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.
84
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-
Ebba was opening the door that led inside the large stone box. She was beckoning to him, her face screwed up with impatience. She was serious, she really was taking him inside. But the church had been full of people all day. Joe could not be in the church. This was some sort of trap.
Tommy, please come.
Hold on, Joe, I’m coming.
The truck wasn’t moving. Gareth had been trying for five minutes to reverse it away from the small stream that had swallowed up its front wheel, and the two men couldn’t waste any more time. Harry had his climbing rope slung around his neck and a torch in his hand. Gareth had a box of tools in one hand and a sledgehammer in the other. The two men began striding over the snow.
Time to kill. Had Ebba known what Gillian was up to, about the murders of the three little girls, about Gillian’s interest in Millie? Had she been trying to warn them?
‘Sorry, mate,’ gasped Harry as they reached the edge of the ruined mill buildings. ‘We should have tried your way.’
Gareth didn’t turn his head. ‘Wouldn’t have made any difference,’ he said. ‘Driving across the moor’s close to impossible on a good day. The snow’s covering everything.’
The two men hurried on through the mill ruins.
If Ebba had been trying to warn them, had her torture of Gillian been a sort of punishment? Mummy, find me. Why would Ebba say that?
Gareth was pointing to his left, where they could just about make out a small building. ‘Is that it?’ he said.
‘That’s it,’ said Harry. ‘Take it easy. There are all sorts of loose stones round here.’
Gareth slowed his pace as they made their way across the remaining stretch of ground to the hut. Already, snow had settled on its roof, making it look even more like a cottage from a fairy tale.
Gillian had broken into the Fletchers’ house on the night of the bonfire? Had tried to abduct Millie? The intruder had worn wellington boots. Had he ever seen Gillian wearing such things?
They reached the door and Harry took a second to get his breath. They couldn’t just go charging in. If there were a bore hole in this hut it would be incredibly dangerous to be there at night. He wondered how long it would take the police to get here. They’d have to come on foot. He looked down hopefully. No lights could be seen making their way up towards them.
He put out his hand and tried the door. As expected, it was locked.
‘Stand back,’ ordered Gareth.
Harry did what he was told. Gareth raised the massive sledgehammer above his head and swung it forward.
Faster than she’d moved for years, Evi made it halfway up the stairs. She took hold of the banister and braced herself. If Alice fell now, she could easily knock them both to the bottom. She watched as the other woman swayed, then reached out to grab the wall.
‘Alice, take it easy,’ she called. ‘Deep breaths. Sit down. Put your head down.’
Alice sank to the floor, staring straight ahead as Evi struggled up the last steps. ‘What is it?’ she gasped, sinking down beside Alice. Christ, she hadn’t known such pain was possible. She was going to faint any minute now.