Alice was already trying to get up again. ‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘I have to get Gareth, go outside, I have to-’
‘Alice!’ Evi took hold of the other woman’s arm.
‘Tom’s gone,’ Alice went on. ‘Tom’s gone too now. I’m losing them all, one by one, she’s taking them all away from me.’
‘Alice, look at me.’
Alice tried to make eye contact with Evi and failed. She was struggling to stand up.
‘Tom can’t be gone,’ said Evi. ‘We’ve been here all this time, the doors were locked. Have you checked the bathroom?’
Alice looked as if she had no idea what a bathroom was. She was in shock. The stress of holding it together for the past twenty-four hours had proved too much and Tom’s unexpected trip to the loo had sent her over the edge.
‘Tom!’ Evi called out. ‘Tom!’ she called again, a little louder, when there was no response. Anxiety growing, Evi struggled to her feet. Her stick was at the bottom of the stairs and the pain in her leg was beyond anything she normally had to cope with.
Alice was moving again, running down the stairs. She pulled open the front door. ‘Phone Gareth, please,’ she begged, turning back to Evi. ‘Tell him to get back here. I’m going to look outside.’
The front door blew wide open as Alice disappeared, and flakes of snow flurried into the hall, melting instantly on the slate tiles. Phone Gareth? Evi hadn’t phoned the police yet. She hadn’t even found the phone. Holding on to the wall, she made for the nearest room. It was Millie’s. The toddler slept on, oblivious to the drama unfolding around her. Evi turned. Tom would be in the house, he had to be.
‘Tom!’ she called, then decided she wasn’t going to try that again. It was just too unnerving to call for a child and hear nothing in response.
‘Tom!’ That was Alice, yelling outside.
Tom could not have gone outside, the doors had been locked.
She turned and made her way to Joe’s room in case Tom was sleeping in his brother’s bed for comfort. She pushed open the door and stood, panting, in the doorway. The room was empty.
Shutting her mind to the pain, Evi walked to Tom’s room and flicked on the light switch. ‘Tom!’ she heard from outside. Alice was behind the house now, calling in the garden.
Evi crossed the room and then clung to the window ledge to get her breath back. She could just about make out Alice, tearing about the garden. Right, she had to look in the bathroom and in Gareth and Alice’s room. Damn Alice, if she hadn’t lost her head, she would have been able to search the upper floor in seconds. It would take Evi precious minutes, when she needed to be talking to the police.
‘Tom,’ she called out, realizing she was crying. ‘Tom, please. It really isn’t funny.’
Tom didn’t answer her, and she carried on along the landing.
Tom was running, terrified he’d lose sight of Ebba and be left alone in the clawing, creeping darkness. He had no idea how big an underground chamber he was racing through, he couldn’t see the walls – not that he was looking; his eyes were fixed on the girl ahead of him.
Every time Tom was tempted to turn back, he made himself think of his brother. Joe, who he sometimes thought had been sent to earth to make his life miserable, who had been a complete pain from the day he was born, who was always getting his own way and who he fantasized about killing at least once a week. Joe, who he really didn’t think he could live the rest of his life without.
A wall loomed in front of them and Ebba shot through an archway. Tom went too, before he had chance to ask himself whether this was a good idea or not. None of this was a good idea, it was probably the worst idea he’d ever had in his life, but the strange creature ahead of him had his brother’s shoe.
She was balancing on an upturned crate and reaching for something in the ceiling. Then Tom saw light shining through. A minute later he and Ebba were both in the church. There was no sign of the police constable, the door to the vestry was firmly closed. Then Ebba was on her feet again and running up the aisle towards the back of the church.
Tom wasn’t in the house. Alice had been right and Evi had wasted precious time. She hadn’t even seen a phone. Nor had she heard anything of Alice for several minutes now. She had to get back downstairs and call the police. They could be here in minutes. She would use her mobile – it was just outside, in her car.
As she approached the front door, it slammed shut, startling her. She took a second to catch her breath. There was still a cold wind blowing through the house. Then the door of the living room blew shut.
She crossed the hall and pushed it open again. The window at the far end of the room was wide open. As quickly as she could, Evi walked across the room and leaned out. There was no sign of Alice in the garden any more.
‘Tom!’ Evi called.
Tom didn’t reply, nor had Evi expected him to. Tom had gone. A clear set of footprints leading across the garden to the churchyard wall, far too small to have been made by an adult, was indisputable proof of that.
Evi leaned out further and looked at the ground more closely. A second pair of prints lay in the snow just to one side of the boy’s. Knowing how much it would hurt, Evi sat on the window ledge, swung her legs up and twisted round until she could lower herself into the garden.
Already the snow was beginning to cover the prints; in less than an hour they might hardly be visible at all. Now, though, they were clear enough. Not very long ago, someone had crossed the garden from the wall and had then turned and retraced their steps, taking Tom along too. Tom’s footsteps were clean and regular, with no indication that he’d been dragged or forced along. Evi peered at the second set of prints. They were adult sized, although not huge, and quite different to the swirled and ridged pattern made by the soles of Tom’s trainers. Evi could see the outline of a large big toe, the curve of an instep. These were the prints of someone who didn’t wear shoes.
Tom had gone with Ebba.
The door gave way on the fourth blow and Harry caught hold of Gareth by the shoulder to stop him racing in. ‘Bore hole,’ he reminded him.
Pushing himself in front, Harry shone his torch all around the small stone hut. It had just one room, about four metres long by three wide. Looking up, he could almost touch the beams of the roof. A large metal ring had been screwed into the central beam. Under their feet was pitch-pine flooring.
Gareth moved in, banging the floorboards with the heel of his boot.
‘Sounds pretty solid,’ said Harry.
Gareth shook his head. ‘This is different,’ he said.
Harry listened as Gareth moved from one spot to the other, banging his foot down hard on each. The difference was minimal.
Harry began moving slowly round the hut, shining his torch downwards, looking for any discrepancies in the boarding that might indicate that the floor could be raised. There was nothing that he could see. Except, eighteen inches in from the door, there was a small round hole in one of the boards. He bent down.
‘What is it?’ asked Gareth.
Harry’s little finger was circling round in the hole. ‘Screw hole,’ he said after a second. ‘I can feel the thread. Something is supposed to screw into here.’ He looked up, shining the torch around, as though whatever was supposed to be screwed into the hole might be lying conveniently by on a hook. ‘Something like that,’ he said, shining the torch directly at the ring in the roof beam.
Gareth glanced up and then moved to the back of the hut. ‘Like this,’ he said, pointing at a similar ring that had been fastened into the rear wall. Several feet below the wall ring was a twisted piece of metal. ‘This is a lifting mechanism. Give me that rope.’
Harry tossed the rope over and watched the other man thread the end through first the wall ring and then the roof-beam ring. Then he brought it over to where Harry was kneeling.