gunwale. Wexford didn’t know if he was the one he’d talked to on the Brede or someone different. Everything was so wet, everything dripping and spraying, that he couldn’t tell if the cold drop he felt on his cheek was renewed rain or a splash from a stone Burden had kicked into the water. But it was soon followed by another and another, a shower of splashes, and the rain began in earnest, threatening to drench them. They waded back to the car. Wexford’s cellphone was ringing.
‘Freeborn wants to see me.’ Sir James Freeborn was the Assistant Chief Constable. ‘He sounded thrilled to bits that we were down here “watching the operations”, as he put it. I wonder why.’
He was soon told. Freeborn was waiting for him in Wexford’s office. This was what he always did when he came to Kingsmarkham rather than summoning the Chief Inspector to Headquarters at Myringham. There was nothing private in the office and Wexford wasn’t one of those men who keep photographs of his wife and children on his desk, yet Freeborn was always to be found seated in Wexford’s chair, looking into Wexford’s computer and once, when the Chief Inspector returned rather sooner than expected, with his nose and a hand in one of the desk drawers. This time he wasn’t sitting down but standing at the window, contemplating in the dying light and through the fine misty rain, the sheets of water that lay this side of Cheriton Forest.
‘Makes it look like Switzerland,’ he remarked, still gazing.
Coniferous forest and a lake . . . Well, perhaps, a little. ‘Does it, sir? ‘What did you want to see me about?’
In order to see him, Freeborn was obliged to turn round, which he did ponderously. ‘Sit,’ he said, and took Wexford’s own seat himself. The chair on this side wasn’t quite big enough for Wexford’s bulk but he had no choice and settled himself uneasily. ‘Those children and that woman are somewhere under all that.’ Freeborn waved impatiently at the window. ‘Here or in the Brede Valley. They have to be. Finding that, er, garment, clinched things, didn’t it?’
‘I don’t think so. That, I believe, is what Joanna Troy wants us to think.’
‘Really? You’ve evidence to show that Miss Troy is an abductor of children, have you? Possibly a child murderer?’
‘No, sir, I haven’t. But there’s absolutely no evidence of any of the three of them entering the water, still less drowning. And in any case, where’s the car?’
‘Under the water too,’ said Freeborn. ‘I’ve been to Framhurst myself, I’ve seen how the floods have engulfed the road there. There’s a steep drop from that road into the valley - or there was. They were all out in the car, the water was rising and she tried to drive through it. The car went over and down the incline with them all in it. Straightforward.’
Then how did the T-shirt find its way into the water between the Kingsbrook Bridge and the weir, a distance of at least three miles? If it’s a possibility the bodies are still there, that Subaqua haven’t yet found them, they could hardly have failed to find a car. And the water didn’t begin to rise until late Saturday night, so this trip in the car, presumably to view the floods, couldn’t have taken place until Sunday morning, more probably Sunday afternoon. In that case why didn’t Giles Dade go to church as he always did? Why did his sister wear a dark, anonymous-looking jacket when she had a new yellow one she loved?
Wexford knew it would be useless to say any of this. ‘I still think there’s some point in trying to trace these people, sir. I believe they all left the house on Saturday evening before the floods started.’
‘On what grounds?’
He could imagine Freeborn’s face if he said, ‘Because Giles didn’t go to church.’ He wasn’t going to say it but, anyway, Freeborn didn’t give him a chance. ‘I want you to call off the
‘Freeborn wants to see me.’ Sir James Freeborn was the Assistant Chief Constable. ‘He sounded thrilled to bits that we were down here “watching the operations”, as he put it. I wonder why.’
He was soon told. Freeborn was waiting for him in Wexford’s office. This was what he always did when he came to Kingsmarkham rather than summoning the Chief Inspector to Headquarters at Myringham. There was nothing private in the office and Wexford wasn’t one of those men who keep photographs of his wife and children on his desk, yet Freeborn was always to be found seated in Wexford’s chair, looking into Wexford’s computer and once, when the Chief Inspector returned rather sooner than expected, with his nose and a hand in one of the desk drawers. This time he wasn’t sitting down but standing at the window, contemplating in the dying light and through the fine misty rain, the sheets of water that lay this side of Cheriton Forest.
‘Makes it look like Switzerland,’ he remarked, still gazing.
Coniferous forest and a lake . . . Well, perhaps, a little. ‘Does it, sir? ‘What did you want to see me about?’
In order to see him, Freeborn was obliged to turn round, which he did ponderously. ‘Sit,’ he said, and took Wexford’s own seat himself. The chair on this side wasn’t quite big enough for Wexford’s bulk but he had no choice and settled himself uneasily. ‘Those children and that woman are somewhere under all that.’ Freeborn waved impatiently at the window. ‘Here or in the Brede Valley. They have to be. Finding that, er, garment, clinched things, didn’t it?’
‘I don’t think so. That, I believe, is what Joanna Troy wants us to think.’
‘Really? You’ve evidence to show that Miss Troy is an abductor of children, have you? Possibly a child murderer?’
‘No, sir, I haven’t. But there’s absolutely no evidence of any of the three of them entering the water, still less drowning. And in any case, where’s the car?’
‘Under the water too,’ said Freeborn. ‘I’ve been to Framhurst myself, I’ve seen how the floods have engulfed the road there. There’s a steep drop from that road into the valley - or there was. They were all out in the car, the water was rising and she tried to drive through it. The car went over and down the incline with them all in it. Straightforward.’
Then how did the T-shirt find its way into the water between the Kingsbrook Bridge and the weir, a distance of at least three miles? If it’s a possibility the bodies are still there, that Subaqua haven’t yet found them, they could hardly have failed to find a car. And the water didn’t begin to rise until late Saturday night, so this trip in the car, presumably to view the floods, couldn’t have taken place until Sunday morning, more probably Sunday afternoon. In that case why didn’t Giles Dade go to church as he always did? Why did his sister wear a dark, anonymous-looking jacket when she had a new yellow one she loved?
Wexford knew it would be useless to say any of this. ‘I still think there’s some point in trying to trace these people, sir. I believe they all left the house on Saturday evening before the floods started.’
‘On what grounds?’
He could imagine Freeborn’s face if he said, ‘Because Giles didn’t go to church.’ He wasn’t going to say it but, anyway, Freeborn didn’t give him a chance. ‘I want you to call off the
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