“That is your right,” Ravyn said. “Please bring Annie here.”
Stark stood. It was an easy, fluid movement, lacking any overt threat, yet it captured Treadwell’s attention. Treadwell was beefier, more muscled than Stark, but there was in Stark’s wiry frame a sense of latent menace, of hidden power, as in a compressed coil. Treadwell looked away, a dark flash of shame crossing his features. He might feel better, Stark thought, if he knew that even hardened East End lags had quailed before his laconic intimidation.
“All right then,” Treadwell said. “Have it your own way.”
“Sergeant Stark will accompany you, if you don’t mind,” Ravyn said.
“I do mind!”
“He will accompany you in any case.”
“Yes, sir.” Stark looked to Treadwell. “Let’s go. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get out of your hair.”
The balding man frowned at the mention of ‘hair,’ but merely jerked his head for Stark to follow. When they were gone, Ravyn stood and let his gaze sweep the room.
It was an ordered room. the knickknacks on level shelves were equidistant from each other. No chair was out of alignment with the room. The drapes hung absolutely straight, and when Ravyn checked he found little weights attached to their ends to keep them from swaying in the least bit. The silver-framed pictures on one half of the mantle mirrored those arranged on the other half.
“I hope you’re not looking for dust,” an elderly voice said. “Jimmy doesn’t allow dust to settle. He prohibits it.”
Ravyn turned and smiled without a trace of embarrassment or awkwardness. It was hardly the first time he had been caught snooping. The woman was in her eighties, wore a light blue dress and had silver hair beautifully coiffed. She moved with a lightness of step that escaped even his keen hearing.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” Ravyn said. “I’m…”
“I know who you are,” she said. “I heard you on the porch talking to Jimmy. I’m Gail Treadwell, Jimmy’s mother.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” he said. “Then, you also know why we’re here.”
She nodded. “I moved behind the stairs when Jimmy let you come in. I heard what you said about Annie’s friend.”
Gail Treadwell was, he thought, accustomed to walking softly around everyone, not merely inquisitive detective chief inspectors. It was a trait one might easily develop in a house where lawns were landscaped with mathematical precision, rooms decorated with rigid control, and where even dust was subject to the master’s rule.
“They are friends then?” Ravyn asked.
“Yes.” She looked to see they were still alone. “It’s true, what you said about Annie and Lisa. Annie doesn’t share their secrets, you know how girls are, but she told me they are very good friends. Of course, that’s not what Jimmy wants to hear, so he doesn’t. Has something happened to the poor…”
“Mother,” Treadwell said from the doorway.
Gail turned. “I was in the kitchen and thought I heard voices.”
“These men are policemen.”
“Oh?”
“There’s nothing to worry about, Mother,” Treadwell said. “I think you should go back to the kitchen and continue whatever you were doing before we disturbed you. Is Ella in the kitchen too?”
“Yes, James,” the old woman said. “Will the gentlemen be staying for tea?”
“No,” he said. “No they will not.”
A thin girl with long dark hair stood between Treadwell and Stark. She wore a dark long-sleeved blouse. A tartan skirt ended below the knees. The hem defied current fashion but no doubt adhered to parental dictates. She wore a light scarf. Her features were delicate, her eyes wide, glistening like pools of caramel. She wore no makeup, but Ravyn noticed a faint trace of mascara under her left eye. Treadwell’s hand rested on her right shoulder.
“Annie, this is DCI Ravyn,” Treadwell said.
“Hello, sir,” she said. “Have I done anything wrong?”
“No, nothing like that, Annie,” he said. “We merely want to ask you a few questions about Lisa Martin.”
Her lips parted slightly and she glanced at her father without moving her head. “Who? What did you say the name was?”
“I think it would be better if I spoke to Annie without you in the room, Mr Treadwell,” Ravyn said.
“Absolutely not!”
Stark gripped Treadwell’s shoulder, not hard, but hard enough. “I could use a cuppa, sir. How about you? Let’s go to the kitchen and see if we can impose upon your good wife.”
Flames blazed in Treadwell’s eyes. His anger, however, was mixed with quick flashes of fear and doubt.
