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“A specialist team was set up to search for missing children. Two had disappeared before David, but no bodies were ever recovered. From what I’ve read, there were no clues as to who’d abducted them.”
“I can see I’m making you uncomfortable. I’m just concerned.”
Gardener glanced around the room. His eyes came to rest upon the portrait above the fireplace.
“A member of your family?”
“Good grief, no,” Jacqueline smiled. “It’s Alexandru Ioan Cuza, elected prince of the United Principalities of Moldavia and Wallachia in January 1859. I think.”
“You’re very proud of your heritage.”
“Almost everything I own has been hand-made and passed down from my grandmother. I seem to have inherited her taste for traditional Romanian furniture, most of which I have in my bedroom.”
“I wondered about the surname.” He changed topics. “You’ve not put up your Christmas decorations yet.”
“No. I really should make the effort, particularly this year. I have my aunt coming to stay with me.”
“Is this her first visit?”
“No, we spend Christmas together every year. I went to her last year. It’s her turn to come to me.”
“What about your parents?”
“My mother died when I was ten years old. Breast cancer.”
“It seems we have something in common. Your father?”
“I haven’t seen him for years.”
“Looks like I’m making you uncomfortable now.” Gardener checked his watch. He finished his tea and rose from the chair. “I must be going. Thanks for the tea. I’ve enjoyed our chat. Maybe I’ll see you again.”
“I hope so. Before you go, may I ask another question?”
“Go ahead.”
“Why the hat?”
He smiled. “I’ll tell you another time.”
As Gardener left, Jacqueline couldn’t help but think he had been distracted in her company. She suspected part of the problem was David’s funeral.
Once again, village life in the close-knit community of Churchaven had been rocked to its foundations. David had been the third child to disappear.
After the first – a girl – had gone missing, parents had been unsettled by the possibility their child could be next. For a while, they had closely monitored the security of the children.
Their guard eventually slipped, despite the culprit still being at large.
A second child disappeared, another girl. Her school bag had been found on wasteland a week later, her purse inside still containing her dinner money.
The Residents’ Association called an emergency meeting in the village hall, which had been chaired by a volatile member of the community. He was intent on inciting the gathering to take the law into their own hands.
Jacqueline had observed the tumultuous emotions of her fear-stricken neighbours see-saw out of control. She envisaged the birth of a vigilante force set on hunting down the depraved killer. She remembered seeing a police presence. At least half a dozen officers had shown up to answer questions, offer advice, and generally bolster the confidence of the parents that they were doing everything they could to find their missing children.
Jacqueline thought about the harrowing trauma David must have been subjected to in the
kidnapper’s hands. What kind of a person was capable of such a despicable act?
Could it be someone from her own parish?
