There’s a woman waiting at the entrance to the manor house. Ben sees her as he navigates his car around the stone fountain and parks next to a racing green Jaguar on the gravel drive, its bonnet gleaming in the soft November sunshine. She stands by the huge wooden door, her bobbed ice-blonde hair tucked behind her ears, a camel-coloured cardigan drawn tightly around her slight frame.
He’s come straight from the woods, as soon as the station had radioed through about the reported missing girl, calling Chrissie en route in an attempt to placate her. It hadn’t worked. They’d had a terse conversation, Ben’s mind distracted and already racing ahead into the investigation. ‘Are you even listening?’ Chrissie had asked him, the hurt evident in her voice.
‘Sorry, yes.’
‘You left so early this morning. Is everything OK?’
‘Not really. It’s going to be a long day.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘I can’t say – not yet. Sorry.’ He’d gripped the steering wheel. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I guess.’
He could tell from her voice that she wasn’t. ‘Is this about last night?’
Chrissie had released a long sigh. ‘It’s just I had it all planned out. I thought Ellie might be a little happy for us, that it might bring us closer. Instead… well, the night didn’t go exactly how I’d hoped.’
‘She’ll come around. It’s a lot of change for Ellie.’ For all of us, he’d nearly added, stopping himself just in time.
‘You should’ve told Rachel “no”.’ A petulant note had entered Chrissie’s voice. ‘You let her walk all over you.’
Ben had felt torn. The previous night hadn’t gone how he’d imagined either and yes, he’d been annoyed with Rachel, too. He hadn’t wanted Ellie to leave any more than Chrissie had, but he’d seen how thrown his daughter was at their baby announcement, as much as she’d tried to hide it. He’d felt guilty about adding to Ellie’s emotional distress. He hadn’t liked to say as much to Chrissie, but secretly he’d wondered if it was Ellie who had phoned Rachel and asked her to make up an excuse, so that she could leave. He supposed he could’ve challenged her, but the sight of his daughter’s pale, tight face had made him think the kindest thing to do was to drop her back home to Rachel. To give her time.
‘I think we need to be patient with her. Listen, I can’t talk now,’ he’d said, watching as the ornate electric gates to Thornfield Manor slid open, a long gravel drive unfolding before him, ‘but I’ll speak to Rachel. I promise.’
Leaving the car, he heads towards the woman on the top step, his gaze sliding surreptitiously across the front of the imposing Georgian house rising behind her. Three storeys high, built in honeyed Bath stone, with thick branches of wisteria clinging to the facade. Everything in his eyeline screams money and status. It’s not often he gets called to a place like this.
‘DS Ben Chase from Avon & Somerset Police,’ he says, holding out a hand in greeting as he reaches the top step.
Her handshake is limp, a frown creasing her narrow face, worry visible in her blue eyes. ‘Philippa Easton. Come in, please.’ She turns and leads him into the vast entrance hall. ‘My husband and daughter are waiting in the library. This way.’
She walks with a stiff gait, he notices, a drag to her left foot, as if one of her neat leather loafers is slightly heavier than the other. He glimpses polished flagstones, a wall of painted family portraits, and a glass console table holding the biggest vase of lilies he’s ever seen. The flowers fill the space with a cloying scent. ‘This is us,’ she says, ushering him into a dark, book-lined room.
A tall man with a thatch of salt-and-pepper hair stands by the window, his back to the door. Nearby, curled onto a low-slung leather sofa, is a blonde girl, aged about sixteen or seventeen, Ben guesses. She looks up as he enters, wide-eyed and pale.
‘Goddammit,’ the man says, and Ben realises he’s talking into his mobile. ‘I thought the fence would keep them out. What sort of mess are we talking about?’
‘Dad,’ the girl says, pulling at his sleeve. ‘Dad, the police are here.’
The man holds up a finger to silence her, still listening intently to the voice down the line. ‘See that you do. No more delays, do you hear?’ He jabs at the phone to end the call then turns, his expression shifting in an instant from deep frustration to polite greeting at the sight of Ben. ‘Hello,’ he says, offering a firm handshake. ‘Christopher Easton. Thank you for coming.’ Ben sees the glimmer of recognition. ‘Have we…?’
Ben nods. ‘DS Ben Chase. We met at the town hall consultation last month.’ Ben thinks it politic to get any potential elephants in the room well and truly identified. ‘My daughter spoke up on behalf of the skateboarding community. The redhead,’ he adds.
