Have you heard from Neil today, Vicar? said Scott.
No, I havent. And he said hed be here to help me work on the churchyard.
Good old Neil.
Scott walked up to the oak pulpit and smoothed the pulpit cloth with his hand. Alton wished he wouldnt touch anything, but he held his peace.
I phoned Philip and he called at Neils house, but hes not at home. Do you know where Neil is, Scott?
No idea.
Scott walked back down the aisle of the church, slapping the ends of the pews again as he went. Alton listened to Scott go out into the porch. He needed to make sure that the young man had left. He knew that the big oak outer door would close with a painfully loud slam, as it always did.
A thud shook the church as Scott Oxley slammed the door. Layers of dust danced on the window ledges. But the stained-glass picture of St Asaph didnt shatter. It wasnt the time. Not yet.
5
Sarah Renshaw looked as though she hadnt combed her hair that morning. She had a perm several weeks old, but it was springing out in all the wrong directions, like a burst mattress. Her plaid skirt was covered in dog hairs, and her shoes had dried mud clinging to the edges of the soles.
Also, her eyes were bright and her face looked unnaturally flushed. In a younger person, Diane Fry would have suspected alcohol or substance abuse. With a woman of Mrs Renshaws age, her first thought was the menopause. Hot flushes and irrational behaviour thats what the menopause offered.
Fry shuddered a little as she experienced one of those moments when the future poked its unpleasant face into her mind and leered at her.
Gavin Murfin had been chattering cheerfully to the Renshaws as he brought them upstairs. Fry had been able to hear him all the way along the corridor, telling them little jokes about the difficulties of getting good detectives these days. As they came nearer, Murfin had been explaining that after he had done twelve years in CID, his reward would be that hed get sent back on the beat, because twelve years was the maximum tenure for a detective constable.
Of course, they dont call it being on the beat any more, he said. They call it core policing. Thats because everyone says Cor blimey, not this bloody lark again.
Murfin had ushered the Renshaws in and pulled a face at Fry over their shoulders. She realized he had simply been filling the silence with words to avoid having the Renshaws talk to him. It was quite clear that Sarah and Howard Renshaw were more than happy to discuss their daughter. But it felt so odd that they talked about her in the present tense. It clashed with the conviction that Fry was already forming in her own mind.
Emma had phoned us just the day before, to say shed be home on the Thursday afternoon, said Mrs Renshaw. Shes always very good about phoning us.
Yes.
But she never arrived. We thought shed changed her mind, or that something had come up in Birmingham. We couldnt get through to her on her mobile, because it was switched off. So we rang the house where she lives during the term, and the girl she shares with told us shed gone home for Easter. But she hadnt gone home. She never arrived.
No.
We rang the police in Birmingham, but they werent interested, said Mrs Renshaw.
It was Smethwick, said her husband. The local station.
Howard Renshaw was a big man, well padded, like a businessman who had eaten too many lunches. His hair was a little too long for the image, but at least he combed it away from his bald patch rather than trying to hide it. He looked neater than his wife, as if he took more care over his appearance. But he sat back in his chair, slightly behind Sarah, to let her take centre stage.
Anyway, they werent interested, said Sarah. They said she was an adult, and it was up to her what she did. Unless we had evidence that a crime had been committed, there was nothing they could do.
I dont think thats quite right, said Fry. She was a young woman under the age of twenty-one. Enquiries are always made in those circumstances.
Mrs Renshaw shook her head briefly, as if bothered by a small fly. So we went to the house ourselves. Number 360B, Darlaston Road, Bearwood. We had to get the landlord to open Emmas room, because all the tenants have their own individual keys. One of Emmas bags was gone, and some clothes she must have packed to bring home with her.
What about personal items? A purse? Car keys?
She had a couple of shoulder bags, and those little rucksack things, so I couldnt tell which she was planning to carry with her. But her purse wasnt there with her credit cards, or her keys.
She has a car, but she decided not to take it to the West Midlands with her, said Howard. The cars still in our garage. Its an Audi.
