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 property – 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.