Gideon closed his eyes. It was just for a second – long enough to catch his breath. Then he fixed on Daz a look he knew could threaten twenty-five-to-life in Dartmoor jail. “This is not your fault,” he growled. “It’s mine, and the fault of all the people who were meant to look after you and Lorna Kemp. But I swear to you, Darren Prowse, if you don’t tell me what happened that night, you’llwishyou only had the Beast of Bodmin to worry about.”
“It were Joe,” Darren croaked. “Joe Kemp. He told me not to let Lorna go home after we’d been playing on the moor. He said to bring her back here instead, but not to let my mam or dad know.”
Deliberately Gideon relaxed the muscles that wanted to clamp his hands around this kid’s neck and choke the truth from him. “Lorna was in this house? She came back here?”
“Yeah. It were easy. She stops here all the time, don’t she? So she weren’t scared. I just told her her mam had said for her to come here and sleep over. My ma was away, and – ”
Gideon swung to face Bill. “And your dad didn’t notice he had an extra kid that night?”
“He were passed out drunk in that chair! I could’ve brought home six of her.”
Mrs P gave a squawk. She reached out and fetched Bill another slap. “You sot! That child was here in my house? I told you to watch them, you great lard-arsed – ”
“Enough,” Gideon said softly. “Right. She was here. Then what happened, Daz?”
“Nothing. She went to sleep in the back room like she always does when she’s here, and me and the others went to bed too.”
“And in the morning...”
“She were gone, that’s all. I thought she’d got up and walked home.”
“But nobody raised the alarm. Sarah Kemp didn’t call me till morning.”
“Joe told me he’d give her some story so she’d not be worried. And he got me by the neck of my jumper – like this...” Darren demonstrated vividly on himself. “And he said that when anyone asked me, I had to say Lorna started off home by herself that night. That the last time I saw her was on the moor. He paid me five quid.” Desperately the boy met Gideon’s eyes, a twisted scrap of pride flaring in him. “I wouldn’t have done it forthat. I tell you, when Ma Kemp came to the school all shrieking and crying and shaking me, I wouldn’t have done it for a hundred. But Joe said...”
“That the Beast of Bodmin would get you? For the love of God, Darren...” Gideon remembered his own panicked flight two nights before, and felt a twinge of hypocrisy. “How old are you?”
But Darren had turned white. His defiance and effort at swagger drained away, and he looked at Gideon with hollow eyes. “It were worse than that. He said hewerethe Beast, the monster. And on Halloween, if I’d told, he’d come for me.” His face crumpled. “And now I have, haven’t I? I’ve told.”
Gideon picked him up. He was small and skinny, and it was no effort to hoist himby the armpits across to Mrs Prowse. She opened her arms in a startled maternal reflex, and Daz, who’d been fighting off her embraces since he could walk, huddled up into her lap. “Look after him,” Gideon said fiercely. “Tell him there’s no bloody beast on Bodmin Moor. And as for Joe Kemp – he won’t hurt anyone either. Not after today.”
Chapter Nine
No time for shock, for the sickness of friendship betrayed, of a wolf in the fold for so long. No time for wonder, either, at what could have brought Joe to harm the family he’d adored since Alf Kemp left. During his short run to thepolice station, Gideon allowed himself only the businesslike reflection that Joe had done it well, set things up so that the search would start in the wrong place, and then, as more of the truth came out, blame would be cast on Bill Prowse. Bill was a good scapegoat – universally disliked, and a glance through the living-room window would have told Joe he was out for the count that night.
Gideon took the steps up to the station door in one. “Liz!” he barked, making her jump and drop herbiscuit into her tea. “Get me the number for Detective Inspector Kinver at Truro, the CID guy. Quick! And did you make that call to the school?”
“Yes, soon as you told me. What’s going on, Gid?”
“Never mind. Just get me... Is that it? Great. Ta.”
Gideon sat down. He made his call. This time he felt no alarm, no hesitation at bringing such big guns to bear on his little village case: Joe Kemp knew where the child was, andhe had to be found. The Truro inspector didn’t ask what had brought Gideon to this conclusion. Gideon was grateful, but not in the startled way of the day before when the search and K-9 men had come at his bidding. He’d served this community well. He was a reliable officer, and his word had been taken at its proper value. Reinforcements would be sent to him. A county-wide lookout alert would be set up at once for Joe. Dog handlers and a forensics team would be dispatched to the Prowse house.
Prows, windows, blue and green roses... There wasn’t time now to tell the inspector where the credit lay, but Gideon would rectify that as soon as he could. He asked for some men to be sent back to Wheal Catherine: nothing had been found there, but now Gideon couldn’t afford to leave any part of Lee’s vision untended.
Lee. Gideon hung up, absently taking the coffee Liz handed him. Lee had been right about everything so far. Gideon needed him here. He dialled his home number, stray memories of the odd call to James, their stilted conversations, bouncing off him and flying away. There was no answer. Maybe Lee was out with Isolde, or was hesitant to pick up the landline in his host’s home. That was the only contact Gideon had. He’d never foreseen that a day would come when he’d end up sharing body fluids with a man before exchanging mobile numbers, but there it was. “Liz,” he said, jumping to his feet. “I have to go get Lee Tyack. I’ll take the Rover after that and check Joe’s fields up by the crags. Radio me as soon as any of the guys from Truro arrive here, okay?”
***
The house was still and quiet. Gideon, breathless from his run up the lane, pushed open the living-room door. “Lee? You here?”
The dog trotted through to greet him. Normally she hurled herself at his knees with knock-down force, but there were lights in her eyes he’d never seen before, a new focus. He crouched down to her. “Is it yourfancy name, then, Isolde?” He rumpled her ears. “Where’s Lee?”
The kitchen was tidy. Their breakfast things had been washed and set to dry in the rack. Isolde had been taken for a good walk, to judge from her serenity and the pair of borrowed wellingtons by the back door, mud-stained and with extra socks inside them to make them fit. Gideon grinned. He did meet the traditional copper’s requirementof having great big feet. Isolde’s leash had been neatly hung on its hook. Briefly Gideon indulged a fantasy where Lee had heard him coming down the lane and run back upstairs to bed, where he was now waiting seductively.
He was a forthright soul, but Gideon didn’t think that was quite his style. He went up to have a look anyway. The stupid thing was that he’d have had to turn him down. He couldn’t believe that, after so many uneventful years, he had a lover to deal with on the same day as a child abductor. He looked around the bedroom. “Lee?”
The chair where Lee had set down his holdall was vacant. The pile of his clothes was gone. In the bathroom, only Gideon’s own spartan kit of washing and shaving gear stared back at him. The house was empty.
