‘Then, you track down the other people who were in the restaurant that night. Someone will remember me.’
He’s probably right. ‘That won’t be easy.’
‘Of course it won’t. If it were easy, the police would have done it.’
She gets to her feet. ‘I’ll serve you better, I think, by finding the computer the killer used to cyber-stalk those women.’
His eyebrows lift. ‘How would you even begin?’
She takes a step away from the table, just to show willing to the hovering guard. ‘I already have,’ she says, as she turns on her heels.
After a few more seconds, he calls her back. ‘Another thing.’
She stops. ‘What?’
He raises his voice, to reach her across the distance she’s travelled. ‘I need you to find Daisy.’
Chapter 48
From the office of
MAGGIE ROSE
The Rectory, Norton Stown, Somerset
Friday, 18 December 2015
Dear Hamish,
Thank you for your time today. As soon as I can tidy away a few ongoing jobs, I’ll put resources into a) Zoe, b) your alibi in the restaurant, c) the computer and d) Odi.
None of these tasks will be easy, and naturally I’ll report back anything concrete. In the meantime, we should establish a correspondence and I will visit from time to time. Getting to know you, as a person, is an important part of what I do.
In the interest of complete honesty, I can see no point in looking for Daisy. It will take up an enormous amount of time and serve no purpose.
One other thing. Please don’t, again, indulge in speculation about how the three women were lured into caves. Others might take it seriously. Others might not spot, as I did, that two of the victims thought they were meeting other women, rendering your romantic notions of being lured to see ancient wedding rings by a handsome man so much nonsense.
I appreciate your confidence in me. Do please let me know if there is anything you need.
Best wishes,
Maggie
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
From the office of
MAGGIE ROSE
The Rectory, Norton Stown, Somerset
Sunday, 20 December 2015
Dear Hamish,
Something of the world outside?
This morning, I walked by the Bristol Channel, on the beach where I first met your dog. (And your mother!) I went early, shortly after sunrise. Snow clouds hung heavy and low (they made their way north-west to Wales and missed us completely) and as the sun got higher they seemed almost to burst with gold light, while the sky behind them was the deepest and most perfect shade of violet. The tide was high, the waves were rapid and noisy. Along the length of the beach these little waves were breaking on the pebbles several hundred times a second and all the while the colour of the rising sun was spreading out across the world.
Usually, I walk up the cliff but today, something made me find the shelter of a bank and sit and watch the sun coming up. It was beautiful. And yet . . . I think I know now why you have a dog. And why you miss her so much. There are times when the need for another beating heart is hard to bear.
Maggie
PS. Don’t dismiss the computer. Killers keep trophies. Maybe our killer still scrolls through the conversations he had with his victims, reliving the moments he knew he’d reeled them in.
PPS. I’m really not happy about your seeing DS Weston without me. I just hope you’re very careful about what you say to him.
Chapter 51
THE WIND IS never still here. Even on the hottest of days, sea-scented breezes will wash over the moor, soothing the burnt grasses. On cooler days, the wind on Black Down, the tallest hill in the Mendips, will dance like a dervish, whirling around walkers, racing alongside runners.
Wolfe is a runner, a lone one, because it’s early in the day and the shadows are still long, throwing black stripes across the bracken. Later, a steady stream of ramblers will make their way up to the Bronze Age site that sits on the very peak of the Down but for now, it is just him, the plovers, the grouse and the occasional hare. He treads on a bramble and the sweet smell of crushed blackberry just manages to catch him before he moves out of reach.
As he reaches Beacon Batch the whispers of the long-entombed dead call up to him.
Faster, Hamish, faster. Something’s coming and you need to run now.
Run, Hamish, run, it’s hard on your heels.
‘Wolfe! Visitor.’
Wolfe opens his eyes. Phil lies on his bunk, half-heartedly making a blue-and-gold paper chain. Soon he will sink back into the half-sleeping, half-waking doze in which so many offenders spend most of their hours inside. When he’s not watching repeats of Grange Hill, that is. He has long since grown bored of Wolfe’s workouts.
The door to the cell is open and an officer is looking in with no surprise on his face. Wolfe slows to a jog and looks at the clock. He has been running for forty minutes. He aims for an hour, each day. Then twenty minutes of press-ups, sit-ups, chins and squats.
‘Wolfe! I won’t tell you again.’