‘Good news,’ she said briskly. ‘Lizzie got on the bus in town and headed out to Gilswick. It’s possible that she met up with a friend from the valley, don’t you think? That she’s in The Lamb, catching up. Or in one of the houses in the village. Waiting for the rain to clear. She probably has no idea that you’re worried.’
They stared at her. Annie just looked distraught. Vera couldn’t tell what was going through Sam’s mind. ‘Maybe you’d like to check?’ Vera said. ‘Drive down to the pub and see if she’s there.’
‘We could phone Gloria.’ It seemed Sam had decided that Vera had nothing useful to contribute. ‘That makes more sense.’
Annie tugged at his sleeve. ‘No. Let’s drive down to the village. I can’t stand waiting. This house… And there might be other people there who were on the bus. We might even bump into Lizzie on the road.’
Vera stayed where she was until she heard their car drive away, then she went outside. In the other houses facing onto the courtyard the curtains had been shut against the weather. Everything was quiet. The rain was gentle and persistent. She pulled up the hood of her jacket and started down the track, allowing her eyes to get used to the gloom. She had a torch in her pocket, but didn’t need it yet.
She turned onto the footpath leading to the hill where Shirley Hewarth’s body had been found and stood for a moment, listening. Again she was struck by the fact that it was impossible to see the Valley Farm development from here. It was only a few minutes’ walk away, but she could be miles from human habitation. There was no sound. No movement. She started on down the lane towards Percy and Susan’s house, walking on the grass verge so that her footsteps made no noise. When she got to the trees there was less light and it was only the gleam from an elaborate lamp on the outside wall of the bungalow that kept her on the road. The couple hadn’t drawn their curtains and she stood very still, looking in. Percy was standing in the kitchen with a mug in his hand. Vera couldn’t see Susan. The rain had stopped and the sky seemed to be clearing a little.
She walked on more quickly, seeing her way more easily. The next turn-off was the drive to the Hall. Because of the twist in the track and the trees, it was impossible to see the house. But in the distance there were lights. Blue-white and ghostly and close to the ground. Patrick Randle’s moth traps. It was the last thing she’d been expecting to see, as if the young man had come back to haunt them.
Vera stopped again and listened. Voices. Indistinct and too far away for her to make out the speakers. At this distance they were more like whispers. Lovers’ caresses. At first she wondered if the sound was just caused by the wind in the branches.
She didn’t move. She wished she knew where Joe was. She didn’t want him stumbling along the road, all heavy boots and shouting. This was a delicate situation. She thought again that Lizzie was like an unexploded bomb. A sudden movement or a loud noise might set her off. Vera took her phone from her pocket and switched it to silent. Then she tapped out a text to Joe: Lizzie in Gilswick Hall close to the moth traps. Approach carefully. No fuss. No noise. She hit ‘Send’ and the message disappeared silently into the ether. Vera listened again, but the conversation under the trees seemed to have stopped.
She was a heavy woman, but years of acting as Hector’s lookout had made her quiet on her feet. The damp undergrowth cushioned her tread. Still the violet lights of the traps seemed to dance in the distance. She walked, but she didn’t seem to come any closer. Then suddenly she could see them in a clearing ahead of her and the voices had started again. Intense. Two figures were standing just beyond the traps. They were of a similar height. Both dressed in waterproofs and boots. Dark shadows in the fading light and impossible to identify. Vera slid behind the wide trunk of a beech and listened.
‘It’s up to you.’ A woman’s voice. Apparently reasonable. Persuasive and clear. Loud enough so that Vera could hear. ‘Your choice. You can afford it. Who need ever know?’
Silence.
Vera felt the rough bark of the tree against her back even through her coat. She didn’t dare move to see the figures more clearly. She didn’t need to look.
‘You don’t understand.’ The shadow was bulky, bull-headed, thick-necked.
‘Just give me the money and I’ll be away. You’ll never see me again.’ Her voice was still reasonable, but Vera could tell that the speaker was losing patience now. There was a scuffle and a little scream. At that moment the security lights at the big house went on. The timer must have been triggered and the whole grounds were flooded with a white light.
As if lit by a spotlight and like a character in a Victorian melodrama, Nigel Lucas stood at the centre of the clearing. He had one arm round Lizzie Redhead’s throat and the other was raised to strike. He had a Stanley knife in his hand; Vera thought he must have grabbed it from Lizzie just before the lights came on. Everything seemed to happen very slowly. Vera came out from behind the tree, but she was too far away to stop the attack and Lucas seemed so angry that he appeared not to hear her yelling. It was like a nightmare; she was running, but seemed rooted to the ground. Tied down. Impotent. She knew she wouldn’t get there in time. She imagined the conversation with Sam and Annie: I’m really sorry. There was nothing we could do. The parents’ pale faces and their staring reproach.
Then, still as if in slow motion, another figure appeared. A dark shadow silhouetted against the bright security light. It took Vera a moment to recognize Holly. Lucas released Lizzie and lunged at the newcomer; the thin blade of the knife reflected the light and then disappeared, buried into Holly’s clothing. Or into her body. Someone was screaming, and it took Vera a moment to realize the sound came from her own voice. Panic pushed her on. She’d almost reached the group, when Holly kicked out with her feet. Lucas fell to the ground, his face in the sodden leaves, and Holly was sitting on top of him, twisting the knife from his grip. Lizzie Redhead started running away through the trees.
‘Stop her!’ Holly’s face was white in the unnatural light. Vera looked for blood, but saw none.
‘Never mind Lizzie bloody Redhead. Joe’ll get her. Did he hit you?’
Holly seemed not to hear. Am I really here? Vera thought. Or am I some sort of ghost? Invisible and completely powerless. Can they all manage fine without me?
She helped Holly pull Lucas to his feet.
‘I’m fine,’ Holly said. ‘A scratch.’
Lucas looked up at Vera. Even with his face smeared with mud, he managed to turn on the automatic smile. There was still the need to be believed. ‘Inspector, please don’t be misled. Did you see what happened? These young women assaulted me.’
‘Is that what happened when you were a prison officer?’ Vera was still panting after the run, still shaking with anxiety, and she couldn’t stop herself. ‘All those lads you abused in the detention centre. Had they assaulted you too?’
She was aware of footsteps to her right and saw Joe Ashworth making his way from the drive. He had grabbed Lizzie by the arm and was pulling her after him.
‘Read him his rights and get back up, then take him to the station, Holly.’ Vera felt suddenly very tired. ‘Joe, get Lizzie to her parents. They’re in Gilswick. If not there, then back at the house. I’m going back to Valley Farm to tell this man’s wife that her husband’s a triple-murderer.’ She thought it was the least she could do.
Chapter Forty-Six
Vera found Lorraine in her studio at the back of the house. She was working at an easel and an anglepoise lamp shone straight onto the painting. Lorraine looked up as Vera walked in. ‘Is it over?’