‘Ah yes. The firecracker. I thought she spoke quite well, all things considered.’
Ben nods, bristling ever so slightly at the man’s condescending tone. He’d been proud of Ellie that night. She’d argued a strong case for the benefits of a dedicated skate park in Thorncombe. Not that it was going to do much good, by the look of things.
‘Forgive me,’ says Christopher smoothly, ‘I’m usually good with names but there were a lot of faces there that night. Quite the evening,’ he adds, with a hint of self-congratulation. He’s solidly built, broad shouldered and muscular, with the remnants of an expensive summer tan and a gold signet ring on his little finger. In his neatly pressed shirt and mother-of-pearl cufflinks, Ben recognises a man who takes pride in his appearance. ‘It was good to canvass local opinion and get everyone singing from the same hymn sheet,’ he adds.
Ben nods again, though his recollection of the meeting is a little different. The fiery session, hosted by Easton’s development company, had been an attempt to placate the local community over a proposed new housing development earmarked for a strip of countryside on the far edge of town. Personally, Ben had been on Ellie’s side. Thorncombe had already met its new housing targets and appeared to be struggling for infrastructure and services; there were complaints about pressures on the town’s schools, transport and health services. Though for a man like Christopher Easton, he imagines it’s quite easy to resign yourself to tearing up great swathes of countryside when you’re king of your own castle, surrounded by acres of private land. Not even the local conservation group seemed to hold much sway when it came to the town planning process. It appeared Christopher Easton was a man with friends in high places and enough cash to grease all the necessary palms.
‘You’ve already met Philippa, my wife.’ He nods at the blonde woman hovering at his side, then turns to the teenager. ‘And this is my daughter, Olivia.’
The girl is huddled on the sofa, swamped in a huge burgundy sweatshirt pulled low over her knees, bare feet sticking out from beneath. ‘Hello, Olivia,’ he says, throwing her a sympathetic look. ‘I’m DS Chase.’
She greets him with a quiet, ‘Hello.’ Ben sees the same olive skin as her father, the blonde hair and fine features of her mother; handsome rather than pretty.
‘Can I get you anything, DS Chase?’ asks Philippa, a strangely vacant look in her eyes. ‘Tea, coffee?’ She slips into the formal conventions of a social occasion.
‘No, thank you. Let’s get straight to it, shall we?’
Philippa lowers herself onto the arm of the sofa. Next to the bulk of her husband, she appears even more delicate and insubstantial, like a piece of paper ready to flutter to the floor. He flips open a notebook. ‘You’ve reported a teenage girl missing?’
‘Yes,’ says Christopher, taking control. ‘We discovered this morning that our niece, Sarah, hadn’t returned home from a party last night. We’re rather worried.’ He shoots a look in his daughter’s direction. ‘Home by midnight, we told the girls. We only realised Sarah hadn’t come home at all when Olivia went to wake her this morning and found her bed empty.’
Ben frowns. ‘Sarah is visiting you?’
‘No, Sarah lives with us. My sister, Diana, is a partner at an international law firm in Dubai. Sarah used to live out there too, but after her father passed away – cancer, very sad – Diana thought an English boarding school might be a good option. It was the girls’ – he gestures to his daughter – ‘who suggested she come here.’
Olivia brushes loose strands of hair from her face.
‘They’re very close,’ adds Philippa. ‘More like sisters than cousins.’
‘We agreed that Sarah could live with us while she finishes her education. She transferred to Olivia’s school for the start of Year Twelve. They’re day pupils. My sister, Diana, travels back and forth to visit, as much as she can.’
Ben mentally grapples with the family tree. ‘I see. So where is Sarah’s mother right now? Dubai?’
Christopher nods.
Olivia’s fingers are worrying the cuff on her burgundy sweatshirt. Ben spots the tower logo embroidered on the chest. He addresses Olivia with his next question. ‘You and Sarah both attend Folly View College?’
She nods.
‘What year?’
‘Thirteen.’
‘It’s a big year for you.’ He keeps his voice light, but inside, a hammer has begun to beat against his heart. It’s the same school – the same year – as Ellie, and the same school where Rachel works as Head of Student Welfare. If the girl in the woods is Sarah, Ben knows it’s going to impact everyone terribly, the noose of their investigation sliding a little tighter around their small community. ‘You might know my daughter, Ellie?’
‘I know her.’ Olivia tilts her head, her gaze silently assessing. ‘You look alike.’