“Besides, sir, I have a few questions for you and the missus.” Stark turned him gently and guided him out. The man’s hand finally slipped from Annie’s shoulder. “We can best do that in the kitchen, out of the chief inspector’s way.”
Gail Treadwell turned to follow.
“Would you mind remaining, Mrs Treadwell?”
The old woman stopped and turned back into the parlour. Her son also tried to turn back, but Stark kept him moving forward.
“I might have some questions about Midriven, as I am not very familiar with the area,” Ravyn said, a bit louder than was necessary. “I would value your assistance.”
“Certainly, Chief Inspector.”
Stark smiled, both at Ravyn’s words and at the way the little martinet trembled in his grasp. These bully-boys were all the same, he thought. When push came to shove, they backed down rather than get knocked down. He was worried about what might happen after they leave, and made a note to speak to the guv’nor about it.
“Besides, Annie, I thought you might feel a bit more at ease speaking to a stranger with your grandmother present,” Ravyn said, his voice softer. “Please be seated.”
Annie smiled vaguely. She moved forward, hesitated, looked at her grandmother, who nodded, then sat.
“It’s all right, Annie,” the woman said. “Mr Ravyn just wants to ask you some questions about Lisa. She’s gone missing.”
Annie’s hand flew to her mouth, but she said nothing. She sat on a divan facing Ravyn. Her grandmother sat beside her. She tried to take Annie’s pale hand in hers, but Annie pulled away.
Gail glanced at the empty doorway and corridor beyond, then looked at Ravyn. “Jimmy will be in a dark mood after this. He is not accustomed to not getting his way.”
“Are you fearful, Mrs Treadwell?”
“Please call me Gail,” she said. “I am wary of Jimmy because I know him, but I’m not afraid. Ella copes by bending to his will. Annie copes with her father and this whole family by being smarter than all of us. Isn’t that right, Annie.”
Annie shrugged. “What happened to Lisa?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Ravyn said. “Did you see her after school today?”
Annie nodded.
“Did you walk homeward with her?”
Again, Annie nodded.
“Along the high street?”
Annie hooked her hands together, the insides of her fingers against each other. She looked down. Her shoulders sagged.
“Annie, you must answer Mr Ravyn’s question.”
“I’m supposed to walk the high street.” Her voice was barely a whisper. Ravyn had to lean close to hear her. “Lisa too. That’s how we’re supposed to go home every day. It’s safer.”
“Did you walk that way today?”
Annie remained silent and motionless.
“Lisa never made it home, Annie,” Ravyn said. “Her mum let us know she was missing when she didn’t call. Lisa’s mum says she always calls when she’s going to be late. Do you know what happened? Do you know why she didn’t give her mum a bell?”
Annie leaned over further. She drew her linked hands till they pressed hard against her chest. Her shoulders began to shake. She sobbed deeply and silently.
Ravyn wanted to bridge the gap between them. He wanted to tell her e
verything was all right, that everything would be all right. He did not do so. He could not hug others, even for the best of reasons. Even if he could, he would be unable to tell her everything would work out for the best. He did not believe it himself.
Gail tried to pull the sobbing child to her, tried to hug her, but Annie resisted. “Get yourself under control so you can answer Mr Ravyn’s questions. Everything will be all right.”
The sobbing subsided. “It’s my fault.”
“What’s your fault?” Ravyn asked.
“Lisa wanted to come here, use our phone to call her mum.”
“You wouldn’t let her?”
“I thought my father might be home,” Annie said. “He does not like Lisa or her mum. He found out we were friends. He told me to avoid her. I couldn’t take the chance. She asked, I told her no, and she went on.” She was silent a moment. “I wanted to call after her, but I was afraid to. She went on. That was the last I saw of her.”
“Where was this, Annie?”
Annie stared down.
“It wasn’t on the high street, was it?”
The girl shook her head. “At Maple Walk.”
The grandmother gasped. “Annie!”
“Maple Walk where it comes out of Flintlock?” Ravyn asked.
Annie nodded.
