by Rebecca Bryn
Greg paced across the room, glared at her and Dad, and turned to face DC Flowers, fists clenched. ‘My mother had lost two babies to cot deaths, wrongly thought to be suspicious. Bethan had gone missing. I think they were anxious to get her put away for something, and they didn’t care what. Same as the police did.’
DC Flowers cheeks coloured. ‘I assure you, Mr Anderson, that’s being fully investigated, as will this be. Both your parents will be taken in for questioning, Miss Harper. They may well face a custodial sentence. And we’ll be re-interviewing all the remaining witnesses who testified at the original trial.’
‘And re-examining these recent deaths?’
He looked around the anxious faces in the room. ‘If we think that’s necessary. In the meantime, don’t anyone leave here without telling the police where they’re going and giving an address.’
The way DC Flowers looked at them unnerved her. ‘You can’t suspect Tony or Greg…’
‘People have been killed for a mobile phone and a handful of loose change. Everyone in this room has a motive greater than that for wanting Saffy, or those who perjured themselves, dead. The need for retribution, or erasing the past, can be a strong factor.’
Uneasy glances were exchanged: although she couldn’t bring herself to believe they were capable of such a thing, the officer was right. ‘This isn’t getting my daughter back. We should all be out there, looking, not raking over the past.’
‘We have a team of officers following every possible lead. They’ll be out all night, searching, checking and rechecking. We’ve widened the search area. There’ll be a public appeal on the television tonight. Do you feel up to taking part?’
‘If you think it will help.’
DC Flowers got to his feet. ‘I’ll arrange it and I’ll get a family liaison officer to keep you up to speed.’ He turned to Dad. ‘What’s your first name, Mr Harper?’
‘Derek.’
‘Derek Harper, I’m arresting you for conspiracy to pervert the cause of justice. Anything you say…’
This couldn’t be happening. ‘I’m sorry, Dad.’
‘Mr Harper, you may also face charges under the Child Abduction Act.’ DC Flowers produced handcuffs.
Dad held his wrists out. ‘It’s me who’s sorry, Alana. None of this is your fault. Greg, what we’ve done to your family. I’ll do anything it takes to try to put it right.’
Greg moved closer, shoving his face in Dad’s. ‘How do you put this right? My mother was wrongly convicted, my parent’s marriage destroyed. I grew up thinking they didn’t want me. You fucked with my mother’s mind… she spent thirty years in a mental institution…’ He stabbed a finger in Dad’s chest. ‘Thirty fucking years, because of you and your sick wife. Never mind what she did to her own sister… Alana will never know her parents.’
‘I’m so sorry. It’s no excuse, now, but Gweneth and the others, they did think they were doing the right thing at the time.’ He looked at Emma who was wiping her eyes. ‘Emma, I’ll tell the police everything, I promise. But not here.’
DC Flowers turned to her. ‘Your father will be questioned at the police station. Mr Maskell, Mr Anderson, I’ll need to speak to you later. I suggest you all try to get some rest, if you can. It’s going to be a long night.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
Alana lay on the sofa staring at the ceiling as if it were a blank canvas that she had no idea what to begin painting on. It had been the longest night of her life, lurching between despair and hope, and back to despair: there had been no point in going to bed, no point in trying to sleep. She’d seen televised appeals, but she’d never guessed how emotionally and physically draining they could be. The family liaison officer had come and gone. The house across the road was cordoned off as a possible crime scene. The police had taken away items in evidence bags and would be coming back in the morning to do a more exhaustive search.
She turned over. Tony sat in the chair opposite, head leant back, eyes closed. The police had questioned him for over an hour, about Mike and how he felt about Saffy. They’d been out until two in the morning, searching by torchlight. He looked pale and exhausted. She looked at her watch for the fifteenth time and sighed: it would soon be dawn.
Tony opened his eyes. ‘Can I get you anything?’
She shook her head. ‘I know the police are out there looking, but I can’t lie here any longer, doing nothing.’
‘It’ll be light soon.’
‘We could go out again with the torch.’
‘There’s not much battery power left, but it may be enough.’