‘I don’t think Ellie would be too pleased to hear you say that,’ Chase admits with a small smile. ‘So, you and Sarah attended a Halloween party last night?’
‘They said they were going to a friend’s house,’ Philippa chips in, clearly miffed. ‘Only it seems they weren’t quite telling the truth. Olivia, you explain.’
Olivia avoids his gaze, tugging a loose thread on her sleeve between her fingernails.
‘Where were you last night, Olivia?’ Ben’s voice is gentle. ‘You’re not in any trouble, but I do need to collect as much information as possible so that we can find Sarah.’
‘Tell DS Chase,’ urges Christopher.
Olivia’s voice, when it comes, is soft and tremulous. ‘We went to a party in the woods. At the old quarry.’
Ben nods. ‘How many people were there?’
‘I don’t know.’ She shrugs. ‘Fifteen. Twenty. Maybe a few more.’
‘All kids from your school?’
‘Mostly.’
‘And you spent the whole evening there? With Sarah?’
Olivia nods. ‘Until our curfew.’
‘When did you last see Sarah?’
‘I stayed until around 11.30pm. I was worried we’d get into trouble if we left any later.’ She glances at her mother. ‘I told Sarah we had to leave, but she wouldn’t come. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t exactly force her.’
‘Olivia walked home on her own!’ Christopher interjects, with a disapproving look.
‘But Sarah stayed behind?’ asks Ben, looking to Olivia for confirmation.
The girl nods. ‘She told me to go. Said she wanted to stay. So I came home alone.’
Ben glances at her parents. Philippa shrugs. ‘I was asleep in bed.’ She defers to her husband. ‘You were still up, weren’t you, Christopher?’
‘Yes. I heard Livvy come in as I was drifting off. I assumed it was both girls and fell asleep.’
‘Did you have any contact with Sarah after that point, Olivia?’
She nods. ‘Sarah still wasn’t home as I was getting into bed. We follow each other on that Find My Phone app, so I checked to see where she was.’
‘What time was that?’
‘About quarter to one.’
‘Could you see where she was?’
Olivia nods. ‘Still in the woods. I couldn’t believe it. I sent her a message. See?’
Olivia opens her mobile and angles the screen to show him a message on Snap, timed 00:49. What the hell Sarah! You must have a death wish.
‘You can see she’s read it,’ says Olivia. She points to the ‘opened’ status. ‘I waited up a bit longer, hoping she’d come home, or at least reply, but I guess I fell asleep.’ Olivia hangs her head.
Philippa rubs her daughter’s back. ‘You tried your best.’
‘This isn’t your fault,’ adds Christopher. ‘Sarah is being rather selfish, worrying us all like this.’
‘Does Sarah have a boyfriend?’
Olivia clears her throat. ‘She was seeing a boy at school—well, sort of. On and off.’
Christopher folds his arms across his chest, eyes narrowing. ‘Well, that’s news to us.’ He leans forward. ‘Who, Olivia? Why didn’t you mention it?’
‘It seemed more “off” than “on” last night. His name’s Danny Carlisle,’ she adds, glancing up at Ben. ‘He’s a boy in our year.’
Christopher sighs. ‘Right, now that Olivia’s finally thought to mention this Danny kid, we’ll try him next. We certainly don’t want to put you out, sergeant, or involve you in silly, teenage shenanigans. Sarah’s inconvenienced us quite enough already.’
‘You’re not putting us out, Mr Easton. A teenage girl hasn’t returned home. You did the right thing calling us. How did Sarah seem to you last night, Olivia? Anything out of the ordinary?’
Olivia frowns. ‘To be honest, she was being kind of annoying.’ She glances across at her parents. ‘She’d had a bit to drink and was showing off.’
‘Showing off how?’
‘Dancing. Flirting.’ Olivia’s cheeks flush pink.
‘She was in high spirits? Happy?’
Olivia nods.
‘Do you remember what she was wearing?’
‘Of course. It was fancy dress. Sarah went as Sally.’
Ben frowns. ‘Sally?’
‘Yeah. Sally in the Wood. You know’ – she glances up at him – ‘the ghost story about a local girl killed at the folly. Sarah thought it would be funny.’
A cold sensation runs through Ben. Sally. The folly. It was only a few hours ago that he’d been relaying the bare bones of the same story to DCI Khan. If that is Sarah lying dead at the top of the woods, what was this? A sick coincidence? Or something more sinister? He tries to focus. ‘What did Sarah’s “Sally” costume look like?’
