The Drowning Ground (24 page)

By 11.00 he found himself walking along the green. Although they had no constables at their disposal, they were interested only in villagers who had been around when Rebecca was still living there, so there were relatively few people to interview. Douglas took the small lanes and the cul-de-sacs on the north of the village; Irwin took those on the south; both moved inwards while Graves worked outwards from the centre.

Graves asked his questions and noted down the answers when there were any. When he finished with the houses, he tried the shops. At 2.00 they met in the centre and went for lunch in the pub near the green. They talked about Rebecca. There wasn't much.

When the food came, they put their notes away and started eating. Hoping to get Irwin off guard, Graves put his sandwich down on to his plate and said as lightly as he could manage, ‘You said he was famous. Shotgun, I mean. You remember, the other day. Back in the canteen. You said he was famous up in London. I was wondering what you meant.'

Irwin shrugged. ‘I might have been exaggerating a little bit.'

Graves said, ‘Well, is it true? Drayton said he nearly killed someone. Did you guys ever hear anything like that?'

Douglas nodded. ‘I heard something. While back, that was. But that's all.'

‘Only that it happened in London?'

‘Yes. Think so.'

‘You really want to know, don't you?' Douglas laughed. ‘Driving you mad. Not knowing.'

Graves shrugged. ‘Wouldn't you want to know if you were working with him every day? I just can't figure him out at all. I tried him on Google. There's plenty of stuff about his work around here, but there's nothing about him in London.'

‘Ed knows,' Douglas said. ‘Don't you, Ed?'

‘Thanks,' Irwin said. ‘Really. Thanks a lot. If Shotgun finds out I've been talking about him behind his back, I'll be in the shit.'

‘So there is something,' Graves said. ‘I knew it.' Graves took a bite out of his sandwich and sat back so that the chair rocked on its back legs.

Irwin looked worried. ‘What did Drayton tell you?'

‘That he nearly killed someone and that he won't ever get in the back seat of a car. Hence the nickname. Is that true?'

‘That's what they say,' Douglas said.

‘Come on,' Graves said. ‘I won't tell him.'

‘Yes, come on, Ed.' Douglas seemed to be enjoying himself.

‘Well, I heard something a while back.'

‘Who was it anyway?' said Graves. ‘One of the old boys at the station?'

Irwin eyed him warily over his plate. ‘No. Someone else. He's retired now, I imagine. Maybe you should know. So you know what you might be up against.'

‘Up against?' Graves said, surprised.

‘All right, throw in a curry in town tonight and I'll think about it. But if I do tell you – you didn't hear it from me, all right?'

‘All right,' Graves said. ‘Done.'

They finished their lunch and left the pub.

‘We don't have nearly enough,' Graves said, and slipped his notebook back into his pocket.

‘We could try some of those old cottages,' Douglas said. ‘The ones we saw coming in. And there're old farmhouses near Hurst's house. And the secondary school. Could try the shops again maybe.'

Graves nodded. ‘All right,' he said.

They stood there a little longer before heading back to the car. The church stood against the grey sky on the top of the rise overlooking the pond. The village was very quiet. Graves waited while the other two automatically reached for cigarettes. Far above the yellowish roofs of the houses, a ragged blackbird flew and was buffeted by the wind and then faded finally out of sight.

33

Rebecca Hurst's old boarding school was over in Banbury. It didn't take me long to find it. Her old housemistress, Ms Walker, told me what little she knew, while the headmaster, a toadyish-looking man, hovered and huffed around impatiently, then ushered me without a word straight outside and off the premises. There wasn't much. A strikingly pretty girl who kept to herself before they had to exclude her. No boyfriends as far as they were aware and just one friend. A girl called Alice Hunt.