She fetched their coats. Outside, the stench of burning filled the air. The grass on the green was rutted with the tracks of fire engines. The ring of joyful children mocked her as the light from the torch caught them. She crossed the green and stood in front of the cordoned-off building.
Tony stood beside her. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘There may be a clue in there. Something the police have missed.’ She ducked under the tape, Tony close behind her. The door had had boarding nailed across it. ‘There’s a crowbar in the shed.’
Tony went to fetch it. The nails screeched as he wrenched at the board. They climbed through the gap and shone the torch around the kitchen: the dim beam didn’t look like lasting very long. The worst damage seemed to be around the stairs, which had completely burned away. The kitchen floor was a black, muddy mess. Debris scattered across the floor.
She kicked at a small square piece and flipped it over. It had a pattern on it. She bent for a closer look. ‘This is Dagaz. Rhiannon knows about runes… Tony, it was her all along, putting the runes on the doors. It has to be.’
She shone the torch about and gathered together all the squares she could find among what had to be the remains of the kitchen table. They were all here, Mannaz, Ehwaz, Kaunaz, Jera, Nauthiz…
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Runes can used for divination. I asked Rhiannon about them. I was looking at the one on Mair’s front door, after the fire. She said all signs have meanings. Suppose she was using them, being influenced by them? Suppose she’s been getting revenge for what we did to her sister?’
‘You didn’t do anything.’
‘But Mum and Dad were part of the conspiracy.’
‘Suppose she’s as loopy as Nerys? It’s possible.’ Give me the torch a minute. He let the beam play across the walls and floor. ‘We should be careful what we touch. This is a crime scene.’ He stopped the beam at a pale oblong beneath what had been a telephone fixed to the wall. ‘I wonder what was here.’
‘Something the police have taken away.’
‘A book, maybe. It’s about the right size. Could be telephone numbers.’ He shrugged and shone the beam at the fire-blackened ceiling. ‘We can’t go upstairs without a ladder, and anyway the floors may not be safe.’
‘Twenty-three and a blank.’
‘Pardon?’
‘There should be twenty-four rune stones and a blank. Three aett’s and the wyrd stone. One’s missing.’
‘So?’
‘So, if it isn’t here, why not?’
Tony played the beam of light slowly and carefully across the floor. ‘I can’t see another. You think it could mean something?’
She gathered the stones together and thrust them into her pocket. ‘Let’s have a look in the living room.’
This room was smoke-damaged more than fire-damaged. The torch dimmed, leaving them in virtual darkness. ‘We’re disturbing evidence. We shouldn’t be in here. Let’s go.’
They picked their way over the debris and squeezed back through the gap between the board and the doorframe. Tony used the back of the crowbar to knock the boarding roughly back in place. Not that it wouldn’t be obvious from the pale footprints across the floor that two people had been inside.
Back at the cottage, she laid out the runes stones. Which one was missing? She fired up her laptop and found the page she’d bookmarked. Runes and divination. Tony’s b
reath was warm on her neck. Together they laid the signs out in the three Aett’s according to the web page.
Tony pointed. ‘That one. We don’t have that one.’
‘Sowilo.’ She scrolled to the description: Hagal… Heindall’s Aett. ‘The watcher… keeper of the rainbow bridge to the heavens.’ Cold fingers crept down her spine. ‘Keeper of the icy bridge to the underworld. Fate, look. It’s a tenet of the Calvinist religion.’ She waved a hand at the window. ‘And our chapel is Calvinist.’
‘You’re clutching at straws, now.’ Tony squeezed her shoulder. ‘Sowilo is all about the sun. It sounds like a positive rune.’
He was trying to bolster her hope. Her mind went back to the first time she’d found the runes. ‘There are runes carved into the standing stones up on the moor. I stood in the centre of Cerrig o’ Tyr and imagined the ancients worshipping the sun god. I tried to imagine their fear at mid-winter, seeing the sun getting lower and lower each day. They made sacrifices to their sun god.’
‘That was thousands of years ago. We know the sun always rises.’
