“You didn’t keep up with her after the end of her term here?”
Rachel made a face. “I meant to, but you know how it is. You promise to write but you don’t.”
“So you’ve no idea of her plans when she left here?”
“I think she was staying with friends in London for the holidays. She said she was having such a good time she wasn’t ready to go home.”
“She didn’t mention wanting to go to North Wales?”
Rachel shook her head. “No, never. She wasn’t really the outdoor type, was she? She used to complain about the rain and cold in Oxford. I don’t know what she would have done on Mount Snowdon. Concerts in London I could understand, but not North Wales.”
“And yet she did go there. To a New Age center.”
She gave him an incredulous stare. “A New Age center—whatever for? Wasn’t that against her religion? She wasn’t trying to convert them, was she? She was one of those dreadfully earnest Christian types. You had to be careful not to swear around her, and she’d never come to the pub for a drink.”
“Did she have any boyfriends, do you know?”
“Not that I know of. She was almost painfully shy and like I said, she’d never come to the pub and places where we go to hang out and meet blokes. Although—” She broke off, frowning in concentration.
“Yes?” Evan asked hopefully.
“She was keen on one bloke, I think. I’m not sure actually if she was keen on him or if she merely wanted to help him. I got the feeling she was the type of person who went around wanting to save people—lame ducks, you know. There was this bloke in the orchestra. Like I said, I don’t know if she fancied him or if she just felt sorry for him because people were being unjust.”
“Unjust?”
“Yes, there were rumors circulating, you know, because the police had had him in for questioning—about Kathy Sparks. They were from the same sort of social set, you see. Both titled families and all that, ridden to hounds from the cradle, friends of the royals. All that sort of bosh.”
“Kathy was the girl who disappeared last year?”
“Yes. She was from this college too. It was horrible. I don’t think they’ve ever found her. It must be awful for her family, mustn’t it?”
“And who was this young man who was questioned by the police?”
“He was in the orchestra with us. Rather geeky—socially inept type.”
“Do you remember his name?” Evan asked.
An elderly woman in academic gown over tweed suit came down the hallway toward them. “Ah, there you are Miss Greene. Are we ready to debate the causes of the Hundred Years War, do you think?”
Rachel gave Evan an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I don’t think I ever knew his name. I have to go to my tutorial now,” she said as the professor swept her in through the paneled door.
Chapter 24
“No, we’re still no nearer to solving it, I’m afraid,” the inspector said. He was a young man, not much older than Evan by the look of him, but he was already losing his hair. “The girl vanished from the face of the earth. We thought she’d run away to start with, because some of her clothes were gone, but she’s never been seen since, so we have to assume the worst.”
“And you questioned a young man?” Evan could hardly get the words out.
“We questioned lots of young men. The girl was not short of male escorts.”
“This was a shy sort of bloke, who knew her family.”
“Oh, you mean Michael Hollister? Yes, we questioned him, and for a while that lead looked hopeful, but in the end nothing came of it. He had an alibi on the day she went missing.”
“Michael? Oh, my God.” Evan held out a hand, remembered the burns, and withdrew it again. “Thanks for your help. I’ve got to get home.”
“Anything more I can tell you?”
“No, you’ve already told me what I needed to know,” he said. “Sorry but I have to rush. I’ll let you know how if this turns out the way I think it will. We may be some help to you in solving your case. Oh, but I tell you what—can I use your phone?”
Dispatch in Caernarfon told Evan that D. C. Davies and D. S. Watkins were not available at the moment. If he liked to leave a message, she’d see that it was passed to them.
“This is Constable Evans,” Evan began.
“Oh, Constable Evans. I heard you got yourself badly burned last night. How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. Listen, tell D. C. Davies to send someone down to the Sacred Grove to keep an eye on Betsy until I get back. I’ll explain everything. All right?”
“I’ll pass it on to her,” the dispatcher said. “And we think you were very brave to try to rescue that rabbit last night. Some people are savages, aren’t they?”
Evan hung up and rushed out to his car. He hadn’t eaten all day but he dared not stop now. His old clunker groaned and protested up the M6 and then along the A55 into Wales. Surely Betsy would be smart enough to stay around people, as he had instructed her. He felt a horrible sense of urgency.
He reached the Sacred Grove about twenty past four and rushed down the cobbled alleyways to the main building.
“Betsy? I think she must have gone home,” the girl at the reception desk said. “I saw her getting her coat, about half an hour ago.”
Evan hesitated. Should he drive up to Llanfair and see if Betsy had indeed gone home, or should he double-check the premises first? There was no point in phoning her house. Old Sam, her father, would probably be at the pub by now and he never answered phone calls anyway. And Betsy would take a while to get home if she was taking a bus. He started back to his car, then, on impulse, changed his mind, and ran back into the center. Nobody stopped or questioned him as he searched the spa building, startling an elderly guest as she emerged, clad only in a towel, from the sauna. He reached the meditation building. Rhiannon looked up in annoyance as he burst in. She was sitting, cross legged, with two other people, on the floor of the main room. The two people sitting with her looked as if they were finding the position uncomfortable.
“What is it now, Constable?” Rhiannon asked in clipped tones. “Any more dramatic rescues to be carried out today?”
“I hope not,” he said. “You haven’t seen Betsy recently, have you? Or Michael Hollister?”
“I saw Michael a while ago. He was down at the dock, rigging his sailboat.”
“Thanks. Look, if Betsy shows up, keep her with you. Don’t let her go anywhere.”
“What’s this about?”
“I’ll explain later. I’ve got to find Michael.”
He ran past the swimming pool, down the steps to the dock. There was no sign of Michael or a sailboat. Betsy had been seen putting on her coat but he hadn’t passed her on the road or at the bus stop. Of course, somebody could have given her a ride home, but it was also possible that she had gone out with Michael Hollister in the boat. She had admitted she was keen on him, after all. And Michael did come across as a harmless kind of chap. The panic was making it hard to breathe or think clearly. He had to get to her before it was too late. It might already be too late … .
He should call for help, call in reinforcements, get the police launch sent out from Porthmadog, but how long would that take? If Betsy had only been getting her coat half an hour ago, the sailboat couldn’t have gone too far. There wasn’t much wind this afternoon. It would take a while to sail clear of the estuary.
Then he noticed the dinghy bobbing at a mooring about a hundred yards offshore. And it had an outboard motor too. He tore off his jacket and swam out to it, gasping for breath as he hauled himself on board. Lucky that he’d just learned to ride a motorbike, he thought. This couldn’t be too different. He pulled the choke full out and then yanked hard on the cord. The engine popped, sputtered, and died. The saltwater was making his burned hands start to smart. He tried it again, then again with mounting frustration. On the fourth try it sprang to life with a satisfying roar. He put in the choke a little and untied the rope as the engine warmed up. He increased the speed to full throttle as he steered the dinghy out to sea. The sound echoed back from the banks of the estuary and wide ripples spread across the flat surface. He reached the point and met the first slap of waves from the open sea beyond. Still no sign of a sailboat. He hesitated, not sure whether to turn left or right. Which way would they have gone? Where would Michael be heading if he wanted to get rid of Betsy? Straight out to sea, obviously. Less risk of her body floating back in to shore. He shuddered as the thought crossed his mind.