‘Sorry to keep you waiting,’ said Dr Warrington. ‘Saturday-morning surgery’s always busy.’
Evi forced her lips into a half-smile. She’d raced to get here after the press conference and had sat in the waiting room, watching squirrels run up and down trees in the garden outside, getting angrier as each patient with a cough or an in-growing toenail, not one of them a genuine emergency, was shown through before her.
‘I’ll have to rush you.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We tee off at noon.’ There was a book open on his desk. He closed it and reached to put it on the windowsill behind him. He hadn’t looked her in the eyes for more than a couple of seconds.
‘There is a woman in this area who suffers from congenital hypothyroidism,’ said Evi. ‘I need to find her. I think it could be relevant to Joe Fletcher’s abduction.’
Dr Warrington reached over and switched off his computer. ‘Sorry, Dr Oliver,’ he said. ‘You know the rules.’
‘What about up here?’ asked Harry, feeling the smoke of Rushton’s cigarette fill his lungs.
‘Well, the dog handlers went through the church like a dose of salts,’ replied Rushton. ‘Twice. They’ve done the cellars and the churchyard. A couple of times we thought they might have picked something up, but it didn’t lead anywhere.’
‘The boys come into the church quite often,’ said Harry. ‘They were here last Sunday for the service.’
‘Yes, well, that could explain it. We had a bit more luck with the CCTV footage in Blackburn. I’ve just had a call through.’
‘Really?’
‘Aye. I haven’t had chance to tell his parents yet, so keep it to yourself, but the couple we picked up at King George’s were spotted again, getting on a bus in the direction of Witton Park. We spoke to the driver just over an hour ago.’
‘Does he remember them?’
‘Vaguely. He thinks they must have got off somewhere along King Street because they definitely weren’t on board when he approached the park. The bus was just about empty by then.’
‘Any trace of them after that?’
‘Nope. And not likely to be. They could have had a car parked anywhere along that road. The important thing is, this couple haven’t come forward. In spite of their picture being on the news last night and this morning and in today’s Telegraph, nothing.’
‘So you haven’t been able to rule them out?’
‘Quite the contrary. We managed to enhance the image until we could see some sort of sticker on the heel of the child’s shoe. Tom tells us Joe had Spiderman stickers on his trainers. We’ve also been able to pin down the clothes the two of them were wearing. Remember, both were in baseball caps, both wearing oversized coats?’
‘I remember,’ said Harry.
‘Clothes exactly like them can be found in British Home Stores, not half a mile from King George’s. We’ve been through the till receipts and found a transaction of just those four items, almost exactly an hour before Joe was last seen.’
‘Clothes bought specially for the abduction,’ said Harry.
‘It was a cash transaction, sadly, so we’ve no hope of tracing the credit card, but we’re pretty certain now that the couple on camera are Joe and his abductor,’ said Rushton. ‘We’ve got people working on the image, to see if it can be enhanced any more, but we’re not hopeful. Small man, tall woman, could be either.’
‘The footprint you found in the Fletchers’ house on the night of Millie’s abduction could have come from a small man or a tall woman,’ said Harry.
‘Aye, it could. And given that the film footage showed no sign of Joe struggling, it’s likely he went with someone he knew.’
‘So he could be here after all?’
‘Aye, he could. And I’m happy to be proved wrong as long as we find him in time. I’ve got a team doing a house-to-house search. We’re asking people for permission to take the dogs round their homes. We can’t force anyone, obviously, but so far everyone we’ve asked is cooperating.’
‘How long will it take to get round every house in Heptonclough?’
Rushton sighed. He stubbed out his cigarette on the gravestone and then dropped it on the grass. ‘We won’t manage it today,’ he said. ‘But I’ve put a couple of cars on both roads out of town. Everyone leaving is being stopped and questioned. We’re asking permission to search the boots.’
‘Are people agreeing to that?’
‘If they don’t, we want to know why.’
No, it was not going to end like this. ‘Yes, I know the rules,’ Evi said, trying not to snap. ‘I’ve read them three times in the last twenty-four hours, Dr Warrington, so don’t try quoting them at me. It seems to me that in situations where serious harm may occur to a third party, the doctor isn’t just able to pass on information, he’s obliged to.’
Warrington leaned towards her, locking his fingers together in front of his chin. ‘That refers to passing information to the police,’ he said. ‘Get the officer in charge of the case to come and see me and I’ll see what I can do.’ He was bending down, picking up his bag.
‘There isn’t time for that,’ said Evi. ‘Look, I know I’ve sprung this on you and I’m sorry, but I’ve been up half the night working on this.’
He opened his mouth. She wasn’t giving him a chance.
‘I have neither the time nor the energy to be polite, so here’s the bottom line,’ she hurried on. ‘If you don’t help me and Joe Fletcher dies, I will make certain everyone – the police, the General Medical Council, the media, absolutely everyone – knows about this conversation and that you put rules, not to mention golf, before a little boy’s life.’
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.