“That was foolish, Annie. That road runs by Robbers Wood.” The old woman grew pale, her skin seeming for a moment almost transparent. She turned to Ravyn. “She was taken, Mr Ravyn. Lisa was taken by the Beast. It has awakened again, ravening for blood.”
“Annie, you must tell me what happened,” Ravyn said. “Tell me everything that happened until Lisa left you, step by step from the moment you left school. Leave out nothing, no matter how trivial it seemed at the time, or might seem now.”
The girl started to speak, then looked at Ravyn. “You won’t tell my father, will you?”
“The information will become part of the investigation,” Ravyn said. “However, I don’t ‘tell’ anybody anything, least of all people who have no business knowing.”
Annie looked to her grandmother.
“You know how your father is, dear,” Gail said. “No one can tell him anything, so I don’t. I haven’t for a long time.”
“We didn’t walk the high street, we rarely do,” Annie said. “My father has too many friends who keep a watch for me. Besides, Lisa wanted to…” She paused, looked down, then continued in a muted voice. “Lisa was upset because Miss Mitchell took away a note we were passing. It was…” She faltered.
“Yes, I’ve seen the note,” Ravyn said. “It was…droll.”
Annie smiled sadly. “Lisa’s hand isn’t much to look at, hard to read, but she draws well. Wants to be a fashion designer.”
“I’ve not seen Miss Mitchell,” Ravyn said, “but the caricature showed talent and a keen eye.”
“Lisa said she wasn’t worried about Miss Mitchell talking to her mother, but she was,” Annie said. “I was afraid she might tell my father, though all I did was get the note. When Lisa suggested going home by way of Flintlock, I was too upset to tell her no. I didn’t want to.” She shifted her gaze to her grandmother. “I wasn’t afraid of the old stories, but I don’t like the dark of the forest or the weirdoes in the cottages.”
“Weirdoes?” Ravyn was surprised by the Americanism. They were rare in the villages of Hammershire. He wondered if Annie might have picked it up from Lisa by way of Manchester or some magazine. “You mean the pensioners?”
Annie nodded. “Wrinklies.”
Gail Treadwell frowned, but remained silent.
“Why take Flintlock?” Ravyn asked. “There are other roads the two of you could have taken through the village.”
“Lisa wanted a fag and didn’t want anyone who mattered to see her smoke it.” She paused. “We shared it.”
“Annie, you know better,” Gail said. “And what if your father found out?”
“I didn’t like it,” Annie said. “But I couldn’t tell Lisa, could I? Anyway, it’s not like I inhaled much.”
“The cigarettes are from Roger Pym?” Ravyn asked.
Annie looked up in surprise. “He buys her a pack whenever she asks him to. I don’t know why.”
The tone of her denial indicated the presence of suspicions, but suspicions no amount of questioning would ever drag out of her.
“Let’s leave the matter of the cigarettes,” Ravyn suggested. “I need to know everything said and seen. Relax and recall.”
His hypnotic voice and familiar Hammershire accent demanded trust an outsider would have been denied. She told him all, almost all. She took him step by step from the school, past the old cottages; told him of the watcher in the woods and her last view of Lisa. As she recalled looking down Maple Walk, not seeing her friend, but knowing she was just around the corner, well within the sound of her voice, the girl felt a searing wave of guilt and shame. She fought the desire to weep. Opening her eyes, she saw Ravyn looking at her, not accusingly, but with sadness.
“That’s all I recall, sir,” she lied. She had not told him about Lisa hitting her, had not said why she so often provoked her friend to violence. “Please don’t ask for more.”
Ravyn nodded. “Tell me, do you really think someone was in the woods?”
Annie shrugged. “I didn’t see anyone, didn’t hear anything. But Lisa did, or believed she did.” A shuddering sigh escaped her lips. “If only I had let her come with me. If only I had not been so afraid. Do you think Lisa is dead?”
Ravyn paused before answering. It was not in his nature to lie, but he sometimes did. Annie’s eyes pled for a truth that could not possibly hurt her more than what she was already feeling.
“It’s possible, Annie,” he said. “At this time, though, no one knows. As long as there is a question, there is hope.”
