad chase across the dangerous no-man’s-land, a chase that ended in death.

  ‘It’s better when you can see the view,’ she says, opening the back door.

  ‘Would you prefer to sit in the front?’ asks Leif.

  ‘No, this is fine.’

  At least, in the back, she won’t have her foot clamped on a phantom brake.

  There’s actually something quite pleasant about sitting in the back. It’s like being a child again, the fields and houses sliding past, the sense of being taken rather than being in charge of the journey. She has to resist the temptation to ask if they are there yet. Cathbad and Leif are talking about stone circles, ritual and sacrifice, the cycle of the seasons, the need for state funding of archaeological digs. Ruth closes her eyes.

  It’s a long journey though. Right across England, from coast to coast. ‘Just think of the journey from Wales to Stonehenge,’ says Cathbad helpfully, ‘and we’re not dragging massive megaliths behind us.’ Ruth knows that the so-called Stonehenge bluestones were transported from Wales to Wiltshire and, whilst this was undoubtedly an impressive and mysterious achievement, she doesn’t feel like discussing Neolithic building methods now. She feels tired and slightly sick, possibly the effects of Cathbad’s motorway driving.

  They stop for coffee and sandwiches on the M42 near Birmingham. Ruth feels slightly revived and texts Shona: ‘On an adventure with Cathbad. Scary!’ Leif, unable to find food pure enough for him in a motorway service station, is drinking what he says is pea protein from a flask. Cathbad eats an M&S sandwich with apparent relish. Ruth remembers a trip to Blackpool with Cathbad and Kate, six years ago. They stopped at Preston Services and Kate had wanted to ride on the Thomas the Tank Engine machine over and over again. The maddening theme tune comes back to her now and the memory makes her smile even though the holiday itself had been at best stressful and, at worst, terrifying.

  Cathbad is telling Ruth an alternative Stanton Drew story. ‘It’s said to be impossible to count the stones,’ he says, ‘because they’re of the devil’s number. Or else no number at all. If you succeed, you drop down dead. Stone dead.’ He grins and takes a swig of mineral water.

  ‘Well it is a big site,’ says Ruth. ‘Bigger than Stonehenge and only slightly smaller than Avebury. Between twenty-five and thirty stones, I read.’

  ‘You see,’ says Cathbad. ‘No one knows the exact number.’

  It is quite exciting as they get nearer the site, the first glimpse of the sea, the picture-perfect vill
ages, the sudden sighting of a lichened stone looming over a thatched roof. They park by the church and follow the signs ‘to the stones’.

  The day is still grey and overcast. The stones, when they appear, seem sullen and menacing. They are oddly shaped, bulging as if with some secret stone pregnancy, some upright, some recumbent. It’s hard to get a sense of a circle, or even of a pattern. ‘It used to be thought that the number and positioning of the stones corresponded to the Pythagorean planetary system,’ says Cathbad. ‘The three circles correspond to the solar, lunar and earth cycles.’

  ‘I thought you said it was impossible to count them,’ says Ruth. ‘And there’s no sun today.’ She is finding Cathbad rather irritating; he has donned his purple cloak and frequently pauses – head up, eyes closed – to ‘absorb the energy of the place’. Leif is walking on ahead. He seems preoccupied, constantly checking his phone, more like a bored teenager than a spiritual seeker after truth.

  The English Heritage site described the largest collection of stones as The Great Circle but, even when you are standing in the centre, it’s still hard to see the shape. You probably need to see it from above, thinks Ruth, which gives rise to one of the many unanswered questions about stone circles: how did prehistoric builders manage to create a design that was best appreciated from the air? If you discount the alien theory – which Ruth does – then you are left with Cathbad’s planetary system, which is unsatisfactory in its own way. Henges are also sometimes called stone gallows. The theory is that the stones form some sort of portal, either for use in some ancient ritual or, for the more fancifully inclined, a gateway between life and death. It’s said that if you pass through the gateway, on the right hour of the right day, then you will see death itself.

  Cathbad now has his hand on one of the stones and his face to the sky. Ruth reaches out to touch one of the megaliths. It’s scratchy with lichen but oddly warm, a disconcerting sensation given the coldness of the day. Ruth snatches her hand away and, when she turns around, she has the oddest feeling that the stones have moved closer. A mist has blown in from the sea and she can’t see Cathbad or Leif. For a moment it feels as if she’s completely alone, at the centre of the circle, watched by its silent guardians.