‘She wore a white dress – a lacy thing. One of mine,’ she adds, and Ben glimpses a hint of irritation in her face, imagines teenage girls tussling over clothes. ‘We smudged black around her eyes to make her look like a ghost. She left her hair loose, and on the way to the party, she messed it up with leaves and twigs and stuff. She looked really creepy.’
Ben clears his throat. ‘Did she paint anything else onto her skin? Any other marks? Words, perhaps?’
He’s tried to ask the question casually, but Olivia looks startled at the suggestion. ‘Words? No.’
‘What about a mask?’
She shakes her head again. ‘Sarah’s costume was spooky enough without one.’
‘And Sarah definitely had a phone with her last night?’
Olivia nods. ‘She won’t go anywhere without it.’
‘Can you describe it for me?’
‘It’s an iPhone. In a rose gold case, personalised with her initials.’
‘That’s helpful, thank you. I’ll need the number.’
Christopher nods. ‘No problem. We’ve rung it several times, of course, but it’s going straight to voicemail.’
‘I looked on Find My Phone again this morning,’ adds Olivia, ‘but her battery must be dead. It just shows her “last seen” location in the woods.’
‘I know you were partying in the quarry last night, but what about the folly?’ he asks lightly. ‘Did any of you walk up through the woods to the tower?’
‘Not while I was there. We stayed near the bonfire and the music.’ As Olivia shifts on the sofa, his gaze catches on her bare feet and her toenails, painted a familiar hue: sugary pink with flecks of gold glitter catching the light. The heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach intensifies. He turns back to Christopher. ‘Has your sister, Diana, been notified of Sarah’s disappearance?’
Christopher and Philippa exchange a look. ‘We thought it best to wait until we’d spoken to you. We didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily. We thought Sarah might have… over-indulged. She could be sleeping off a hangover somewhere. Maybe she’s forgotten to call, or is stuck somewhere with a dead phone battery.’
‘It’s the most obvious explanation, don’t you think?’ Philippa is seeking reassurance. ‘I do hope we haven’t wasted your time.’
‘Not at all. I’ll need a recent photo of Sarah, if you have one?’
Christopher frowns. ‘Do you think that’s really nec—’
‘Yes,’ says Ben quickly. ‘It would be helpful.’
Philippa places a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. ‘Olivia, you girls are forever taking photos. Perhaps you have one of those “selfies” you could share with DS Chase?’
Olivia’s phone, as if on cue, chimes on the seat beside her. She picks it up and starts to scroll, leaving Ben to address her parents. ‘For my paperwork, can I confirm where you both were last night?’
‘Yes, of course,’ says Christopher. ‘As I already said, we were here at the house all evening.’
Ben waits.
‘I was tired last night,’ says Philippa. ‘I watched some TV then took myself to bed. I took a sleeping pill around 10pm.’
Ben gets the distinct impression from Christopher and Olivia’s carefully neutral expressions that Philippa Easton is well acquainted with her sleeping pill bottle.
She turns to her husband. ‘You were working in the study, weren’t you?’
Christopher nods. ‘Tying up loose ends. It’s crunch time for the development. We should’ve had the approvals wrapped up by now. Poor Livvy,’ he says, patting his daughter on the shoulder, ‘I’ve been rather distracted in recent days, haven’t I? We had to postpone our autumn half-term holiday,’ he explains to Ben, ‘but I’ve told her, as soon as this silly resistance settles down’ – he frowns – ‘I’ll be back in Dad mode.’
Ben nods. ‘So you were working at home last night. What time did you go to bed?’
‘Around 11.45pm and, as I said, I heard Olivia arrive home around midnight. I assumed it was both girls.’ He shakes his head. ‘I wish I’d checked now. Did you find a photo, Livvy?’
Olivia is staring at her phone; what little colour she had in her cheeks has drained to white.
‘Olivia?’ says Philippa. ‘Did you hear your father?’
Olivia ignores her mother and turns to Ben. ‘It’s from someone at the school,’ she says, a tremor in her voice. ‘She says there are police in the woods.’
Ben clears his throat. He’s been biding his time, hoping to break this news in a more sensitive way. ‘That’s right. I’m afraid we received a call earlier this morning about an incident in Thorncombe Woods.’
‘What kind of incident?’ Christopher asks, rising from his seat.
Ben eyes the man. ‘I’m sorry to tell you that the body of a young woman was discovered up at the folly in the early hours of this morning.’