The clouds of misery in her eyes did not part, but they did thin.
“Thank you, Annie,” Ravyn said. He stood, moved away, then turned back. “Will you be all right? I mean, here. If you ask me for help, I can take you somewhere safe. But you have to ask.”
“I understand,” Annie said. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll watch after her, Mr Ravyn,” Gail said. “Jimmy is a hard man, but there are lines he will not cross.”
Annie looked away from her grandmother.
Stark met him near the door. “Mr and Mrs Treadwell are still in the kitchen. He was uncooperative and she was afraid. Did you get any joy from the girl?”
Ravyn nodded. “I don’t like leaving Annie, but she would not ask for help. I can’t overstep the law.”
“As when you insisted on questioning Annie?”
“It was easy to see the only law he knew was his own; I played on his ignorance,” Ravyn said. “If I forced her to come with us, she would be sent back, and be in a worse situation.”
“If it helps,” Stark said, “I made it clear we’d be watching.”
“It might,” Ravyn said. “I hope so.”
They showed themselves out of the house on Water Street.
“Move all search parties to Robbers Wood and…” His mobile rang. “Ravyn”
Stark saw Ravyn’s face flush, first red with anger, then purple with rage. The sergeant stepped back. Never had he seen Ravyn in such a state. He had seen worry, fear, even confusion, but never such all encompassing wrath.
“Yes, I understand,” Ravyn said. “Thank you for calling.”
Stark was startled by the evenness of Ravyn’s tone. By degrees, Ravyn’s face returned to normal, the muscles of his neck relaxed.
“What is it, sir?” Stark asked. “What’s happened?”
“Billy Tremble happened.”
Stark frowned. “The Suffolk Ripper? What about him?”
“He escaped Irongate Prison..”
“Bloody hell!”
“Three days ago,” Ravyn added. “They kept it quiet to avoid a panic. They thought he was heading west; now they know he went eastward. Toward S
tafford.”
“Bloody hell,” Stark repeated.
“So, it seems there may be,” Ravyn said, “a beast in Robbers Wood after all.”
Chapter 4
Pub Tales
“That girl, she was taken by the Beast, mark my words, and she’ll only be the first dragged to the temple at the forest’s heart,” the old man announced, standing atop a table in the Ned Bly. “Only the first! Not the last! The Beast has awakened from its long slumber. It’s as the old stories tell you, the tales you heard at the hearthside from your grandmothers, and they from their grandmothers before them. The Beast has awakened from a sleep of centuries. Now that the stars are right it will prowl the streets of Midriven, searching for virgins to drag back to its lair.”
“Then it’ll die of hunger, won’t it?” Frankie Springer roared at his own wit. “Good luck finding a virgin in Midriven, Zoriah!”
“Aye!” Dennis Newmark clinked his glass against Frankie’s, uttered a braying laugh, and poured ale down his craw. “You’re a crazy old bugger, Zoriah Stoneman.”
“Blasphemers!” The old man levelled a bony forefinger at the two reprobates. “You will pay for your mockery. The Old Gods will punish your disbelief.”
“Now, now, you two boys quit egging the old nutter on,” said Morris Teype, landlord of the Ned Bly. “He’s bad enough already without the two of you getting up his nose.”
“The Beast shall feast upon blood!” the old man screamed.
“Oi!” Teype smacked his hand against the tabletop. The loud crack penetrated Old Stoneman’s frenetic haze. “You get down off that table afore you break your fool neck.”
“You have no authority over me,” Zoriah Stoneman declared. “I am Vicar of the Old Gods, Speaker of Holy Words, Keeper of Mysteries, Holder of…”
“Father, get down from there right now!”
The old man spun to face the newcomer, nearly falling off the table and onto Frankie in the process. During his rant, the old man seemed almost larger than life, a wild-haired, flame-eyed prophet come out of the wilderness to spew fire and brimstone, to proclaim destruction to a viperous generation. Now, staring down at a man in the dark apron of a grocer, the Vicar of the Old Gods, the Speaker of Holy Words and Keeper of Mysteries seemed to deflate, like a balloon with a slow leak.
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