‘The police still haven’t got back to me about Jacob.’
‘Well, getting warrants take time,’ said Strike, ‘although I’d have thought they’d have been in touch by now, given it’s a dying child.’
‘Well, exactly. Listen, Strike, I really think I could—’
‘You’re taking this week off,’ said Strike. ‘You need to catch up on sleep and get some food into you. A doctor would probably say it should be longer.’
‘Listen, you know how Jiang said he’d recognised someone who’d been at Chapman Farm a long time ago? Did I tell you that, I can’t remember?’
‘You did,’ said Strike, who considered it a bad sign that Robin’s conversation was jumping around so much, ‘yes.’
‘OK, so I’ve been trying to find out who that could be, and I think—’
‘Robin—’
‘—it must be either Marion Huxley or Walter Fernsby. Jiang made it sound like they’d just come back, and they were the only ones of the recent intake who’re old enough to have been there years ago. So I’ve been trying to trace—’
‘This can wait,’ said Strike loudly, talking over her. ‘This can all wait.’
‘For God’s sake, you sound like my mother! She keeps interrupting me when I’m trying to look things up, like I’m some – some geriatric convalescent.’
‘I don’t think you’re a geriatric convalescent,’ said Strike patiently, ‘I just think you need a break. If either Walter or Marion were there before, we can look into it when you’re—’
‘Don’t say “better”, I’m not ill. Strike, I want to get that bloody church, I want to find something on them, I want—’
‘I know what you want, and I want the same thing, but I don’t want my partner having a breakdown.’
‘I’m not—’
‘Get some rest, eat some food and calm the fuck down. Listen,’ he added, before she could respond. ‘I’m going to drive to Thornbury on Monday to try and interview Cherie Gittins – or Carrie Curtis Woods, as she is now. She’ll be back from her holidays, her husband should be at work, and I think she’ll be home with her kids, because there’s no indication of her having a job on her Facebook page. D’you fancy coming with me to interview her?’
‘Oh God, yes,’ said Robin fervently. ‘That’ll give me an excuse to get rid of my parents, telling them I’m going back to work. Much more of this will tip me over the edge. What are you up to for the rest of the day?’
‘On the Franks this evening,’ said Strike. ‘Everything’s in place for them to make their big move and they still haven’t bloody done it. Wish they’d hurry up.’
‘You want them to try and abduct Tasha Mayo?’
‘Honestly, yes. Then we can get the bastards arrested. Did I tell you one of them’s been done for stalking and the other one for flashing? And that they’re using a different surname to the one they used to have? A good reminder to all of us that oddballs aren’t necessarily harmless.’
‘I’ve been thinking about that constantly since I got out of Chapman Farm,’ said Robin. ‘Thinking about how the church has got so big, and how they’ve got away with it, all this time. People have just let them get on with it… a bit weird, but harmless…’
‘If you’d met my mother,’ said Strike, who was now waiting to cross Charing Cross Road, ‘you’d have seen the purest example of that mindset I’ve ever come across. It was a point of pride with her to like anyone who was a bit off. In fact, the more off, the better, which is how I ended up with Shanker as a stepbrother – speaking of whom, he rang me last night to say Jordan Reaney’s back in the nick, but they’re keeping him on suicide watch.’
‘Are you thinking of interviewing him again?’
‘Don’t think there’s any point. I think he’ll keep shtum even if Shanker’s mates beat the shit out of him again. That’s a very frightened man.’
‘Frightened of the Drowned Prophet?’ said Robin, to whom Strike had related the story of his encounter with Reaney on their drive back to London from Felbrigg Lodge.
‘There wasn’t a Drowned Prophet when Reaney was in the church, Daiyu was still alive for most of his time there. No, the more I think about it, the more I think what’s scaring Reaney is a gate arrest.’
‘Meaning…?’
‘That he’s done something he’s worried he could be nicked for the moment he leaves jail.’
‘But he can’t have had anything to do with Daiyu’s drowning. You told me he overslept.’
‘I know, but he could have done any number of dodgy things that had nothing to do with Daiyu. He might be worried he’ll be done for what was going on in those Polaroids.’
‘You think he was one of them?’
‘Dunno. He could be the guy with the skull tattoo. He’s got a devil on his upper arm now, which could be covering up an old marking. Skull Tattoo was sodomising a man we know had a low IQ and possibly brain damage, so Reaney might be scared he’s going to be done for rape.’
‘Oh God,’ said Robin quietly, ‘it’s terrible, all of it.’
‘Of course, if it was him, Reaney could argue in court he was forced to do it,’ said Strike. ‘If the church really has got guns, someone could’ve had one trained on those kids in the pig masks and forced them to perform. I can understand why Reaney wouldn’t want the episode publicised, though. Rapists and paedos are bottom of the food chain, even among hardened cons.
‘Anyway,’ said Strike, remembering a little late that he wasn’t supposed to be encouraging his partner to focus on violence and depravity, but encouraging her to keep her mind on pleasanter matters, ‘go and eat cake and watch a film with your mother or something. That should keep her happy.’
‘She’s probably hidden my laptop while I’ve been talking to you. I’ll let you know if the police get back to me about Jacob.’
‘Do,’ said Strike, ‘but in the meantime—’
‘Doughnuts and romcoms,’ sighed Robin. ‘Yes, all right.’
92
The power of the inferior people is growing.
The danger draws close to one’s person; already there are clear indications…
The I Ching or Book of Changes
Relieved by the prospect of getting back to the investigation on Monday, Robin took the lift back upstairs to her flat. In the sitting room she quietly closed her laptop, with the intention of resuming work once her parents were safely tucked into the sofa bed that evening, then accepted a fresh mug of tea and a chocolate éclair from her mother.
‘What did he want?’ Linda said, sitting herself down on the sofa.
‘To tell me to take it easy and eat cake, so he’d be happy about this,’ she added, indicating the éclair.
‘So Ryan’s coming home on—?’
‘Next Sunday, unless he gets an earlier flight,’ said Robin.
‘We do like Ryan,’ said Linda.
‘I’m glad,’ said Robin, pretending she hadn’t heard the unspoken but not Strike.
‘He’s been very good about keeping us updated,’ added Linda, again with a silent addendum: unlike Strike. ‘D’you think he’d like children?’
Oh, for God’s sake.
‘No idea,’ lied Robin. Ryan had in fact made it perfectly clear he’d like children.
‘He always asks after Annabel,’ said Linda warmly, referring to Robin’s niece. ‘Actually – we’ve got news. Jenny’s pregnant again.’
‘Fantastic!’ said Robin, who liked her sister-in-law, but wondered why this information had so far been withheld from her.