S Bolton - Blood Harvest

‘The helicopter would. A big source of heat like a child, even a child’s body – sorry, Alice – would have been picked up by the equipment.’

‘What about underground?’ said Alice. ‘Are there any mines on the moor? Or caves? You know, like in Derbyshire, where they have the Blue John mines.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Gareth. ‘Harry and I were looking at water-resource maps yesterday, I’m sure they’d have indicated any- Oh, Jesus.’

‘What?’ asked Evi. The two men were staring at each other. Then Gareth ran from the room.

‘What is it?’ said Alice. ‘What have you thought of?’

‘Give him a sec,’ said Harry.

They waited, listening to the sound of Gareth fumbling with papers in the other room. Then he was back. He leaned across the table, spreading out a large black and white map. His hand hovered over it for a second.

‘There,’ he said, pointing with one finger. The two women leaned in. Harry stayed where he was. ‘The bore hole.’

‘What’s a bore hole?’ asked Alice.

‘A deep hole in the ground,’ said Gareth. ‘Right down to the water table.’

‘You mean a well?’

Her husband nodded. ‘That’s usually what bore holes are dug for.’

‘Hang on, mate,’ said Harry. ‘I can’t believe that place wasn’t searched. It’s less than half a mile out of town.’

‘But where is it, exactly?’ said Alice. ‘Is it that little stone hut just below Morrell Tor? The one the kids call Little Red Riding Hood’s house? But we’ve seen Gillian there.’

‘I’ve seen her there too,’ admitted Harry. ‘And if she’s been coming and going in the Renshaw house over the years she’d have had plenty of time to steal the key. But it must have been searched.’

‘There can’t be a bore hole in that hut,’ said Alice. ‘Sinclair told me that Jenny and Christiana played in it when they were children.’

‘Bore holes and old wells are usually covered over,’ said Gareth. ‘It’s bloody unsafe to do anything else. But she could have found a way to access it again.’

‘I’m sure it must have been searched,’ said Harry.

‘What’s the range of sniffer dogs?’ said Evi. ‘How deep down a pit would a small child have to be dangling to be out of reach?’

Nobody answered her. Nobody knew. And judging by the looks on their faces, everyone had the same picture in their heads.

‘If he’s far enough underground, maybe the thermal-imaging equipment couldn’t spot him,’ she went on.

‘I need to get up there,’ said Gareth, making for the door.

‘I’m coming too.’ Alice was already on her feet, following him.

Harry jumped up and caught her. ‘You should stay with Tom and Millie,’ he said. ‘I’ll go up. There’s rope in my car. And a harness. We can drive most of the way if we take Gareth’s truck.’ He stopped, a frown furrowing his forehead. ‘The door will be locked,’ he called to Gareth. ‘We’re going to need your tools.’

They heard Gareth cross the hallway and open the front door. Harry turned to Evi. ‘Do you have Rushton’s numbers?’ he asked.

She nodded.

‘Get on the phone to him. Tell him where we’ve gone and ask if he can send someone up. Don’t take no for an answer. We’ll need fire and rescue too.’ He turned, found his coat on the back of a chair and shrugged it on to his shoulders. Seconds later, he and Gareth had left the house.

TOM HAD FOUND HIS TRAINERS BY THE FRONT DOOR AND A yellow hooded sweatshirt behind one of the sofas in the living room. Even so, seconds after he climbed out of the window he was freezing. The stone of the window ledge felt like ice through his pyjamas. Snowflakes began to land on his head and face. He pulled the window almost closed again.

Ebba had taken hold of his hand and was hurrying him across the dark garden. They reached the gap in the wall and she went through first. He followed and they were in the churchyard.

Harry jumped into the truck, the climbing rope on his lap. Before the door was closed the truck was moving, its tyres making fresh tracks in the snow. Gareth swung out of the driveway and started to turn downhill towards Wite Lane.

‘Carry on up,’ said Harry. ‘Up the hill, out of town.’

Gareth was still looking down the lane. ‘Alice and the kids go along Wite Lane to get up the moor,’ he said.

‘Aye, but that way’s steep. I don’t know how far you’ll be able to take the truck.’

Gareth took a deep breath. ‘So what are you suggesting?’ he said.

‘Three-quarters of a mile outside town there’s a farm gate on your right,’ said Harry. ‘I think Mike Pickup uses it to get feedstuff to his animals. We can drive through and approach the cottage from above. The ground’s pretty solid, we should be able to get most of the way there.’

Gareth pressed his foot on the accelerator and the truck moved forwards up the hill. They picked up speed and the flakes whirling in front of them grew larger as they left the town behind.

‘Slow down,’ said Harry. ‘Slower. There it is.’

The truck stopped and Harry jumped down. He ran round the front of the vehicle as it went into reverse. A second later the truck’s headlights flooded the metal farm gate.

Harry pushed the gate open and Gareth drove through. The hut was less than a mile away.

A wave of pure weariness swept through Evi as the vehicle’s rear lights disappeared up the moor. She wanted nothing more than to lie down, close her eyes, let others handle it from here. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘I need the phone.’

‘It’s right behind you,’ said Alice. ‘I’m going to check on Tom and Millie.’ Alice ran up the stairs as Evi turned to the phone. It wasn’t there. As Evi headed into the hallway, Alice emerged from Millie’s room and crossed the landing. Evi lifted her hand for attention but Alice didn’t look down.

And then a strangled scream sounded from above. Evi stopped, her heart pounding but her brain refusing to take in the possibility that something else had happened. Something that really wasn’t good, judging by the face of the woman at the top of the stairs.

Tom and Ebba were making their way through the white graveyard. Tommy, please come. Tom knew he’d be hearing his brother’s voice in his head for the rest of his life if he ignored it now.

As they passed Lucy Pickup’s new grave, they seemed to be heading for the church, which was pointless, because the church had been thoroughly searched with dogs and everything, and even if it hadn’t been, they’d have no chance of getting in now. Tom had heard the grown-ups talking earlier. The front door and the door to the roof had been locked and bolted, and the three sets of keys to the vestry door were now with Harry and the police. Plus, a police constable was spending the night in the vestry – just in case.

Either the snow was deadening sound or it was later than Tom had thought because the night was almost completely silent. He thought he heard a car engine starting up, and then the same car speeding away up the moor, but then silence fell again. They’d reached the mausoleum where all 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-