Authors: Rhys Bowen

Evan's Gate (17 page)

BOOK: Evan's Gate

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“We’d get into trouble,” he said. “Your family wouldn’t let you go off alone with me. Your brother never lets you out of his sight.”

She wrinkled her little nose. “I know,” she said. “Let’s slip away when they’re playing their stupid castle game. Henry doesn’t worry about me so much when he wants to win. They’d just think we were hiding.” Her face lit up with anticipation, and she laughed again. “That would be such fun, wouldn’t it?”

Chapter 19

The woman who stepped off the train at Bangor station was thin to the point of looking haggard. She wore a smart navy suit and remarkably high heels. Her gray hair was swept back into a severe chignon, accentuating the thin face and high cheekbones. She stood, holding a weekend case, looking around with annoyance, then set out for the exit, the tap of her high heels echoing across the now-deserted platform.

“Ah, there you are.” Her voice betrayed her annoyance. “I thought nobody had come to meet me.”

Henry Bosley-Thomas stepped forward to take her bag. “Sorry, Mother, but they won’t let anyone onto the platform these days. Security, you know.”

“Bloody terrorists,” Mrs. Bosley-Thomas said. “We shouldn’t give in to them. If we change our lifestyles and let them know we’re afraid, then they’ve won, haven’t they? Where are the others?”

“We’re going to meet at a hotel in Bangor at noon,” Henry said. “We thought you’d probably not want to go to the farm.”

“No,” she said. “I most certainly wouldn’t want to go to the farm. Your father’s here, I take it?”

“We’re all here.”

“He hasn’t brought HER with him, has he?”

“No. He’s alone. I’m alone. We’re all alone. No spouses or hangers-on. Just family. You’ll be fine, Mother.”

“I hope so,” she said. “I really didn’t know what to think when Suzanne called to tell me the news. Not whether to be glad or sorry, I mean.”

“Surely it’s a relief to have found her. Not knowing was so hard.”

“I’m not sure.” She eased herself into the car as Henry held the door open for her, then sat, staring straight ahead until he got in beside her. “Of course I always hoped we’d find her and know what happened to her, but finding her like this—until now I had always convinced myself that she’d had a horrible accident, but now knowing that somebody buried her”—she put her handkerchief up to her mouth—“one can’t help wondering what he did to her before he buried her.”

“Don’t think about it, Mother. It’s too awful for words,” Henry said. “But they’ve got a forensic anthropologist working on it at the moment. Maybe at last they’ll find out who took her, and he’ll finally pay for what he’s put us through.”

She nodded, but didn’t speak. Then she collected herself and put the handkerchief away. “Of course, we don’t even know that it’s Sarah yet, do we? We can’t go jumping to conclusions. I hope this hotel has food. I had a most ghastly breakfast on the train. I’m sure they precooked the eggs and then warmed them in a microwave. I was absolutely horrified the way the standard of rail travel has gone down since privatization. You’d have thought private companies would know how to make a better job of it than British rail, wouldn’t you?”

She was not going to speak of it again, Henry saw. She had allowed herself one brief outburst and was ashamed of it, and now it was not going to be mentioned. It would be as it had been throughout the rest of their childhood. Sarah’s room was kept as it had been, but outside of it Sarah had never existed.

Evan arrived at the tall, redbrick-and-glass building that was North Wales Police headquarters early on Monday morning and asked for the Records Department. He was surprised how slim the file was on Sarah Bosley-Thomas. Apart from a full-scale search on the mountain, precious little seemed to have been done. If they had considered abduction a possibility, then it hadn’t made its way into the records. Evan scanned down the pages of the report and noticed a name he recognized. P.C. Meredith had been on the search team.

He ran out of the building and jumped into his car. P.C. Meredith was now Superintendent Meredith, his former boss. Luckily the super was of the old school who believed in hard work, punctuality, and keeping noses to the grindstone. He was already in his office when Evan arrived there at eight-thirty, his uniform jacket hanging over the back of his chair, his tie off, and his shirt sleeves rolled up.

“Ah, Evans, what can I do for you?” he asked genially. “You haven’t come begging for me to take you back, have you?” He laughed loudly at his own joke.

Evan smiled. “I wanted to ask you a couple of questions about a search you conducted when you were a P.C.,” he said. “I saw your name on the list. A missing child, twenty-five years ago. She was staying at a farm above Bethesda. Her name was Sarah Bosley-Thomas. Do you remember it?”

The smile faded from the superintendent’s large, flabby face, immediately causing his jowls to return to their customary droop. “Oh, I remember it very well,” he said. “I’d only just joined the force, and I was very cut up about it. They showed us the little girl’s photo. Pretty little thing, she was. So what’s your interest in it now?”

“A skeleton has been uncovered, about the right age. The family is going to meet with the forensic anthropologist today and hopefully provide positive ID.”

“Well, that’s good to know, isn’t it? So they’ve finally found her. Where was this skeleton?”

“Above Llanfair.”

“Llanfair? Good God. That’s a long way from where she vanished. How on earth did she get there?”

“We don’t know. Maybe somebody carried her. She was buried in a grave.”

“Good God. So it was foul play after all. I remember suggesting that might be the case, and my superiors pooh-poohed the idea. They did check the area for known child molesters and the news was relayed to other forces, but the general opinion was that she had met with an accident up in the mountains and that maybe foxes or wild dogs or birds of prey had made short work of what was left of her.”

Evan swallowed hard. “You were part of the search team. You found nothing? No trace of her?”

