S Bolton - Blood Harvest

Silence in the room. Evi was trembling. For a second, she thought it wasn’t going to work, that he would order her out of the room and make an official complaint to the GMC even before twelve noon tee-off. Then he reached out and switched the computer back on.

‘Right,’ he said, not meeting her eyes. ‘What exactly are we looking for?’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I need to find a patient, most likely under thirty years old, suffering from congenital hypothyroidism.’

Rushton’s phone was ringing. He’d stood up, walking quickly away from Harry, his phone pressed against his right ear. Then he turned back, switching it off as he came back. ‘We’ve had a sighting in Great Harwood,’ he said. ‘Walk with me to the car, Harry.’

They set off, drawing curious glances as they made their way along the churchyard path. ‘A lad answering Joe’s description has been seen going into a house,’ continued Rushton. ‘No children are known to live there and the owner is someone we’ve had our eye on for a while. We’re sure he’s a nonce but we can’t prove it. He’s clever.’

‘And you think he’s got Joe?’ asked Harry, in dismay.

‘I hope so, lad. I bloody well hope so. Because this call came within the hour. If it’s Joe, he’s still alive.’

‘Will you tell Gareth and Alice?’

‘Not till we know anything for certain. We should have a car there in ten minutes. They won’t wait for me.’

They’d reached Rushton’s car. The waiting journalists, spotting the detective chief superintendent and sensing the urgency in his manner, came striding towards them. Rushton jumped into his car before turning back to Harry. ‘If I were you, lad,’ he said, ‘I’d get back into that church and do what you do best.’ The car set off, disappearing from sight as it turned the corner.

Knowing he couldn’t cope with journalists, Harry turned and walked quickly back up the hill. People were starting to leave the church and he realized he hadn’t heard the helicopter for several minutes.

Sinclair and Tobias Renshaw, both dressed for the outdoors, had followed Harry and Rushton out of the church grounds. Standing a little behind them, her eyes flicking up to Harry and then back down again, was Gillian.

‘Any news, Vicar?’ asked Sinclair, as Harry drew close.

Harry shook his head. ‘Nothing yet,’ he said. Had Joe spent the night with a known paedophile? What state would he be in, even if he was alive? No, he simply couldn’t start thinking like that.

Alice and Millie had appeared directly in front of him. Hovering at their side was Jenny Pickup.

‘How are you holding up, Alice?’ asked Sinclair, in a voice that surprised Harry with its gentleness. Alice looked up at the tall man as though he’d spoken to her in a foreign language.

‘Has anyone seen Gareth and Tom?’ she asked.

‘They were on Lower Bank Road about half an hour ago,’ said Gillian, stepping closer. ‘They went on to the old railway line with me and a few others. We wanted to check the Collingway tunnel.’

‘They would have come back when the helicopter began its search, though,’ said Tobias. ‘Alice, I wish you’d come back to our house and rest. It’s too cold for the little one to be out.’

‘You should, Alice,’ said Jenny, taking a step closer to her grandfather. ‘Or at least leave Millie there. Dad’s housekeeper will keep an eye on her. You can’t carry her round on your back all day.’

Alice’s eyes were drifting. ‘Thank you,’ she said, to the nearby lamppost. ‘I need to keep her with me. I have to find Gareth now.’

She turned away. More and more people were coming out of the church now. The search was back on.

‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid there’s nothing else to try.’

Wondering how she was going to find the energy to get out of her chair, Evi nodded her head. ‘I know,’ she admitted.

An hour after John Warrington had agreed to help her search for the mysterious Ebba, they’d been forced to give up. They’d run every search through patient records that they’d been able to think of. Only the records of the last thirty years had been computerized, but Warrington had gone into the practice basement and found several boxes of older records. They’d gone back forty years, knowing the chances of Ebba being older than that were almost non-existent, but although they’d found several people suffering from the condition, all had died. In thirty-four years, no one with congenital hypothyroidism, not even anyone with a goitre, had been registered as a patient. They’d racked their brains trying to think of similar conditions and had run several other searches. At last, they’d been compelled to give up.

‘How sure are you that she lives in this area?’ asked Warrington.

‘She must do,’ said Evi. ‘Someone with that condition couldn’t drive.’

‘I wouldn’t have thought so,’ agreed the GP.

‘How can someone like that slip so completely off the grid?’ asked Evi, almost trembling with frustration. ‘Why wasn’t she diagnosed as a baby? Why wasn’t she treated? And why, given all her medical needs, do the local doctors know nothing about her?’

Warrington didn’t reply and Evi pushed herself to her feet. ‘I’ve taken up enough of your time,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry you missed your game.’

‘I’ll phone our receptionists at home,’ the doctor offered. ‘And a couple who’ve since retired. It’s possible they can remember something, think of something. If anything comes up, I’ll let you know.’

‘I’m sinking, Harry,’ said Alice. They’d got as far as the corner of the churchyard and then Alice stumbled. He’d had to reach out to catch her, to stop her and Millie from tumbling to the ground.

‘You’re doing incredibly well,’ said Harry. He put an arm round her shoulders and led her to the wall. Her breathing was too fast. ‘You’re calm, you’re functioning and you’re taking care of your other two children,’ he went on. ‘I can’t imagine what strength that takes.’

‘It’s the worst feeling in the world,’ said Alice. ‘Not knowing where your child is. Nobody can feel like this and stay sane.’

‘You can,’ said Harry, although the truth was he wasn’t sure. He really didn’t like the way Alice seemed unable to focus on anything.

‘I’ll tell you what it’s like,’ she went on, leaning so close to him it felt uncomfortable. ‘It’s like Joe never really existed, that I just imagined him. And now, I really need to see Tom and Gareth because I’ve got this feeling that they’ve gone too. Then I’ll look round and Millie will have disappeared. It’s like someone’s rubbing us out, bit by bit.’

‘Millie is asleep on your shoulder,’ Harry said quickly, realizing that if he stopped talking he might start sobbing. ‘Tom and Gareth are close by, looking for Joe. Alice, look at me.’

She raised her head. He thought perhaps he could have fallen in love with those pale turquoise eyes, had he not already…‘We will find Joe,’ he said. ‘Some time very soon, we’ll find him. I wish I could promise you we’ll find him safe and well, but you know I can’t do that. But one way or another, we will find him. You’ll be able to see clearly again, you’ll be able to grieve, if you have to, and you’ll be able to move on. You’ll never be alone.’

‘Harry, I…’ Turquoise eyes filling with tears. A second pair was staring at him. Millie had woken and was looking at Harry as though she understood every word.

‘You have incredible strength,’ he said. ‘Your family will survive because they have you. You’re its heart. You’re its soul.’

‘I can see why you became a priest,’ said Alice, reaching out to touch his arm. ‘But it isn’t real, is it?’