Its only two years old, said Sarah.
But if she had her purse, some money, her credit cards
We know. The police said she could have gone away somewhere, if she had money with her.
Im afraid it happens all the time, Mrs Renshaw. In a city full of students, the police will have a lot of similar cases to deal with every year.
Emmas at the Birmingham School of Art and Design, said Sarah, as if that were somehow different from being just a student. Shes studying for a BA in Fine Art. Shes particularly interested in Marketing Design. In fact, she should have had a placement last year, but shes missed it now. Its going to be very difficult for her to catch up.
Emmas very talented, you know, said Howard. You must see some of her work. We have all kinds of things in the house. Some of them are pieces we brought back home from her room at Bearwood work shed done during term time.
She wouldnt want those to be lost, said Sarah. There are some pieces that she hasnt finished yet.
Not finished yet? Diane Fry looked hard at the couple. Hope was one thing but did the Renshaws genuinely believe their daughter would turn up tomorrow, or the day after, to finish her latest design project or take her Audi for a run?
She watched Sarah Renshaw turn towards her husband. They exchanged a meaningful glance and a little private smile, as if there were no one else in the room.
We made our own posters, said Howard. My brother had them done for us at his office. Have you seen this girl? they said. We put them up in newsagents and at the students union, and at all the places she went to in Birmingham and the Black Country. Some of them werent the nicest of places, you know bars and clubs, not the sort of establishment we would go in normally, or expect Emma to, either. But shes a student, and they live a different life. We understand that.
Shes an art student, of course, said Sarah. Theyre allowed to be a little Bohemian, arent they?
But no one had seen her?
No.
Mr and Mrs Renshaw, you know that the West Midlands police did make some enquiries at the time.
Oh, yes? But what sort of enquiries? We expected them to be going door to door, doing fingertip searches. Helicopters with thermal cameras. All the things we see on the TV news when other peoples children go missing. They didnt do any of that. We kept complaining. We spoke to an inspector several times. We went to the local newspapers to expose the shortcomings of the police. But it didnt do us any good. They just thought we were a nuisance.
For children, some of those things would be done. But Emma was nineteen. And, as I say
it happens all the time. Yes, we know. Hundreds of young people go missing every year, and nearly all of them turn up again unharmed. Weve been told that. But none of those are our daughter.
I realize it must have been very difficult for you. A difficult thing to live with.
Difficult? Do you know, we panic if we ever get separated in a crowd, or if it ever feels as though weve lost each other. Until its happened to you, its impossible to understand that sense of suddenly losing a person that belongs to you. Its like being cut off from something you were part of. Its the sort of fear that can take a hold on you completely, on your entire life. I dont think well ever lose that feeling, either of us. Not until we find Emma.
What sort of mood had Emma seemed to be in up to that point?
Mood? Well, her usual sort of mood, I suppose.
We all know there are a lot of pressures on young people at university, said Fry. Sometimes its very difficult for them, being away from home, and worrying about being short of money, as well as having all the exams and things. I wondered if you thought she might have been worried or depressed about anything?
Nothing in particular. Not that you could put your finger on.
I see. But being away from home, being short of money, doing exams Youre right, it is a lot for them to cope with. Sometimes an emotional complication can be the last straw.
The Renshaws looked at her in slight puzzlement.
A boyfriend, said Fry. I wonder if she had a problem with a boyfriend?
We dont know.
Perhaps there was somebody she was due to meet that night, that Thursday. Something could have happened to upset her. She could have had an argument with a boyfriend. Dont her housemates know who she might have been seeing?
Mrs Renshaw shook her head. Her friends say there was nobody special just a group of college friends. Both male and female, we gather. They used to meet up for a drink at a local pub, or go into Birmingham for the evening, that kind of thing. Unless Emma had a headache and didnt feel like going out.
Did she suffer from headaches a lot?
Now and then. She said it was stress. She found some of the assignments and exams a bit stressful.
