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On the deck the man was holding Alice above his head. It occurred to Vera that he must have strong muscles in his upper body to lift her so easily. Did he work out at the gym? Then she thought he looked a little like a priest. One of those grand priests in the fancy robes that you found in cathedrals, lifting the chalice for the congregation to see as he blessed it during the communion service. Or did they call it the mass? She’d never got the hang of the different denominations.

The man held his hands apart and dropped the girl into the lake. She disappeared without a splash.

Ashworth had reached the closest point to the boathouse and was already wading out towards it. Now he started swimming, his hair slick like an otter’s. On the decking Connie was struggling to get past the man, shouting and scratching at his face. But Vera kept her eyes fixed on Ashworth. He dived into the water and emerged, shaking the water from his head, holding the child. He swam on his back, clutching the girl’s body to his chest, until the water was shallow enough for him to stand. Then he held her over his shoulder and wrapped his arms around her. Vera thought she would never be rude or snide to him again. Half walking and half swimming, he carried the child to the shore.

Chapter Forty-One

From the boathouse Simon Eliot watched impassively. Then he turned deliberately, did a perfect swallow-dive from the deck, and began to swim away to the far end of the pool. A show. Like the fit lifeguards at the Willows, when they were showing off in front of the yummy mummies. He must know now that there was no escape for him.

Vera decided to leave Joe Ashworth in charge of the operation to pick up Eliot. There was some satisfaction in knowing she’d been right about the killer. It had come to her suddenly, thinking about the teenage waiter’s blushes when he spoke about Jenny Lister. Jenny had talked about her unsuitable lover. Who could be more unsuitable than her daughter’s fiancé? And who was more likely to fall for an older woman than Simon Eliot, whose own mother’s energies had been taken up with grieving for her two other lost children? But Vera felt ill when she thought how close they’d been to losing a child. She found her sports bag in the back of the Land Rover. A towel and a brand-new tracksuit, bought after she’d first joined the Willows Health Club and never worn.

‘Put this on,’ she said to Ashworth. ‘You’ll catch your death.’

‘I can’t wear that!’ He’d always been vain.

‘Suit yourself.’

In the end the cold convinced him. He went behind the high wall and came out, his hair tousled like a bairn’s and in the tracksuit. The legs were a bit short, and the joggers looked odd above the sodden work shoes. If he hadn’t been such a hero, Vera would have taken a photo on her phone and sent it to the rest of the team.

‘Be grateful I’m not a girlie type and I don’t wear pink,’ she said. Relief was making her a bit giggly and flighty. ‘What’d you have looked like then?’

Connie and Alice sat in the passenger seat; Alice had changed into dry clothes already and was wrapped in Connie’s coat. Ashworth had pulled Connie ashore in the dinghy after handing Alice to Vera. Vera could still remember the feel of the soaking child in her arms, the fragile bones and the fluttering heart. It was like holding one of Hector’s birds, she thought. An owl perhaps. And as close she’d get now to cuddling a bairn of her own.

‘You don’t want to stay and see this through?’ Ashworth asked. ‘We can get a patrol car to take Connie home. The water’s already gone down a bit.’

‘Nah,’ she said. ‘This is more important.’ And she knew it would only take a matter of minutes for Ashworth to track Eliot down. The man had no car, he was wet through and there was a helicopter buzzing overhead. Joe deserved the glory of the arrest.

She dropped Connie and Alice at Mallow Cottage. ‘You’re sure you don’t want a lift to A&E?’

‘The ambulance crew checked her over and said she’s fine.’

‘Aye, well then.’ Vera thought it was for the best, but she wouldn’t have minded putting off the next interview for a bit longer.

She parked outside the Lister house. The elderly woman next door was watching through the nets and gave Vera a little wave when she recognized her. Reassuring that there was someone to keep an eye out for Hannah. Vera rang the bell and heard footsteps. The door opened and the girl was already speaking.

‘Where have you been? I thought you’d only gone to the supermarket.’ Not nagging. That one would never be a nagging sort of woman. Just concerned. Then she saw Vera and it was like a rerun of the first visit to the house, the time when Vera had to tell Hannah that her mother was dead.

‘Oh, it’s you, Inspector. I thought you were Simon. He’s taken my mother’s car to get some food. He’s been ages, but perhaps he’s got stuck in the floods. Do you want some coffee?’ She walked through to the kitchen and Vera followed.

‘Maybe later, pet. We need to talk first.’

Something about Vera’s face made the girl stop in her tracks.

‘You’ve found him, haven’t you? The man who killed my mother?’

‘Aye, we know who it is. Not in custody yet, but only a matter of time.’

‘Is it someone I’d know?’ Hannah looked up at her, sensing perhaps that there was more to this than the official notification that the killer had been found.

Vera paused. The girl had been through so much already. How could Vera tell her that the man she adored was a murderer?

‘It’s Simon.’

‘No!’ She forced a laugh. ‘This is a terrible joke, right?’ Her face was grey. She pulled out a chair and almost fell into it.

‘No joke. Do you want me to tell you about it? Should I get someone to be with you first? Friend? Teacher?’ Vera had asked much the same question on that earlier visit too and Simon had come rushing in. Hannah’s knight in shining armour. Her boy fiancé.

‘Tell me. I don’t believe it, but tell me your story.’

‘She fell in love with him. Your mother fell in love with him.’

There was a silence, which wasn’t what Vera had been expecting. She’d thought there would be tears, denial, rage, even that Hannah would throw her out of the house.

‘You’re not surprised?’

‘She fancied him,’ Hannah said quietly. ‘You could tell. But Simon and I made a joke about it. Why wouldn’t she? Why wouldn’t a middle-aged woman fancy a fit younger man? But she wouldn’t do anything about it. My mother was a good woman.’

And she was getting older, body clock ticking. It’s a powerful sensation, lust. Easy to convince yourself that you’re in love when the hormones start working. Love gives us licence to do what we like. Love is honourable and brave, even if we’re screwing our daughter’s fiancé. All bollocks of course, but that’s what we’re brought up to believe. And after being good for so long, the temptation to be wicked must have been overwhelming. I understand all that.

‘What about Simon? Did he fancy her?’

‘He liked her. Admired her. He didn’t have much of a relationship with his own mother, so I was pleased Mum and Simon got on so well.’

‘They were lovers,’ Vera said. It was best the girl heard the details from her. No doubt the story would dribble out over time, even if Eliot was persuaded to plead guilty. ‘Have been for months. They met an afternoon a week in Durham. Her excuse was that she went to Durham prison to meet Mattie Jones, but she always kept the visits very short. Mattie confirmed that with my sergeant. Then they spent the rest of the day in Simon’s house. His parents had bought it for him. An investment. Very handy.’ She looked at Hannah. ‘We showed Jenny’s photo to the neighbours. A few recognized her. The pair of them were about as discreet as it’s possible to be, but there’s no doubt, I’m afraid. One afternoon they left the curtains open and a nosy old lady saw them kissing.’ This was another of the operations she’d planned from her seat in the Willows the day before: a house-to-house in the street where Simon lived. She had a couple of friends who worked for County Durham police. They’d owed her a few favours, paid back now.