The Long Call (Two Rivers #1) - Ann Cleeves Page 0,40
there with five minutes to spare and he waited until a line of elderly women laden with shopping bags and a couple of mothers and babies had boarded. He showed the driver his warrant card and a photo of Walden. ‘Do you recognize him? He took this bus every afternoon last week.’
The woman shook her head. ‘I’ve been off on maternity leave. This is my first day back. You’ll need to talk to the depot.’
Matthew hesitated, but instead of jumping back down to talk to a supervisor, he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and bought a ticket to Lovacott. He’d follow the route Simon Walden had taken and see what happened. The front seat was vacant and he sat there. He’d never bunked off school, but he thought it would have felt like this. He sent a message to Jen and Ross saying he probably wouldn’t be back at the police station until the evening briefing.
The bus went back across the bridge to the stop where Lucy would usually get on. A middle-aged woman boarded. They were just across the road from the Woodyard and Matthew had a good view of the tall, red-brick building. Life there would be continuing, Jonathan would be holding things together with good humour and efficiency. Nobody was waiting at the stop where Walden always joined the bus. Why had he walked the little way up the bank to catch it? So he couldn’t be seen from the Woodyard? Matthew wondered why he’d felt the need to keep his visits to Lovacott and his encounters with Lucy Braddick secret.
Looking back on Barnstaple, Matthew saw the curve of the river widening towards the estuary, the town sprawling away from it. The bus circled the suburb of Sticklepath, called at the Further Education College at the top of the hill and picked up a handful of students, before heading inland on roads that scarcely seemed wide enough for a vehicle of this size.
Matthew thought he should be canvassing the passengers, showing Walden’s photo, but what would they say? ‘Yes, a guy looking like that got on. He sat next to a woman with Down’s syndrome and he offered her some sweets. They chatted.’
Because Lucy had said that nothing else happened and her father had believed her. But the man who had made Lucy happy, had made her giggle and stand by the bus stop in her village the day before, waiting in case he should turn up, sounded nothing like the dour and angry Simon Walden described by the women in the house in Ilfracombe. So, what had been going on here? What motive might Walden have had for this trip into the countryside, for gaining Lucy Braddick’s confidence? Why had he wanted her to trust him?
The bus stopped less frequently now and only to drop off passengers. It was overheated and Matthew found himself struggling to stay awake, in almost a dream-like state. He hadn’t travelled by bus since his father had taught him to drive while he was still at school and he’d forgotten how much better the view was. He was high enough to see into the upstairs window of a cottage standing next to the road. A bed with a yellow candlewick cover and a heavy mahogany wardrobe. A woman with her back to them. They moved on before Matthew could make out what she was doing. Over the hedge, there was a glimpse of water, a pool or a lake; two grand pillars formed the entrance to an overgrown track that disappeared into nothing but woodland and a buttery patch of celandines. The bus stopped, apparently in the middle of nowhere, to let off an elderly couple.
The road climbed steeply and then they were looking down at the village of Lovacott: a group of houses clustered around a small square, which was hardly more than the main street widened. A shop that seemed to sell everything, a pub. There was nothing picturesque here. No thatch. It would never have featured in an episode of Midsomer Murders. The houses were sturdy and pleasant enough, but unremarkable, unlikely to pull in tourists. Beyond the square the road wound on to the row of 1950s council houses where the Braddicks lived. The bus stopped and the passengers climbed out. The driver stayed in her seat and pulled out a paperback book. This was the end of the route. There was sprayed graffiti on the shelter. A group of the students who’d got on