Astrid parked a few yards from the Church house. At first glance, the street appeared empty, but there was no telling how many morbid onlookers might be hanging around the bushes for a sight of the sister of the alleged child murderer. She got her phone and brought up the research she’d saved earlier. Outside, a slight drizzle peppered the car. She didn’t mind the rain. It would probably keep the tourists away.
Elm Street was nearby, and the irony of the name wasn’t lost on her. She ignored it and rechecked the details. There were two dozen houses there, twelve on either side, from number one at the top to twenty-four at the bottom, the Church house. She brought up the list of occupiers she’d found in the land registry. The Glick family wasn’t on it. Their house was on the street parallel to Elm.
Astrid zipped up her jacket and stepped into the rain. The droplets caressed her skin and settled her thoughts. She walked down Elm Street to the end. Once there, she turned right and into Maple Street. The Glick house was halfway down, but she didn’t go to it, her gaze following the route from the house and then towards the trees. She switched back on to Elm, but there was no access to the woods at that end. The only way in was down the path separating the Church house and number twenty-two next door.
She rechecked the details on her phone. Number twenty-two belonged to Mr and Mrs Range. She gave Maple Street a last look, and then headed up to that track. The rain increased from a trickle to more of a drum beat. She trudged through expanding puddles and reached the Church house after a few minutes. A dark cat ran across her route, dodging her as she splashed between the houses. When she neared the rear of the Church property and the dirt track into the trees began, she gazed at the basement where somebody had murdered the sisters.
The wind swept her hair across her face as she strode uphill towards the woods. She pushed the damp from her eyes. If the weather had been this bad on that day, she was sure the girls would have stayed at home. But who knew they regularly played in the trees looming ahead of her?
She stopped halfway up, turning around to observe the landscape. The back of the Church house reared up in front of her, its dark shadow casting a chill over everything. She glanced over the other homes. Either the killer had stumbled across the girls up there, or they knew they’d be in the woods that night.
Astrid reached into her mind, searching through the maps stored there, maps she’d used over the years as answers to difficult situations. It was a process she’d started as a kid to escape from the realities of her life. Those early maps always led her to a Disney Castle of joy and hope. Now, new ones formed in her head as she continued to the edge of the trees. She’d walked at a steady pace, probably quicker than the girls did that night, but they could have run. And the descent was likely faster than getting into the woods.
The walk was between three and four minutes. Why didn’t somebody see them as they came down? Was it too dark? Unless someone stood along the path she’d taken, it was only from the houses on that side anyone would have seen the girls or what happened to them. Unless they hid inside the woods and peered down, but that was another issue. The police would have interviewed all the residents, so perhaps they did have some eyewitness reports. Hudson or Hicks, she couldn’t remember which, had hinted at having more incriminating evidence against Adam, so perhaps that was it: witnesses from one or more of Adam’s neighbours. She’d have to knock on all the doors when she got back down.
She picked up her pace and found shelter from the elements under the trees. She closed her eyes and remembered what it was like to be full of youth and innocence, imagined the Glick girls playing on this spot: Kay and Martha. Martha was the older, ten to her sister’s nine years. Even as young kids, they’d have known their parents wouldn’t want them in the woods on their own. They must have realised how dangerous it could be, especially once it got dark. And they definitely would have listened to warnings about talking to strangers.
She couldn’t see any way the girls would leave the woods, go down the hill, enter the house, and then the basement with a stranger. They would have screamed blue murder. And if they had, some residents would have heard, and the police would be swamped with witnesses. It left her with only one conclusion. The murderer was someone the girls felt safe with.
Astrid peered through the trees, through the elements, and down at the houses. It had to be somebody who lived on that street, who had access to the Church house.
‘Somebody with access to Evie’s key?’
She listened to the words drifting between the wind and the rain. She’d spoken them out loud to judge how likely that was. And it didn’t seem likely at all. They would have to be a staff member at the home to have an opportunity to get that key, use it, then return it, and all without Evie noticing. It would take a lot of lucky breaks for that to happen.
No. Astrid was convinced it was an Elm Street resident who killed the Glick girls.
But murder wasn’t the motivation. The killer hated Adam Church.
So why would someone hate him that much to do all of this? He must have made enemies somewhere, either at his work or through the S&M meetings. She needed to speak to Evie again, to delve deeper into their secrets. And then quiz Adam.
Whoever killed the Glick girls did it to get back at the Church family.