Some of the marks had been fresh. Bones had been found there. The private investigator had mentioned blood on the centre slab. ‘Oh, God. I know where she is. Rhiannon and Nerys have taken Saffy to Cerrig o’ Tyr.’
‘I’ll call the police.’
‘Get the car keys. I’ll ring them on the way.’ Please, God, they weren’t too late. She ran to the front door. ‘Hurry, Tony, please. It’s almost dawn.’
Tony pushed the accelerator to the floor and screeched out of the village towards the moorland. ‘If Nerys’ mind is playing tricks on her, and she thinks she has Bethan, she won’t hurt Saffy.’
‘If she thinks she has Bethan, why did she run? It’s Rhiannon who’s calling the shots, and she isn’t deluded enough to think Bethan is still two years old. And she’s killed already, I’m certain of it.’ She thumbed the number DC Flowers had put into her mobile. ‘I know where Saffy is. Rhiannon and Nerys have her. We’re on our way to Cerrig o’ Tyr. Please hurry. If I’m right, Saffy’s in real danger, and we’re running out of time.’
‘A unit will be sent to the location. Please wait for them to arrive.’
Wait? They were joking. Her eyes strained through the darkness, following the twists and turns in the narrow road as Tony threw Minnie round the bends. A dull pink behind the hills heralded a dawn that would come too soon. She tried to picture the orientation of the stone circle and the hills that framed it, and where the sun would rise. If it rose behind the higher ground, dawn would come later and Saffy might stand a chance. If it rose over the sea they could already be too late.
***
Rhiannon shivered, huddled in a heather-filled hollow silver with a late frost. Her arms still ached from holding the child against her chest inside her coat. In the cold before dawn, her bones were chilled through despite the shared body-heat. The child lay beside her on the ground, now, her weak shivering echoing her own. Her little hands were icy to the touch and she’d stopped crying half an hour ago.
She hadn’t stopped to pack a hot drink, and the child had refused the lump of cheese she’d offered her.
She’s dying, Rhiannon.
It had taken every ounce of her determination and sense of self-preservation to keep Nerys at bay, but she’d always been the strongest of the three. Lowrie wasn’t a threat, but if she lost this last battle to Nerys, she was as good as dead. She had to hold out for a little longer, just until the sun rose.
The soft blush of dawn strengthened. It was almost time. She climbed stiffly to her feet and looked up at the stones, black against the steadily-lightening sky. Carrying the limp, unresponsive child, she trudged the last yards to the stone circlet and on into its centre. She laid the barely-warm offering upon the stone slab, drew her knife from her bag, and stood poised. The sacrificial lamb was still alive and that was what mattered.
Her arm jerked. ‘No, she’s Bethan. I won’t let you harm her.’
‘You can’t stop me.’ She raised the knife again.
She spun around and the knife flew from her fingers.
‘You’re evil, Rhiannon. I’m taking Bethan home, before it’s too late.’
She scrambled after the knife, her fingers grappling to hold it as Nerys struggled to prevent her. Her fingers gripped it at last, prepared to fight for her life. ‘She isn’t Bethan. Bethan has been dead for thirty years.’
Nerys recoiled, weakened from the body-blow, and she grabbed the opportunity before Nerys could recover. She faced the hills, making the zig-zag sign of Sowilo, and raised her arms to greet the sun, knife at the ready. Quickly, quickly… ‘Aw-oo-wen… aw-oo-wen…’
***
Minnie spluttered to a halt on the road beneath Cerrig o’ Tyr. The police hadn’t yet arrived, but they’d see the car and know where to come. There was no other car, either. Surely a woman of Rhiannon’s age couldn’t carry Saffy this distance. Tony grabbed Alana’s hand and they ran up the hill, ignoring the winding path and prickling gorse, and jumping anything in their way. The first of the stones came into view, pointing towards the sunrise.
She bent double, gasping for breath. ‘I’m okay… give me a second.’ If Saffy was here, she might not have a second. Holding her chest she ran on. A figure stood alone on the slab in the centre of the circle, her arms raised. She had her back to them, facing the brightening sky behind the hills, but she was sure it was Rhiannon. She was holding something in one hand. On the slab before her, lay a still bundle. Even in the early light she could make out red and pink. She let out a sob. She was too late.