There was one other thing. A psychologist called Victor Lang used to come to see her at school on Frank's orders. They didn't know much about it, but they gave me his phone number and they had an address for Alice Hunt's parents on file as well. I would need a court order to talk to Lang about Rebecca, so I asked Collinson if we could get one rushed through; she thought it would be possible if we outlined our suspicions that Rebecca could well be dead and linked her death to the disappearance of Gail and Elise. Then, having got Hunt's new address from her parents, I called her. She said that I could come over and see her.

She was in her third year at Oxford studying chemistry, and was living in Cowley in a modern-looking building that was attached to the far end of the dorm rooms for the other students. Her study window looked out on to some frozen and sullen-looking hockey fields.

She was plump, and pretty. Her hair was tied back severely in a ponytail held in place with a blue ribbon. As I took off my coat, I glanced quickly around her study. But the study was, like its owner, cold and detached and gave no sign of a personal life at all.

‘So you think that Rebecca might have run away? After she left school?'

‘We don't really know,' I said. ‘We're just trying to find out where she is. She hasn't shown up yet and we need to speak to her. You know what's happened? To her father?'

She nodded. ‘It was in the papers.'

‘And you've not heard anything from her?'

‘No. Not for years now. Not since school.'

‘You were friends, right?'

‘Well, yes, kind of. But we weren't friends for long. She wasn't at the school for that long and when she left I never heard from her again.'

‘So how close were you?'

‘Well, we were friends for a while. But not really close friends.'

‘What about anyone else from school? Was there someone else she might have confided in? Or maybe been in touch with?'

‘I can't think of anyone at all. She was a very quiet girl, and she didn't really have friends apart from me.'

‘But why you?'

‘I suppose I felt sorry for her.'

‘Sorry for her?'

‘It's a bit hard to explain. The thing is, she came to the school relatively late. When she was fifteen or sixteen, I think it must have been. The other girls kind of ganged up on her. Well, some of the more popular girls did, and the others just ignored her.'

‘But why?'

‘Most of the girls were already pally by the time Rebecca arrived. We'd all formed our little groups and cliques, and we'd been living there a good while together. Since we were twelve or thirteen, most of us. Rebecca came halfway through term.'

‘But is it usually such a big deal – starting late at the school?' I asked, quite shocked.

‘Well,' she said thoughtfully, ‘the school kind of advertises itself as a friendly place to the parents. But it's not really like that at all, once you're in the thick of things. You have to try your best to settle in. None of the girls really tried to make Rebecca feel welcome.'

‘So she was bullied?'

‘Yes, a little bit. Nothing physical. But, yes, teased. Teased quite a lot.'

‘And how did she take it?'

‘She tried to make friends and then I think she just gave up. It was a bit pathetic. After that she never seemed to take to anyone or anything at all apart from me, really, and I think that's because I was the only one who would give her the time of day. Her housemistress asked me to try to take her under my wing, which, of course, I did. But she simply preferred her own company, and I think she kept everything to herself. She liked writing in her diary, going for walks round the grounds. Reading. That sort of thing.'

‘She kept a diary?' I said quickly. ‘We didn't find a diary with her things.'

‘Yes, she was very attached to it. After a while she just seemed to fade into the background. We got used to her being there. I did try to be nice. Tried to make an effort with her.'

‘And she responded to that?'

‘Yes, and she could be sweet when you got to know her. But I was a little surprised when she invited me over during the holidays. I mean, we weren't close friends, as I said.'

‘She invited you over?'

‘Just the once. For a weekend in the summer holidays. That was it.'

‘Did you go?'

‘Yes. It was just a weekend.'

‘And what did you make of it? The set-up, I mean, in her house.'

‘Well, her father simply adored her. And she was like a different person back home. The house was really beautiful. And she was much more confident. More herself. But she'd been through a lot, you know. Her stepmother died over there. There was an accident.'

‘She told you about that, did she?'

‘Yes.'

‘And her father. Frank Hurst. What did you make of him?'

‘He adored her, like I say. He got their housekeeper to cook us big meals. Took us out for the day to some big old stately home. He seemed very happy to have her back home. Spoilt her a little bit, I think.'

