Blood Harvest - By S. J. Bolton Page 0,148

the dead Renshaws were put except Lucy, because Jenny, Lucy’s mother, hated it. The police had searched it today, had opened up all the stone coffins to make sure Joe wasn’t tucked away in any of them. They’d searched it and locked it again and Sinclair Renshaw had put a massive great padlock on the door, so why did Ebba have a key to it? They weren’t going to go inside it, were they? He couldn’t go in a tomb at night, not even for …

Tommy, please come.

Ebba had unlocked first the padlock and then the iron gate. It swung open and she stepped inside, as though she wandered into old tombs all the time. Tom stood in the entrance and then took a tentative step forward. They were only in the small, railed courtyard, it wasn’t as though Ebba could get inside the building itse—

Ebba was opening the door that led inside the large stone box. She was beckoning to him, her face screwed up with impatience. She was serious, she really was taking him inside. But the church had been full of people all day. Joe could not be in the church. This was some sort of trap.

Tommy, please come.

Hold on, Joe, I’m coming.

The truck wasn’t moving. Gareth had been trying for five minutes to reverse it away from the small stream that had swallowed up its front wheel, and the two men couldn’t waste any more time. Harry had his climbing rope slung around his neck and a torch in his hand. Gareth had a box of tools in one hand and a sledgehammer in the other. The two men began striding over the snow.

Time to kill. Had Ebba known what Gillian was up to, about the murders of the three little girls, about Gillian’s interest in Millie? Had she been trying to warn them?

‘Sorry, mate,’ gasped Harry as they reached the edge of the ruined mill buildings. ‘We should have tried your way.’

Gareth didn’t turn his head. ‘Wouldn’t have made any difference,’ he said. ‘Driving across the moor’s close to impossible on a good day. The snow’s covering everything.’

The two men hurried on through the mill ruins.

If Ebba had been trying to warn them, had her torture of Gillian been a sort of punishment? Mummy, find me. Why would Ebba say that?

Gareth was pointing to his left, where they could just about make out a small building. ‘Is that it?’ he said.

‘That’s it,’ said Harry. ‘Take it easy. There are all sorts of loose stones round here.’

Gareth slowed his pace as they made their way across the remaining stretch of ground to the hut. Already, snow had settled on its roof, making it look even more like a cottage from a fairy tale.

Gillian had broken into the Fletchers’ house on the night of the bonfire? Had tried to abduct Millie? The intruder had worn wellington boots. Had he ever seen Gillian wearing such things?

They reached the door and Harry took a second to get his breath. They couldn’t just go charging in. If there were a bore hole in this hut it would be incredibly dangerous to be there at night. He wondered how long it would take the police to get here. They’d have to come on foot. He looked down hopefully. No lights could be seen making their way up towards them.

He put out his hand and tried the door. As expected, it was locked.

‘Stand back,’ ordered Gareth.

Harry did what he was told. Gareth raised the massive sledgehammer above his head and swung it forward.

Faster than she’d moved for years, Evi made it halfway up the stairs. She took hold of the banister and braced herself. If Alice fell now, she could easily knock them both to the bottom. She watched as the other woman swayed, then reached out to grab the wall.

‘Alice, take it easy,’ she called. ‘Deep breaths. Sit down. Put your head down.’

Alice sank to the floor, staring straight ahead as Evi struggled up the last steps. ‘What is it?’ she gasped, sinking down beside Alice. Christ, she hadn’t known such pain was possible. She was going to faint any minute now.

Alice was already trying to get up again. ‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘I have to get Gareth, go outside, I have to—’

‘Alice!’ Evi took hold of the other woman’s arm.

‘Tom’s gone,’ Alice went on. ‘Tom’s gone too now. I’m losing them all, one by one, she’s taking them all away from me.’

‘Alice, look at me.’

Alice tried to make

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