Tony put a finger to his lips. They crept forward more slowly. A bright edge of sunlight rimmed the cleft in the hills. The hand raised slightly and began its downward plunge.
‘No-o-o-o-!’ She stood transfixed as the hand seemed to descend in slow motion, as if she had all the time in the world to reach out and stop it. ‘No-o-o-o.’
Tony charged forward, breaking the spell, and she ran after him. A siren wailed.
The figure jerked oddly. ‘Rhiannon, don’t.’
‘You can’t stop me, Nerys. I’m stronger than you.’ Rhiannon made another attempt to stab the bundle, and then threw herself to the ground and appeared to try to stab herself.
Tony leapt on top of the woman, grabbing for her knife hand. The blade flashed in the sunlight. Tony was strong, but the woman fought like something possessed.
She ran to Saffy and knelt beside her: she unzipped the red coat. Blood… no, there was no blood. Saffy’s skin was icy to the touch. She couldn’t feel a pulse. She put her face to Saffy’s and felt her breath on her lips. Checking her neck again, a faint pulse throbbed beneath her fingers. She was alive but freezing cold.
She undid her own coat and pressed her daughter’s flaccid body to hers, then thumbed 999 into her mobile. ‘Ambulance, quickly. I’m at the stone circle at Cerrig o’ Tyr near St Davids. It’s my daughter…’ She took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. ‘She’s two. She’s been out here all night. I think she has hypothermia. Hurry, please.’
‘Is she responsive?’
‘No. Limp. Unconscious.’
‘Is she shivering?’
‘No.’
‘Is she breathing?’
She put her face to Saffy’s again. ‘Yes, but not well. Her pulse is weak.’
‘Keep her as warm as you can. Use your own body heat. Don’t move her any more than you must and, if you can keep her horizontal, do so. Help is on its way. I’ll stay on the line until the paramedics arrive.’
She pulled her coat over Saffy’s head and cuddled her closer, tipping her body gently backwards.
‘When will they get here?’
‘About fifteen minutes. Just stay calm and check her breathing again for me.’
She bent her face towards Saffy and a slight breath caressed her cheek. ‘She’s still breathing.’
‘That’s very good. You’re doing everything you can. Help will be with you soon.’
> She was barely aware of the police officers running up the hill towards her or the voice on the phone asking her name: her eyes were on Tony and his battle for survival.
The knife flashed again and Tony rolled away, clutching his side.
‘No…’ Holding Saffy as still as she could, she stumbled towards him. He lay motionless upon the ground, a kitchen knife protruding from his ribs. ‘Tony…’ Blood flowed from his wound. She dropped the mobile and tried to hold the flesh closed around the knife with one hand. She shut her eyes, her head spinning. If she fainted now…
From the ground beside her a voice asked. ‘Can you tell me your name? Are you still there?’
Cradling Saffy in one arm, and trying to stem the flow of blood with her other hand, she bent as low as she could and shouted. ‘He’s been stabbed. There’s blood…’
‘Stay calm. Who’s been stabbed?’
‘My fiancé… He’s bleeding. His breathing’s funny. Please, tell them to hurry.’
‘Apply pressure to the wound.’
Her voice came in sobs. ‘I’m trying to… I can’t…’
‘Keep applying pressure. Help will be with you in about ten minutes. I’ll advise them of the situation.’
Ten minutes could be too long. ‘Tony, can you hear me? Tony…’ Saffy still lay limp against her chest. She prayed desperately to the god of ill-fated lovers, and mothers everywhere.
‘Is the child responding?’ The voice was her one constant, calm and reassuring: she clung to it.
‘No… nothing.’ Her head throbbed in time to her heart.
‘You’re doing well. Stay calm. Help will with you in… eight minutes.’
Two officers tackled Rhiannon, forced her back to the ground and wrestled her arms behind her back.
‘Is your fiancé still breathing?’
She watched for the faint rise and fall of Tony’s chest. ‘Yes.’
‘That’s good. Is he still losing blood?’
‘Some… Hurry, please.’