‘And there was a doctor who came to see her every now and again at the school. Do you know anything about that?'

‘We all knew she saw someone from time to time. Someone from out of school. Her father arranged it – I think. But she never talked about it. It was always after dinner, while everyone else was at prep.'

‘He was a psychologist. Did you know that?'

‘No,' she said.

I paused. ‘Look, I hate to have to say this, but was there anything … I mean, did you sense anything wrong with their relationship? Her and her father. Something not quite right when you were there?'

‘Sexual you mean,' Alice Hunt said with surprising directness. ‘No. Nothing at all. It all seemed perfectly normal.'

‘All right, then. But what about any local boys? Any boys in her village she might have talked about? Or any boys near the school she might have mentioned?'

‘No, and there was nothing at the school either. We were strongly discouraged from going into town and fraternizing with the locals – especially boys. Not that that stopped most of the girls from doing it whenever they got the chance. But to be honest,' she said, ‘I personally didn't see anything of that sort. Rebecca could have taken her pick if she'd wanted. She was extremely pretty. She just didn't seem all that interested.'

‘So no one? She never mentioned any boys. She never talked about anyone. Anyone she might have met?'

‘No. Not that I can remember.'

‘All right. And she didn't last long at the school? She was expelled, right?'

‘Academically speaking she was very bright indeed. I got the impression that the teachers thought she'd sail through her A levels.'

‘But she was gone before then. That's what her housemistress said. They expelled her.'

‘I don't think they had much choice.' She smiled. She had surprisingly white teeth. ‘It was unexpected. Some money disappeared. It went missing from the bursar's office. You know about that?'

‘Yes, I know. Her housemistress didn't like talking about it much.'

‘Rebecca refused to admit it. One of the other housemistresses came forward and said that they'd seen Rebecca sneaking out of the dorm room the night the money went missing.'

‘And they informed the police straightaway?'

‘No. They decided that it would be better to keep it all in house, I think. And I don't think they wanted the publicity. But Rebecca refused point blank to hand over the money.'

‘How much money?'

‘Almost eight hundred pounds. That's what I heard.'

For a moment I stared out of the window, thinking. ‘She was already planning on leaving,' I said quietly.

‘What?' Alice Hunt said.

‘It was so she could leave,' I said. ‘She took the money because she was already planning on leaving. And it got her expelled too. It was her going-away money.'

She didn't say anything.

‘Just to be completely sure,' I said. ‘Are you positive she never mentioned anyone? Someone she could have been planning on running away with? A man maybe? Or someone your age? Someone from her village.'

‘No,' she said. ‘I'm sure of it.'

*   *   *

I phoned Graves from the car.

‘Looks like you're right, sir,' Graves said. ‘The samples Brewin compared with Gail's and Elise's parents. They don't match. He's just got the results. He's going to compare Simon Hurst's DNA with the samples he collected from the body under the house right now, but it will be a few more days before we get the results on that. But I've been talking to the lab in Oxford. They'll never be able to confirm that it's Rebecca, because so little was left of the body. But it's their opinion that the body was older. Older than we thought by at least five years. So, whoever it was, they were around seventeen to twenty-five and female. That's their best estimate.'

‘So older than we first thought?'

‘Yes.'

‘So it could be her? It really could be Rebecca?'

‘Looks like it.'

‘And how long has she been down there, if it is her?'

‘They still don't know, sir. But there's one thing. We might have got lucky. We started asking around some of the old cottages outside the village. A couple remembered Rebecca. Used to know the family quite well. Remember you said that her stepmother, Sarah, was having an affair and Frank Hurst got wind of it?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well,' Graves said, ‘do you know how he found out about it?'

‘No,' I said, interested.

‘Rebecca,' Graves said. ‘Apparently, Rebecca knew about it all along. She'd seen them together or she'd become suspicious. The couple were extremely discreet and nobody else knew about it.'