S Bolton - Blood Harvest

Past the fourth alcove, approaching the fifth. The gate was still open on the sixth.

He slowed his pace as he drew closer. He remembered four sarcophagi in the sixth alcove, a narrow passageway and a small wooden door in the far wall.

Bracing himself for a sudden attack, he stepped inside the gate. The alcove was empty. Ebba must have left through the door at the rear. Harry stepped towards it. It was hardly more than eighteen inches wide and it opened outwards.

The room beyond was a narrow, tall chamber with an arched brick ceiling. Brick-built shelving lay on either side, each shelf carrying stone coffins. The air was dry and earthy, and a cold breeze was coming through another door at the far end. Ebba had left in a hurry, and through the smallest of gaps he could see the night sky.

He glanced at his watch as he strode past the coffins. Six forty a.m. He pushed the door and stepped out into a tiny courtyard, surrounded by high iron railings. He recognized them at once, although he’d never been on this side of them before. He’d left the church through the Renshaw family mausoleum.

Well, now he knew how Ebba was getting in and out of the church without being seen. But where was she? He crossed the courtyard, his feet crunching on gravel, and pushed the iron gate.

It might be six forty and the world might be waking up, but the sky above him was as black as it had been the entire night. He waited, his heart pounding in his chest. No sound, not even wind.

Then the grasses were being rustled and the bushes shaken. Someone was coming towards him. Harry stepped into the shadow of a tall laurel bush. He could see her, a slight figure, creeping towards him, looking all around, as if scared that something would spring out. Harry stepped forward, grabbed the figure by the shoulders and spun it round to face him.

‘Tom!’ he said, as all the breath went out of his body. ‘What on earth are you doing out here?’

Tom looked back at him, wide-eyed and slightly sullen, the way kids did when they didn’t want to answer a question. Especially a stupid one. He was looking for his brother, of course, what else would he be doing?

‘Do your mum and dad know you’re here?’ Harry asked.

Tom shook his head. ‘They were both asleep. I didn’t want to wake them up.’

‘OK, but we need to get back.’ He put a hand on Tom’s shoulder and urged him up the hill. If Alice and Gareth woke to find another child missing they might just lose any remaining sanity they were clinging to.

They found the path and Harry finally felt relaxed enough to speak. ‘Tom,’ he said, ‘I think I just saw that girl you talk about. The one Millie calls Ebba.’

Tom stopped walking and looked up at him. ‘You saw her?’

‘Yes. Don’t stop moving.’ Harry pushed Tom gently and they both carried on up the hill. ‘She was in the church just now.’

‘She’s scary, isn’t she?’ said Tom in a low voice.

‘Well, I didn’t get a proper look.’ They were close to the churchyard wall now. ‘Tom, do you have any idea who she is, where she lives?’ Harry asked. ‘She can’t live out in the hills, she must belong somewhere.’ She had a key to the Renshaw tomb. Could she possibly…?

‘She usually runs away when I see her,’ said Tom. ‘I’m pretty certain she talks to Joe, though.’

‘Do you think Joe’s with her now? Do you think she took him?’

Tom gave a small nod. ‘I said that to the police,’ he said, ‘but they said anyone who looks as strange as she does would have been spotted in Blackburn, especially in King George’s Hall. They think Joe was taken by a grown-up.’

‘All the same, I wish we could find her. Tom, did you ever-’

‘Tom! Tom!’

Tom started to trot forward. Harry took a deep breath. ‘He’s here!’ he yelled at the top of his voice. ‘He’s with me!’

A second later Gareth’s head and shoulders appeared over the boundary wall. Pushing himself up, he strode towards his son.

‘Do you have any bloody idea…?’ he began.

Harry stepped forward. ‘Tom couldn’t sleep,’ he said quickly. ‘He came out to look for Joe. He met me just down the hill.’

‘Your mother nearly had heart failure. Now get inside.’

‘Take it easy, buddy,’ said Harry.

Gareth lifted his hands to his face and breathed heavily. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘Come on, matey.’ He reached out and pulled his son to him. Tom wrapped an arm round his father’s waist and they walked together to the churchyard entrance. Harry followed behind, spotting Alice at their front door, watching them. Her thin body seemed to be jerking; he wondered if she were struggling not to cry – or scream. Across the street, lights were being switched on, curtains drawn back. He and Gareth had woken half Heptonclough with their yelling.

Harry fell back as Gareth and Tom left the church grounds and headed back to their house. It was almost seven. He reached the churchyard entrance and stopped. He should go home and change, eat breakfast. In another hour it would be completely light and Rushton and his team would arrive. They’d have eight, maybe nine hours of daylight.

Someone was watching him. He turned to face uphill. The silver Audi was tucked up tightly against the church wall. Evi had just climbed out, using a stick to steady herself. She waited for him to go to her.

‘WHERE THE BLOODY HELL HAVE YOU BEEN? DO YOU have any idea how worried I was about you?’

He was holding her by the upper arms; it was too angry to be a hug, too intimate to be anything else. He smelled of sweat and dust and candle smoke. His eyes were bloodshot. She reached up, stroked the stubble on his chin.

‘Where did you spend the night?’ she asked, feeling her jaw trembling and thinking that if he didn’t let her go soon, she’d start to cry and that really would be the end of her ability to function.

Harry took one hand off her arm to rub it across his face. ‘You really don’t want to know,’ he replied, releasing her and pushing his hands into his pockets. ‘Come and get some breakfast with me.’

There was nothing she’d like more. Have breakfast at his house, run a bath for him, watch him shave. She shook her head. ‘I haven’t time,’ she said. ‘I have to put calls out to all the local hospitals and talk to the district GP when Saturday-morning surgery opens. If a child was born with congenital hypothyroidism in the last thirty years, there must be a record somewhere. And I said I’d go to the press conference with the family.’

‘What happened to you yesterday?’ Harry asked her.

Evi sighed. ‘I went to see my supervisor,’ she said. ‘He’s had some forensic experience so I thought his take on things would be useful. I can fill you in later. Finding Ebba is the key thing.’

‘Did you see Gillian?’ asked Harry, not quite meeting her eyes.

‘Late last night. It didn’t go well.’ Over his shoulder she could see people heading for the church. ‘The other thing I need to do is find another doctor to take over her case,’ she went on. ‘I’m going to try and get her seen today. I’m really quite worried.’

Two elderly women were waiting just a few yards away, obviously wanting to speak to him. She looked at her watch. ‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’ She turned to her car and stopped. ‘Could use some of that faith of yours right now,’ she said. ‘Any going spare?’

If he replied, she didn’t hear him.

HARRY TURNED FROM EVI TO SEE MINNIE HAWTHORN AND one of her friends at the entrance to the churchyard. Their eyes seemed to peel him like a vegetable as he walked towards them, taking in his creased clothes, his unshaven face.