Did she ever see a doctor about her headaches?
Not so far as we know.
Or about the stress?
We dont think so.
Stress can be a difficult thing to cope with, for young people living away from home. It isnt a good idea to bottle it up.
Even as she said it, Fry knew it was a particularly useless piece of advice. Not bottling it up involved having someone you could talk to about things like that. She couldnt follow the advice herself, and wouldnt have appreciated being given it. But the Renshaws took it well.
She wouldnt talk to us about it much, but there was another girl in the house, Debbie. They were very friendly.
How many people shared this house?
Four.
So the other two were boys?
Yes.
Were you happy with that arrangement?
We trust Emma, said Sarah. Besides, we know Alex Dearden. Hes a nice boy we had no worries on that score.
Fry waited for one of them to say the same about Neil Granger, but they didnt. Instead, the Renshaws glanced at each other again, passing some hidden message.
I understand Emma knew both of the boys from an early age, said Fry.
They both lived in Withens as children, so they went to the same school.
So both Alex Dearden and Neil Granger were old friends of Emmas. You knew them both well, and you were happy for your daughter to be sharing a house with them.
We know them both, said Howard.
A set-up like that could be enough to cause stress in itself, in some circumstances.
I dont think Emma found it a problem. She is a very well-balanced girl.
Apart from the stress she suffered because of the work and the exams.
Yes.
Mr Renshaw had been listening to his wife carefully. Now he looked at Fry. She isnt the sort of girl to kill herself, he said. Were quite sure of that.
Oh, quite sure, agreed his wife.
Thank you. Fry sighed. She had noticed that every time she slipped up and used the past tense in referring to Emma, one of the Renshaws corrected her gently.
You realize theres no reason why she shouldnt come back, said Sarah.
Its been over two years now, Mrs Renshaw.
But theres no reason why she shouldnt come back.
Howard Renshaw leaned forward with a smile, trying to look like a helpful intermediary, ready to calm the situation and smooth over the sudden tension.
There are plenty of young people who go missing for long periods of time, he said helpfully.
Yes, I know, Mr Renshaw, said Fry.
And many of them turn up again, safe and sound sometimes after several years.
Yes.
And you know perfectly well that the police enquiries at the time found no evidence of a crime.
No, said Fry.
But Howard Renshaw was sharp enough to catch her hesitation.
At least, thats what they told us, he said, suddenly fixing her with an accusing stare.
Theres some new evidence, said Fry.
Evidence?
Im afraid Emmas mobile phone has been found.
Where? said Howard immediately.
In woodland a little way outside Chapel-en-le-Frith.
Can you tell us exactly?
Id rather not at the moment, sir. Obviously, we want to examine the area thoroughly before we come to any conclusions.
Sarah Renshaw was smiling. Well, that explains why we were never able to contact her, if she had lost her mobile phone. I suppose it was stolen.
Well, its possible, said Fry. But there could be other interpretations. Were keeping our options open.
What are you saying?
Fry could hear the rising note in Sarah Renshaws voice, and she began to feel uneasy. She was aware of Gavin Murfin shuffling on his chair next to her, as if he wanted to get up and leave the room.
Im not trying to upset you, Mrs Renshaw. Its just that were going to have to look at the circumstances again, and
And what?
Sarah Renshaw was getting flushed. Fry desperately cast around for something to calm her down. She looked at Mr Renshaw, hoping for his placatory intermediary act right now. It didnt come. But Sarah calmed herself with her own thoughts.
I lit a candle the night she didnt come home, she said. Theres been a candle burning for her ever since.
Fry nodded, not knowing what to say, and decided to say nothing.
I need to make some initial enquiries, she said, but then Id like to come and see you at home, if thats all right. Perhaps tomorrow.
Tomorrow afternoon, said Sarah. That would be fine.
Will you be talking to Emmas friends again? asked Howard.
Yes. I plan to start with Alex Dearden and Neil Granger.
Alex is a nice young man, said Sarah. I hope that he and Emma might get together some day.