Cemetery lake

It does, in a weird kind of way. ‘Did you keep in touch with Father Julian?’


‘In the beginning, of course, but after I met Michael I didn’t really want to involve Stewart in my life any more. He seemed to understand. Then the day Rachel turned sixteen he stopped the payments and I didn’t ask him why, because I knew. Sixteen was the cut-off date. I never saw him over those years. If it wasn’t for my mother, well…’

‘He presided over your mother’s funeral?’

‘My mother had continued to go to his church. It’s what she would have wanted.’

‘Your mother didn’t know who the father was?’

“I refused to tell her.’

‘So Father Julian, he saw Rachel that day?’

She takes another sip of water, and when she pulls the glass back she seems to be studying the edge, looking for some microscopic flaw.

‘He saw her. Then a week later she goes missing. That’s the connection, isn’t it? That’s why you’re here. If I had told Rachel he was her father, would things be different now? Is that the reason she’s dead? Because I took her to my mother’s funeral?’

I know what answer she wants to hear, but I can’t offer it to

her.

‘Do you know if Father Julian ever had any other children?’

I ask.

‘It’s my fault,’ she says, and she starts to cry.

I clutch my glass of water, unsure whether to sit next to her, whether to put a hand on her shoulder and try to comfort her. ‘None of this is your fault,’ I say, and it sounds generic because that’s exactly what it is. ‘But please, this is important. Did Father Julian have any other children?’

She leans back and stares at me. ‘Other children? I… I never really thought about it. He could have, I suppose. But I doubt it.’

“How did he get the money to send you?’

‘I… I don’t know. But Father Julian is … I mean was a good man. He would have done what it took.’

I pull the rest of the photographs out of my pocket and hand them over to her.

‘There are names on the back,’ I say.

She looks through them but doesn’t recognise any of them.

‘There is no way these can all be his children,’ she says, but I think she knows there is a way. I think she can see the resemblances ‘These payments he made to you, they were credited directly into your account?’

‘Of course. It was the only way’

‘Do you still have any of the statements?’

‘I… I suppose I do,’ she says, and I’m sure she does. I’m sure Patricia Tyler is the sort never to have thrown away anything from the last thirty years.

‘Would you mind finding me one?’

‘Why?’

‘Because if I can get his bank account number, then if he did father any other children I can find their names.’

‘Do you think …’ She pauses, unwilling or unsure how to

continue. ‘Do you think all these girls who died … do you really think they’re related?’

I hold her gaze. She stares right at me and I tell her yes. She pulls her hand to her mouth as if to hold it closed from whatever she wants to say next.

‘Then you already know who these girls are,’ she says. ‘They’ve been identified.’

‘Not all of them.’

‘What?’

‘There are five girls in these pictures.’

‘Five? Oh,’ she says, and she gets it immediately. She gets that there is one more girl out there who I need to find. “I know where they are,’ she says, and she disappears for a few minutes before returning with a bank statement from five years ago.

‘It’s the last payment he made,’ she tells me.

I look at the statement. It doesn’t have Julian’s name on it. Just his account number, along with the word ‘Rachel’.

‘Can I take this?’

‘Of course.’

I finish off my water and she walks me to the door. ‘The police, are they close to finding who killed him?’ she asks.

‘They’re getting there.’

‘But you’re getting there quicker, aren’t you.’

‘Yes.’

‘Can you promise me something?’ she asks.

“I’ll do my best,’ I say, already knowing what she is going to ask.

‘Promise me you’ll find him before something happens to that other girl. Promise me that when you find him, you’ll make him pay for what he has done. For Rachel. For the others. For all of us. Make him pay, and make sure he can never hurt another girl ever again.’





chapter forty-six


‘What the fuck do you want?’

‘Your help,’ I say.

‘You’ve got to be kidding.’

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