now, but at the time I just didn’t think about it.”
“No, I don’t imagine you did.”
They continued walking in silence, until Carlyle called a halt midway along the ridge. Before setting off from the rendezvous, he had split the group into two: a small number had taken a track leading below the ridge, to liaise with SOCO, while the bulk of the party had followed him onto the upper moors to scour for any evidence of the woman’s route or that of her assailant, and for any structure in which she might have been held.
The instant everyone was assembled, Carlyle whipped out his map and proceeded to re-divide the remaining group.
“You, you, and you.”
The three men he’d indicated looked across at him, bottles of water and half-eaten snacks poised at their lips.
“I want you to cover this sector,” he told them. “See? I’ve marked it A1 on your plan.”
They nodded slowly, one of them mopping his face with his T-shirt. They were all in their fifties and looked worn out before they had even started.
Nelson bowed his head and whispered directly into Sanne’s ear. “It’s no wonder he’s so loved. His people skills are second to none.” Carlyle was still pointing his finger at officers and volunteers, getting them to shuffle into an order based on their designated grid references.
Sanne smiled, but her focus was on her own map. “Sensible thing to do would be to head over here, to Gillot Tor.” She kept her voice quiet, so that only Nelson could hear her. “It’s a little beyond our boundary, but there are caves marked all along its lower section, on the same elevation as us. There are caves here at Laddaw, too, but they’re down at the base of the cliffs, and Meg said the woman’s injuries were consistent with a fall from height. If she was trying to get to safety, why would she run up onto the ridge?”
“She wouldn’t,” Nelson said. Then, before she could stop him, he raised his hand and his voice. “Sarge?”
Carlyle looked over in irritation. “What is it, Turay?”
“Are the cavers going to Gillot Tor today?”
The question seemed to wrong-foot Carlyle. He fumbled with his notes, flicking the pages so quickly that they snagged on the wire spiral at the top. “No. They’ll be here around Laddaw, today and probably tomorrow. There’s a number of potholes leading into limestone caves, about half a mile back that way.” He pointed in the direction from which they had just approached. “I spoke with DI Stanhope last night, and she agreed that in all probability the perp took the woman up onto the ridge and pushed her over the edge. If the cavers find evidence to confirm she was held nearby, we can abandon the wider search.” He gave Nelson a look that a parent might give a particularly stupid child. “Besides which, as you can see, Gillot Tor is not within the specified parameters.”
“No,” Nelson said. “It’s all of a mile outside them.”
Carlyle misinterpreted the sarcastic response as acquiescence. “You and Jensen are to lead a small group through sectors C3, 4, and 5, and I think that will just about cover it.”
“What about you, Sarge?” one of the officers called out. “Your name on that list anywhere?”
Carlyle closed his notepad and slipped it back into his rucksack. “I’m going to lead the fingertip search at the cliff base where the woman was found. Apparently, there’s a path down from here that will save me from having to re-enact Detective Jensen’s heroic climb.”
His announcement was greeted with muted catcalls and a general air of disbelief, which he ignored as he settled his bag on his back and drank from a canteen of water. Sanne contemplated the vast area he had delegated to her and Nelson, and wondered at what point he had realised their task was insurmountable. Had he already been hatching a plot to abandon them as he walked up here? Or was it only on arriving at the ridge that he had decided to switch his own efforts to a search
“No, I don’t imagine you did.”
They continued walking in silence, until Carlyle called a halt midway along the ridge. Before setting off from the rendezvous, he had split the group into two: a small number had taken a track leading below the ridge, to liaise with SOCO, while the bulk of the party had followed him onto the upper moors to scour for any evidence of the woman’s route or that of her assailant, and for any structure in which she might have been held.
The instant everyone was assembled, Carlyle whipped out his map and proceeded to re-divide the remaining group.
“You, you, and you.”
The three men he’d indicated looked across at him, bottles of water and half-eaten snacks poised at their lips.
“I want you to cover this sector,” he told them. “See? I’ve marked it A1 on your plan.”
They nodded slowly, one of them mopping his face with his T-shirt. They were all in their fifties and looked worn out before they had even started.
Nelson bowed his head and whispered directly into Sanne’s ear. “It’s no wonder he’s so loved. His people skills are second to none.” Carlyle was still pointing his finger at officers and volunteers, getting them to shuffle into an order based on their designated grid references.
Sanne smiled, but her focus was on her own map. “Sensible thing to do would be to head over here, to Gillot Tor.” She kept her voice quiet, so that only Nelson could hear her. “It’s a little beyond our boundary, but there are caves marked all along its lower section, on the same elevation as us. There are caves here at Laddaw, too, but they’re down at the base of the cliffs, and Meg said the woman’s injuries were consistent with a fall from height. If she was trying to get to safety, why would she run up onto the ridge?”
“She wouldn’t,” Nelson said. Then, before she could stop him, he raised his hand and his voice. “Sarge?”
Carlyle looked over in irritation. “What is it, Turay?”
“Are the cavers going to Gillot Tor today?”
The question seemed to wrong-foot Carlyle. He fumbled with his notes, flicking the pages so quickly that they snagged on the wire spiral at the top. “No. They’ll be here around Laddaw, today and probably tomorrow. There’s a number of potholes leading into limestone caves, about half a mile back that way.” He pointed in the direction from which they had just approached. “I spoke with DI Stanhope last night, and she agreed that in all probability the perp took the woman up onto the ridge and pushed her over the edge. If the cavers find evidence to confirm she was held nearby, we can abandon the wider search.” He gave Nelson a look that a parent might give a particularly stupid child. “Besides which, as you can see, Gillot Tor is not within the specified parameters.”
“No,” Nelson said. “It’s all of a mile outside them.”
Carlyle misinterpreted the sarcastic response as acquiescence. “You and Jensen are to lead a small group through sectors C3, 4, and 5, and I think that will just about cover it.”
“What about you, Sarge?” one of the officers called out. “Your name on that list anywhere?”
Carlyle closed his notepad and slipped it back into his rucksack. “I’m going to lead the fingertip search at the cliff base where the woman was found. Apparently, there’s a path down from here that will save me from having to re-enact Detective Jensen’s heroic climb.”
His announcement was greeted with muted catcalls and a general air of disbelief, which he ignored as he settled his bag on his back and drank from a canteen of water. Sanne contemplated the vast area he had delegated to her and Nelson, and wondered at what point he had realised their task was insurmountable. Had he already been hatching a plot to abandon them as he walked up here? Or was it only on arriving at the ridge that he had decided to switch his own efforts to a search
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