Meredith shook his head. “It was late afternoon before she was reported missing. We had men out on the mountain right away. We combed the immediate area. It wasn’t thought that she could have wandered too far because she was only a small child. And it was most definitely assumed that she’d just lost her way. Dogs were brought in. One of them seemed to pick up a scent for a while, going up, not down, but then darkness fell.”

“The search went on all night,” Evan said. “I remember because I went along with my father. Everyone had torches.”

“Yes, it went on all night, but remember, it rained heavily before morning. That pretty much obliterated any scent the dogs might have picked up.”

Evan hesitated before asking, “Tell me, sir. Was the family ever suspected? There is no mention of it in the records.”

“The child’s family? Suspected of doing her in? Good God, man, they were in shock. In terrible grief. It never crossed my mind. Of course, I was only a P.C. and I’d no idea what the plainclothes blokes were thinking, but I certainly didn’t get an inkling that their thoughts were moving in that direction.” His eyes narrowed. “Why—have you new evidence that implicates one of them?”

“No sir, but I can’t help wondering.”

Superintendent Meredith looked up sharply. “You’re thinking about the child that’s just been reported missing, aren’t you? Putting two and two together?”

“I can’t help it, sir. Especially since the entire Thomas family is back in this part of the world for the first time in twenty-five years and they’re as jumpy as kittens.”

“I’d understood that our missing child’s father is thought to have snatched her and taken her back to Russia. Are we now discounting that theory, because if so, nobody has informed me.”

“No sir. The child’s father is still our number one suspect, but the two little girls look so similar that I felt we had to look into this angle.”

“Your boss is thinking along these lines too? Or is this another of your lone maverick actions? Because if it is, Evans, let me give you a word of warning. You’re still on probation in the detective branch, and superiors do not always like probationary constables stepping on their toes.”

Evan had to grin. “No sir. I quite understand, but my boss had me accompany him yesterday to interview the Thomases. He’s keeping an open mind, I’m sure.”

“I’m glad to hear it. So the Russian chap hasn’t been found yet?”

“I haven’t checked in today yet. There were several more reported sightings yesterday. We’ve got people working on them for us.”

“Ten to one he’s taken the kid back to Russia, and the Thomases appearing from out of the blue is just a remarkable coincidence. Having been on the force for twenty-six years now, I can tell you that my work has been punctuated with plenty of coincidences.” He flexed his hands together, cracking his knuckles in a way that set Evan’s teeth on edge. “So don’t get carried away, will you, Evans? Eliminate one suspect before you go dancing all over the place looking for others—right?”

“Thank you, sir. I’d best be getting to work then,” Evan said. “I appreciate your help.”

Glynis Davies was already working her way through a stack of papers in the incident room as Evan came in. Today she was wearing a dark green turtleneck that accentuated her sleek auburn hair. She gave Evan one of her dazzling smiles.

“We’re both in before the boss today—we must be keen,” she said. “But it doesn’t look as if we’re getting anywhere.” She waved a pile of papers at him. “None of our sightings has panned out so far. We’ve got a few more come in overnight, and we’ll have to check those, of course.”

Evan nodded. “I hope we’re not wasting too much time looking in the wrong direction.”

“You really don’t think it was the father, do you?” Glynis looked up from her papers.

Evan shrugged. “He does seem the most likely suspect because of the way it happened, because the window of opportunity was so small. If the mother’s telling the truth, that is.”

“What do you mean? Why should she be lying?”

“Guilt? She only meant to go to the van, grab a cigarette, and come straight back, but she wasn’t supposed to smoke anywhere near her daughter, remember. What if she stayed up there and had quite a few puffs before returning to the beach? Smoked the whole cigarette, maybe?”

“So she was away long enough for someone to have spotted a lone child, grabbed her, and made off with her?”

“Exactly.”

Glynis flicked through the papers then let them drop to the desk. “I wish the bloody Russian government would get moving and let us know if Sholokhov has been traced there. It really shouldn’t be too hard to ask questions of his family and friends and find out if he’s returned home.”

“If he really did take the child, he could be anywhere, I suppose.” Evan pulled out a chair and sat at the table opposite her.
“He might be waiting it out somewhere in Europe until the fuss dies down.”

“But he had no money, Evan.”

“He must be somewhere. Even if he’s being hidden by friends at the moment, he’ll have to go out sometime, won’t he? The little girl will need her prescriptions renewed.”

“I take it we haven’t heard back from any chemists yet then?”

“Not yet, but it’s been the weekend, hasn’t it? They’ll have been closed.”

“Oh, right.”

“Maybe that will be our lucky break eventually. If he has got her, he’ll have to refill that prescription sooner or later, won’t he?” Glynis looked up at him.

“And if he hasn’t—if she’s been kidnapped by someone who doesn’t know about her heart condition, then she could be in a bad way very quickly.”

Glynis nodded. “You’re right. We should send out a general alert to hospital emergency rooms, in case someone brings her in.”

“This is presupposing that whoever took her has kept her alive,” Evan said.

Glynis shuddered. “Don’t. It’s too horrible to think about, isn’t it? I criticized you for getting personally involved the other day, but it’s hard not to when it’s a child’s life at stake.” Her eyes met Evan’s.

“Seeing that little skeleton made it more real to me—knowing that Ashley might wind up like that and that I might have the power to stop it, if I’m not too late. That’s what gets to me—wasting all this time.”

“Who’s wasting time? Surely none of my team.” D.I. Watkins came into the room and dropped his briefcase down on the table.

“We’re just feeling frustrated that we don’t seem to be getting anywhere with Sholokhov, sir,” Glynis said.

BOOK: Evan's Gate

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