Page 47 of Glasshouses

“She was barefoot so it would’ve taken longer, and she was drunk.” I thought about teenaged Lily, racing away from the place that should’ve been the safest for her. Whether she had started the fire or not, she’d still been a victim.

“Were her feet injured? This ground’s full of holes and dips, and full of rocks – the soles of her feet would’ve been filthy and shredded.”

“I haven’t seen anything about that, just that she was barefoot.” The more I thought about the original case, the more I was perplexed by it. Basic investigative details were missing, such as considering other suspects, looking into the background of Lily’s parents. From what I’d looked through, The Holding was mentioned once.

We slowed down to a quick walk, the June sun beginning to hang lower in the sky and the air felt cooler. The track became wider and firmer, leading to a gap in a stone wall and onto a road that scooped around a grassy area with a couple of benches and a well in the middle. The church was set back off the road, the grass in front of it overgrown and wild, a few gravestones poking their head over the tops. It was typical for the area; the red brick of the city having given way to the stone that hinted we were closer to Derbyshire than the memories of the Haçienda. Small and fairly squat, it was rectangular in its shape and lacking decorative features. Once upon a time it would’ve served its community, providing support, charity and judgment in equal measures. Now the windows looked fragile, dead behind the eyes, and the door was secured with a steel bar.

“I have a thing for old buildings.” I headed along the stone path towards the entrance, noticing flattened grass, probably from an animal.

“I’ve noticed. You could take on this church as your next project.” He was close behind me, alert and looking everywhere.

“Pass. Although I’d like to have a look in there. The graveyard is round the back; that’s where the mausoleum is that she was found next to.” I headed round the church and found what had been a walled cemetery, small and full, with graves and monuments covered in moss and lichen. The air was damp, trees forming canopies over some of the graves, the odd stone half toppling because of tree roots or badgers.

There was only one mausoleum in the graveyard, once white and grand, now splattered with green and yellow lichens, its wooden door weather worn. I ran over to it, my feet bouncing off plump moss, the smell of degrading leaves and soil waking me up more than any coffee. The steps outside the door were sheltered somewhat by the roof, and Lily would’ve been small enough to squeeze up close to the door. I sat down there, the coolness of the stone against my bare skin making me shiver.

Footsteps crunching on leaves became audible and I braced myself just in case it wasn’t Taz, standing up quickly.

“Mia - ” he stopped a few feet away. “You look like you were about to punch me.”

“I was, if it wasn’t you. This is where the police found her.”

“Why the fuck would she come here? It was February, wasn’t it?”

“It’s the first place you get to if you run across the fields from her house. I think it’s geography and nothing else. Look.” I pointed to a large gap in the stone wall at the top corner of the churchyard. “I bet she came in through there.” I set off, slaloming around gravestones, Taz looking around some more before following.

He caught me up easily, the ground underfoot difficult to run on, soft and unpredictable, tree roots like tripwires.

“Were you planning to come here by yourself tonight?” he said. It was dark here, tall trees and bushes, oaks and silver birches and thick layers of forest mulch.

“Yes.” I knew what he was getting at.

“Did you not think that was a bit risky?”

“No. I’m a copper and I train in Muay Thai. And I’m quick.”

He muttered something but I couldn’t make it out.

“Is this trail running too hard for you?” He’d fallen behind me by a few feet.

“I’ve run across worse. I’m keeping an ear out for anyone else. This place is like something from a horror film.”

“It’s just because you’re too far away from town. Your brain can’t process it.” I stumbled slightly as something fluttered overhead, probably an owl or a crow.

My unrequested running mate of course found it funny. “Jumpy much?”

I slowed, waiting for Taz to catch up. “I wasn’t expecting it,” I sounded grouchy but I couldn’t help smile. “I am used to running in remote places.”

“Anglesey?”

“How did you know?”

Another shrug. “I can do research too.”

A deep hoot echoed from my right but I didn’t flinch, picking up the pace again, thoughts racing, about Lily, about Taz, about my father. I tried not to think about him because he wasn’t worth the memory space, but every so often he’d either send someone connected with him to pop up, or something would nudge a recollection of him.

I stopped, abruptly, breathing more rapidly.

“You okay?” He’d sped up, nowhere near as out of breath as I was.