S Bolton - Blood Harvest

‘Jenny, Mike will be forgetting what you look like,’ he said. ‘Are you sure you don’t need to…?’ He left the question hanging. Harry wondered if Gareth wanted Jenny to leave, if he wanted them both to leave. Friends were no use to the Fletchers right now. They couldn’t help, they could only get in the way.

‘I will just nip back,’ said Jenny. ‘We’re staying with Dad tonight so we can get an early start in the morning.’ She looked from Harry to Gareth. ‘They’ll all be back,’ she said. ‘Mike and all the men. Everyone. We won’t give up.’

‘Thanks, Jenny,’ said Gareth. ‘But I think we know by now he isn’t here.’

Harry stood up to see Jenny out. ‘I’ll try and pop back later,’ she said in a soft voice as they stood in the doorway. ‘Just to check. Dinner’ll be five minutes. Make sure they eat.’

He closed the front door and leaned against it. He should go too, he was useless here. At least Jenny had provided food. Nobody would eat it, but she was doing something. Then he heard a noise outside. A car had drawn up, followed closely by a second. Two figures climbed out of the vehicles and approached the front door. He got ready to open it, expecting journalists. What was he supposed to say again? The family are holding up well. They’re grateful for everyone’s support. Please continue to pray for…

Brian Rushton stood on the doorstep, the shoulders of his coat damp with snowflakes. At his side, paler than he’d ever seen her, was Evi.

‘No!’

All heads turned to see Alice in the kitchen doorway. ‘No,’ she said again. Realizing what she was thinking, what the visit from Rushton and Evi probably meant, Harry felt his skin glowing hot.

‘Alice, don’t…’ said Evi.

Rushton was inside the house, shaking the snow off his shoes, steering Harry out of the way, striding towards Alice. ‘Steady down, lass,’ he was saying. ‘We’re not here to give you bad news. News, yes, but not bad news, so just take it easy. Come on, come and sit down.’

‘What?’ Harry mouthed the single word at Evi. Giving him a look he couldn’t interpret, she banged her heels against the doorframe to get rid of the snow and then set off after Rushton and Alice. Harry closed the door and followed them.

‘Let’s all sit down,’ said Rushton. Harry was about to take the last seat next to Evi when he caught her eye. She looked ill. He turned to the sink and ran a glass of water, handing it over without comment. She drank half of it down.

‘Dr Oliver phoned me just over an hour ago,’ said Rushton. ‘We may have made a breakthrough.’

‘You found Ebba?’ asked Harry, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Evi.

She shook her head. ‘That’s not what this is about.’ She looked at Rushton. ‘Do you want to…?’ she asked.

‘No, you go ahead, lass. You explained it very well to me just now.’

Evi’s hands were trembling, she seemed to be making a huge effort. ‘Last night I went to see a colleague,’ she said. ‘He’s had some forensic experience so I wanted to know what he made of everything.’ She paused and took another sip of water. She swallowed and a grimace of pain shot across her face, as though she had something in her throat.

‘Steve made me see that we’re looking for two people,’ she continued. ‘First, this Ebba person, who we think has some idea what’s been going on and who, in her own way, has been trying to warn you. But because she can only really relate to the children and because she frightens Tom, she hasn’t had much success.’ She turned to look at Harry. ‘You already know she hangs around the church. I think she’s responsible for the blood in the chalice that day and for the effigy of Millie that you found. I think she’s been trying to tell you what happens in the church. About the very real risk to Millie.’

Harry sensed Gareth and Alice share a look. He couldn’t remember how much they knew about the weird events in church. He saw Gareth opening his mouth to speak and his wife hushing him.

‘Most importantly,’ said Evi, ‘we’re looking for the person who’s been abducting and killing the little girls. Now, Steve made me see that it’s all linked. The church is important, but so is the town itself. It’s not coincidence that all the victims come from this town. Whoever the abductor is, he or she has a connection with all of them. They were chosen for a reason. I didn’t find Ebba today, but I may have found the link.’

‘And what’s that?’ asked Gareth.

‘Not what,’ said Evi. ‘Who. I think the link is Gillian.’

Tom was awake. Had he been asleep? He thought perhaps he had but he wasn’t sure. Whose bed was he in? Joe’s. The canopy of his own bunk was several feet above his head. There was light in the corridor, and he could hear voices in the kitchen downstairs. Not that late then. Better go back to sleep. Sleep was a world in which Joe was still OK.

A sudden rattling sound. He sat up. That was what had woken him. A series of sharp, clear taps. Someone was throwing stones at the window.

Joe! Joe was back and trying to get in. Tom sprang out of bed and ran across the room. The curtains were drawn. The fabric was rough against his face and he could feel the draught from outside. ‘Joe,’ he whispered.

He could still hear voices downstairs. Harry’s was the loudest, the most distinct. He could hear a woman’s voice too, much softer and quieter. Not his mum though, someone with an English accent. It could be Jenny, she’d been here earlier. Should he call for his parents, tell them he thought Joe was outside, throwing stones up at the window?

But could he do that to his mum? Make her hope Joe was back when really it was just tree branches scraping against the window?

There were no trees anywhere near Tom’s bedroom window.

He put both hands on the curtains and got ready to pull them an inch or two apart. Just far enough to see what was out there. An inch. Nothing but blackness. Two inches. Three.

The girl was in the garden behind the house, staring up at him.

In the kitchen silence fell. Then Gareth pushed himself to his feet. Rushton held up one hand. ‘Mrs Royle should be on her way to headquarters by now,’ he said, looking at his watch. ‘I’m just waiting for a call from DI Neasden to tell me she’s safely in custody. We won’t be able to interview her until the duty psychiatrist is in attendance, but at least we know she won’t be able to harm the lad.’

‘Gillian?’ said Alice. ‘Hayley was her daughter.’

‘She wouldn’t be the first mother to kill her own child,’ answered Rushton. ‘Not by a long shot. To be honest, I was sceptical myself when Dr Oliver called. I’m still not 100 per cent convinced, but there are enough questions that need answering.’ He nodded at Evi. ‘Go on, lass,’ he said, ‘you’ll tell it better than I will.

Evi dropped her eyes to the table, then looked up again. ‘I’ve been worried about Gillian for a while,’ she said, and the words seemed to come out of her reluctantly, as though, even now, she found it hard to break a patient’s confidence. ‘I knew there was a lot she wasn’t telling me, and I also knew there was more going on in her head than grief. I’ve suspected childhood abuse from a number of things she’s said and the behaviour she exhibits, but the first really worrying sign for me was finding out she’d lied about the manner of Hayley’s death. She told me and others that Hayley’s body wasn’t found, that it just disappeared in the fire. That wasn’t true. The firemen found remains.’

‘Which weren’t Hayley’s,’ Harry reminded her. ‘Hayley was taken out before the fire was started.’

‘Yes,’ said Evi. ‘But how could she have known that unless she was involved in Hayley’s removal from the cottage? I think Gillian’s refusal to accept that the remains were Hayley’s was her way of dealing with guilt.’