Exactly when Coran and Haines jumped ship no one seemed able to establish but, as the coastguard pointed out to the rather irritated sergeant, they hadn’t actually been under arrest and it hadn’t been until after they had reached port that the police had made the link between Haines and his Williams alias.
‘You’ve still got the rest of them,’ the coastguard said cheerfully. ‘Half a dozen miscreants is not a bad haul for one night.’
Honour was partly restored by the news that a warrant had been issued. The boat would be searched and, after tonight’s shenanigans, both the coastguard and the sergeant agreed that something interesting was bound to turn up.
Mac received the news of the loss of Haines and Coran just as he was getting the remnants of the Martin household installed in the hotel.
‘Oh, it’s lovely, Mac.’ Bethany was enchanted. ‘Do you think they have a piano?’ she asked again.
‘I think it’s a bit late to play tonight,’ Mac said gently, as it was actually around three in the morning by now, ‘but I’m sure if you have a chat to the receptionist in the morning they’ll be able to sort something out.’
She nodded happily and went off with the Montmorency brothers to find their rooms.
Mac took the opportunity to call Hill House again.
‘Has the patrol car arrived yet?’ he asked a bleary Cheryl.
‘No, they’re apparently on the way. I’ve checked all the locks. Look, how worried should I be?’
‘Hopefully, not very. I’m just covering all bases. Look, check on George for me, will you?’
‘Already done. He’s fine, but yes, just for you I’ll check again.’
Cheryl made her way back up the main staircase. The light was always left on at night, just a single bulb but enough to make sure no one stumbled on the stairs, and anyway some of the kids were nervous of the dark. A tall window gave a view on to the rear garden and the cliff path. She stood at the side of the window, looking out, but the rain driving heavily against the pane made it hard to see.
She heard George’s door open and the boy padded down the steps to join her. ‘See anything?’
‘You should be asleep.’
‘I can’t sleep.’ He took up position on the other side of the window. ‘It’d be better if we switched the light off,’ he pointed out.
‘I suppose it would,’ she said. ‘It just feels, I don’t know, a bit scary if I do that.’
George looked at her in some surprise. ‘You’re frightened?’
‘I’m only human, you know.’ She smiled at him. ‘OK, since you’re here, you switch the light out and we’ll take a quick look, then put it back on.’
‘OK.’ George took up position beside the switch. ‘Ready?’
‘Yeah. Go.’
He flicked the switch and then came back to the window. Gusting wind hurled rain at them again, then dropped momentarily, allowing a brief gap in the wash of water. Was that something? George could not be sure. He pressed his nose closer to the glass, aware that Cheryl was doing the same and together they peered fearfully out into the sodden night.
Something moved. ‘It’s probably just an animal,’ Cheryl whispered.
‘You saw it too? It looked too big to be a fox.’
‘What’s that?’
George looked but couldn’t see. Then a beam of light cut across the glass and Cheryl sighed with relief. ‘That must be the patrol car coming up the drive. The lights hit the glass when it comes round the bend.’
George nodded, he leapt to switch on the landing light and then ran down the stairs.
‘Don’t open the door,’ Cheryl warned. ‘Not until we know for sure.’
George had no intention of doing so. He stared through the glass panel in the big front doors, the blue neon absurdly reassuring and the sight of the uniformed officer slamming his door and running across the drive added another level of comfort. A second could be seen inside the car.
What if they’re not real? George thought. What if they’re impostors?
But Cheryl had already opened the door and George heard the young officer talk about DI McGregor who had sent them to keep watch. He asked if there was anything to report.
George felt relief flood through him. Until that moment he had not understood how scared and tense he had been.
Haines’s men arrived at Peverill Lodge about a half-hour after the residents had left. Gaining access through the rear, the three moved cautiously into the hall, surprised to find the lights on this late into the night.
It was soon clear that there was no one home. They called Haines.
‘Muddy footprints in the hall, sodden clothes left in the bathroom that match what she was wearing. The girl was here but there’s no one now. Looks like they’ve done a flit.’
‘Find them,’ Haines said but reason told him Stan would have hidden the girl somewhere and then gone after the twins. He’d already increased the guard on the house. He was confident that Stan would be playing a losing game should he follow that particular course of action and once Stan Holden had been taken, he’d take great pleasure in administering his retribution.
Haines pondered on what he should have done with the twins. Goldman might still be of use and the girls still have some value as leverage. No hurry and while Stan had some cause to try and rescue, he would still be in play and Haines knew he wouldn’t want to attract the attention of the authorities. Vaguely, Haines wondered where Coran had gone. He’d seen him last just as they came into port, then Haines had taken the opportunity to disappear and Coran had apparently done the same.
Randall had been received by the custody sergeant and his belongings catalogued and signed for. He had said very little, cooperated only as far as was necessary, demanded legal counsel and been told that his lawyer would be contacted. It was an innocent request, the custody sergeant thought, that he be allowed to call home and tell his wife where he was. She would be worrying.
The call was made, Randall taken to his cell.
When Kendal arrived some fifteen minutes later and handed Roger Goldman over to be booked in, he checked the log on Randall.
‘He’s been no trouble,’ the sergeant told him. ‘Asked for his lawyer.’
‘And the phone call?’
‘Just a message to his wife. Tell her where he was. He said she’d be worried.’ He shrugged, wondering what his boss was bothered about. Such calls were normal enough.
‘According to Mr Randall,’ DI Kendal told him, ‘his wife is away, in France. She wouldn’t know if he was here or in Timbuktu.’
He had men already en route to Randall’s place. He called them now.
‘It’s on fire, guv. The place is an inferno. A neighbour a half-mile down the road called the fire brigade, he reckons he saw three cars leave just before he saw the flames.’
Kendal swore. Goldman’s testimony was even more vital now and he’d say nothing more until the twins were found.
What if they’d been at Randall’s house? Was that possible?
Kendal closed his eyes and hoped it wasn’t so.