puzzled us most about your son’s story,’ said Rushton, ‘because something was telling me he wasn’t lying, was how this intruder could get a small child into a hold-all without her yelling merry hell and waking the entire house up. It’s starting to make a bit more sense now.’
‘I still don’t see …’ Harry had moved as far as the door.
‘The principle component of these dry-cleaning pads is polyglycolether,’ said DI Neasden.
‘What?’ said Alice.
‘Miss off the fancy first bit,’ said Rushton. ‘Ether is what we’re talking about. Been used for donkeys’ years as a pretty crude anaesthetic. I’m sorry to say it, but it looks like someone held a pad soaked in ether against Millie’s face. It almost certainly wouldn’t have worked with an adult, probably not even on one of your lads, but given how small she is and the fact that she was sleeping anyway, it was probably just sufficient to keep her drowsy enough to put her in the bag.’
Alice gave a tiny cry and set off towards Harry.
‘I’m going,’ he muttered, and pulled open the kitchen door. Four strides took him to the door of the living room. He pulled it open, knowing that Alice was hot on his heels. Evi and the three children were sitting on the floor. Four faces, impossible to say which was the prettiest, turned to him. He was still trying to decide when Alice squeezed past him.
‘Um, um,’ called Millie, her little face lighting up, before squawking in annoyance as her mother scooped her up and pressed her against her chest.
Rushton and DI Neasden came into the room.
‘Right then,’ announced Rushton. ‘Schoolboy Superhero Tom and his trusty sidekick, Joe the Invincible, I think we need another word with you two.’
59
‘PERHAPS THEY’LL PUT A PLAQUE FOR US HERE AFTER we’re dead and gone,’ said Harry. ‘Are you cold?’
‘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