Another eight steps down and scrambling across the last two uneven stones to get to the little ledge below made her realise that if Scarlett and Janey had been brought here then the person carrying them or leading them had to have been strong. She wouldn’t risk going down this path in the dark, when the rocks were slippery with the damp mist swirling around, and had a sinking feeling she had been completely wrong about this, but at least she’d checked them out and would know one way or the other if they had been here. She might be too reckless and stupid for her own good, but nobody could say she wasn’t thorough.
FORTY-FOUR
The tiny village of Buttermere was a place of picturesque, secluded beauty. It was much more peaceful than Windermere, which was a tourist haven and always packed full of visitors.
Cain had jumped in the van with the response officers and a couple of PCSOs instead of the one with Marc, Claire, Amber and Brett. He stared at his view of the village through the window and thought he could live here. There was the lake to swim in on a warm summer’s day; there were wild swimmers out there now, he could see their heads bobbing about even though it was freezing. That was dedication for you. He would only get in the icy water if he was burning to death on the hottest day of the year.
They had driven past a pub and parked opposite a café, which made his stomach groan loudly just thinking about a sausage and egg muffin. St James’s church stood on a little rocky outcrop that looked down onto the village. It was beautiful if not compact. He’d only been inside it once with Angela when they’d come to walk around the lake on a warm summer’s evening last year. His heart ached for her and he felt tears prick at his eyes. They had gone inside to see the memorial to the author Alfred Wainwright, who had loved this area so much his asheshad been scattered on nearby Haystacks. Angela had announced that she’d like to do the Wainwrights this year, and he’d agreed because he wanted to make her happy, not because he liked walking.
Everyone jumped out of the van except for him; he needed a minute to get himself together. They were doing house-to-house enquiries in the village because the teenagers had spent time here hanging around and they wanted to check if anyone had seen them recently. When he got out and slammed the door, the noise echoed around the valley and everyone turned to stare at him. He smiled, it looked as if the village had been invaded by a giant swarm of fluorescent bees with all the cops and PCSOs standing around in a semi-circle, waiting to be given their orders from Marc, who was loving it. He was wearing a high-vis jacket over his suit, and Cain wished Morgan was here so he could tell her what a dick Marc looked. He realised that Morgan was supposed to be here and scanned everyone to see if she was. Where had she snuck off to, the sneaky bugger? She hadn’t told him she wasn’t coming with them, and he took out his phone to ring her but saw that he had no signal and sighed. Beautiful it might be, but getting a phone or internet signal was no easy task, and he didn’t know if he could live without either of those two things in his life, or an actual late-night takeaway either; and just like that, his dream of an idyllic life was burst with a huge bang.
He strolled as close as he could tolerate listening to Marc’s voice again. He was loving being in charge, strutting around like a peacock, and he wondered if he was trying to impress Claire. Cain wished Ben had argued a little more about coming here instead of agreeing to stay in the office. He pulled his phone out and messaged Morgan, hoping that somehow by the grace of God it would get through to her.
Hey, you little sneak. Where the hell are you and why did you not take me with you? I’m stuck listening to the boss drone on in the middle of the village with no signal or you to keep me company. You’re selfish Brookes! Xx
He was staring at his phone, waiting for the message to show it had been delivered.
‘Cain, are you listening or playingCandy Crush?’ Marc’s voice grated on his last nerve and he looked up.
‘PlayingCandy Crush, boss.’
Everyone sniggered, and Marc looked pissed. ‘Can you go speak to the staff at the café and pub, please?’
He nodded. ‘On my own?’
‘Do you need company for that particular line of enquiries?’
‘No, I’m saying I’m quite capable of going on my own. As are the rest of you, they’re all grown-ups, they can do house to house without holding each other’s hands. We’re not in the middle of The Bronx, we’re in a picturesque village, and the quicker we do this, the quicker we can get back.’ Cain’s gaze met Marc’s and he wished he’d captured his current expression on camera to send to Morgan, to prove how much he’d just annoyed their boss without even trying.
‘Yes, rightly so,’ answered Claire, who began handing out flyers with photos of Scarlett and Janey on them. ‘Let’s split up and we can, as Cain just suggested, cover the whole area a lot faster.’
‘Are we asking if they know about the watcher?’ asked Cain as he took a flyer from Claire. He dared not look at Marc in case he decided to throttle him in public.
‘I don’t know, what do you think, Claire?’ Marc’s voice was calm, but Cain knew he was furious with him. He didn’t care.
‘I think we could ask if they know of any local legends, maybe don’t ask about him specifically, and see if anyone volunteersthat information or reacts oddly.’ She smiled at Cain, and he shrugged.
Before anyone continued speaking, he strolled off in the direction of The Inn, clutching his sheet of paper. He knocked on the door. It opened and he smiled at the woman who had a mop in one hand.
‘We’re not open yet.’
‘I know, I’m with the police.’ He pointed towards the vans.
‘Oh, is there a problem?’
‘Yes, we’re searching for two missing women.’
‘Is this to do with the awful murder near to the old summer camp and the missing girls?’
‘Yes, what do you know about it?’
‘Just what I’ve read and watched on the news and read on the internet.’
‘You have internet?’ The minute he said that, he realised he shouldn’t have. It wasn’t relevant and made him sound like a dweeb.
‘Sometimes, depending on the weather or if the internet providers think we deserve to know who Sharon on Facebook has fallen out with this week.’
He smiled. ‘Have you seen either of the two women in the area?’ He thrust the paper towards her.