Philippa’s hand flies to her mouth. Christopher bolts up from the sofa. ‘Good grief. You’re not suggesting…?’ His gaze darts to his wife then back to Ben.
Philippa’s face is aghast. She glances at her daughter. ‘Olivia, I think you should leave us.’
Olivia shakes her head. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Is it Sarah?’ Christopher is fixed on Ben.
Ben chooses his words carefully. ‘We haven’t been able to carry out formal identification yet, but I should ask you to prepare yourselves for the fact it could be.’
‘Christ.’ Christopher turns to look at his wife, startled. ‘What happened? Was there an accident?’
Flashes of the scene return to Ben. The carefully folded arms. The blood spatter across the girl’s chest. The grotesque mask laid over her smashed face. ‘We won’t know for certain until the forensics report is filed, but it doesn’t look that way. No.’
Olivia lets out a small whimper. Philippa reaches for her daughter’s hand, gripping it tightly in her own.
‘I’d advise you to phone your sister,’ he prompts Christopher. ‘Right away.’
Philippa leans against her husband and allows him to wrap one arm around her narrow shoulders, his other snaking about their daughter, so that the three of them sit huddled together. Watching them, Ben feels a heavy sensation settle in his chest. It’s never easy breaking news like this. He understands better than most the trauma he has just unleashed on this otherwise picture-perfect looking family. ‘Olivia,’ he says, ‘it would be helpful if you could draw up a list of everyone you remember attending the party in the woods last night.’
Olivia frowns. ‘I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. Not everyone was allowed off campus.’
‘She’ll do it,’ says Christopher.
‘One last thing.’ Ben opens his phone and swipes back to a photo he’d taken at the crime scene. ‘Could I ask if any of you recognise this?’ He angles his screen to show the close-up detail of the broken heart pendant hanging from a silver chain. Olivia lets out a sob.
‘Livvy,’ says Philippa, her voice cracking with emotion. ‘Show him.’
With trembling hands, Olivia reaches for a chain hidden beneath the neck of her sweatshirt, raising it so that Ben can see the dangling pendant: half a silver heart, a reverse match for the one in the photo. ‘Did you give the other half to Sarah?’ he asks gently.
Olivia’s eyes fill with tears. ‘No. Sarah gave it to me. A birthday gift.’ She turns and buries her face into her mother’s shoulder.
‘If you could forward me a photo of Sarah – text or email is fine…’ He lays his card on the coffee table between them. ‘I may need to request a DNA sample, too… hairbrush, toothbrush, that sort of thing.’ He trails off at the sight of their anguish. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have any news or further questions. But please, call Diana.’
Ben leaves them huddled in the library and retraces his steps back to the car. The recent clock change sees twilight already stealing down from the woods, wrapping Thornfield Manor in a bleak light as he slides into the driver’s seat and slams the door shut. He sits for a moment, staring out at the darkening world.
It’s the worst part of the job. Always. And this case feels closer than most. He’s not afraid to admit that he is shaken. Shaken that this has occurred in their sleepy, rural area. Shaken by the age of the girl in the woods – so young – potentially the same age and school year as Ellie. He feels for Olivia Easton. That silver broken heart emblem is lodged in his mind as he navigates back down the gravel drive. Something like this isn’t just going to affect a family. It’s going to rock their close-knit town. The fallout will cloak the whole community in suspicion and fear.
Remembering his earlier promise to Chrissie, he considers calling Rachel. He imagines driving onto the school campus and knocking on their cottage door, sitting at her kitchen table, talking through the awful details of the day. He has a strong urge to draw Ellie close – to warn his feisty, street-tough girl about the myriad of dangers out there. She still carries the naivety of youth, a belief that she can beat anyone and anything that comes her way. He knows she thinks him overprotective and fearful, but you don’t do a job like his for twenty years and remain oblivious to the fact that there are dangerous people out there, that it only takes a minute for lives to unravel. But turning up unannounced is not a good idea. It’s not as if he can divulge the details of this case to anyone – not yet. And it’s not as if he’d be welcome in Rachel’s home, even if he could.
Bone-tired and with Chrissie already upset with him, he can’t handle having it out with Rachel today, too. Not after this. He needs to keep a clear head for the case, because whatever happened up at the folly last night is the stuff of every parent’s worst nightmare. Until they work out what has happened and who is responsible, he can’t honestly say, hand on heart, that anyone is safe.