‘I’m sure something will be worked out,’ said Robin.
The glass door opened and Pat re-entered, carrying four boxes of pizza.
‘That was quick,’ said Strike.
‘It’s only up the road, isn’t it?’ said Pat, setting the pizzas down on the desk, ‘and I’ve just rung my granddaughter. She’s got clothes you can have, for the little one,’ she told Will. ‘Her youngest’s just turned three. She’ll bring them over.’
‘Hang on,’ said Strike, momentarily distracted. ‘You’re a—?’
‘Great-grandmother, yeah,’ said Pat, unemotionally. ‘We have ’em young in my family. Best way, when you’ve still got the energy.’
She hung up her bag and coat and went to fetch plates out of the kitchen area. Little Qing, who appeared to be having a fine time, now looked curiously towards the pizza boxes, from which an appetising smell was emanating, but Will’s lips had begun silently moving in what Robin recognised as the familiar chant, ‘Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu.’
‘I just need to have a quick word with Robin,’ Strike said to Will, disconcerted by his silent chanting. ‘You OK here with Pat for a bit?’
Will nodded, his lips still moving. Strike and Robin got up and, with a jerk of his head, Strike indicated to his partner that the landing would be the safest place to talk.
‘He and the kid should stay here,’ said Strike, having closed the glass door behind him. ‘They can have my place, and I’ll put up a camp bed in the office. I don’t think we can put them in a local hotel, it’s too close to Rupert Court, and I think he needs someone with him, in case he starts hallucinating the Drowned Prophet.’
‘OK,’ said Robin quietly, ‘but don’t tell him we’ve got to let Sir Colin know.’
‘Edensor’s the client. We’ve got to tell him.’
‘I know that,’ said Robin, ‘but Will doesn’t have to.’
‘Don’t you think, if we tell him his dad already knows about the kid—?’
‘I don’t think he’s scared of his father knowing about Qing. I think he’s worried Sir Colin will try and stop him going to prison.’
Strike looked down at her, nonplussed.
‘He’s obviously feeling really guilty about whatever he’s done in there, and prison’s just another Chapman Farm, isn’t it?’ said Robin. ‘Far less scary to him than the outside world.’
‘What are all these things, plural, he’s done, that are criminal?’ said Strike.
‘It might just be sleeping with Lin when she was underage,’ said Robin uncertainly. ‘I’m worried about pressing him for details, though, especially with Qing there. He might get upset, or kick off.’
‘You realise this is all down to you, him leaving?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Robin. ‘It’s Lin disappearing that made him do it. He was already having doubts when I turned up.’
‘You pushed his doubts to breaking point. He’s probably left early enough for his daughter not to be completely screwed up, as well. I think you might’ve saved two lives.’
Robin looked up at him.
‘I know why you’re saying this, Stri—’
‘It’s the truth. This is the job, as well as the other thing.’
But Robin drew little comfort from his words. It would take more than the unexpected escape of Will Edensor to erase her mental image of Carrie’s two little girls crying for their mother.
They returned to the office. Both Will and Qing were devouring slices of pizza, Will ravenously, Qing looking as though she was experiencing nirvana.
‘So how did you do it, Will?’ Robin asked, sitting down again. ‘How did you get out?’
Will swallowed a large mouthful of pizza and said,
‘Stole twenty pounds from Mazu’s office. Went to the classroom when Shawna was in charge. Said Qing had to see Dr Zhou. Shawna believed me. Ran across the field. Climbed out at the blind spot, like you did. Flagged down a car. Woman took us to Norwich.’
Robin, who fully appreciated how difficult every single part of this plan would have been to execute, said,
‘That’s incredible. And then you hitched to London?’
‘Yeah,’ said Will.
‘But how on earth did you find our office?’
Will pushed the plastic bag at his feet towards Robin with his toe, rather than dislodge the child on his lap. Robin bent to pick it up and extracted the plastic rock.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘It was you who moved it… but it was empty. There weren’t any letters in it.’
‘I know,’ said Will, his mouth full of pizza, ‘but I worked it out. After what – after the Retreat Room –’ he dropped his gaze to the floor again – ‘I sneaked out at night to see if there was anything on the edge of the woods, because Lin had seen you with the torch, and I thought you must be an investigator. I found the rock and looked inside, and there were imprints on the paper, from what you’d written on the sheets on top, so I could tell I was right, and you’d been writing about what was going on at Chapman Farm. After you left, Vivienne was telling everyone you’d answered to “Robin” in Norwich, and Taio said there was a big guy waiting for you at the blind spot when you escaped. So I looked up “Robin” and “detective” in a library in Norwich – got a lift to London – and—’
‘Bloody hell,’ said Strike, ‘we’ve been told you’re bright, but this is impressive.’
Will neither looked at Strike nor acknowledged his words, except by a slight frown. Robin suspected this was because Will knew it must have been Sir Colin who’d told the two detectives his son was clever.
‘Water,’ said Pat, as Qing began to cough, because she’d stuffed so much pizza into her mouth.
Robin joined Pat at the sink to help her fill glasses.
‘Could you distract Qing,’ Robin whispered to the office manager, the sound of running water drowning her voice, ‘while Strike and I talk to Will in our office? He might not want to talk openly in front of her.’
‘No problem,’ said Pat, in the growl that was her whisper. ‘Say the name again?’
‘Qing.’
‘Kind of name’s that?’
‘Chinese.’
‘Huh… mind you, my great-granddaughter’s called Tanisha. Sanskrit,’ said Pat, with a slight eye roll.
When Pat and Robin had handed out glasses of water, Pat said gruffly,
‘Qing, look at these.’
She’d taken a block of bright orange Post-it notes out of her desk.
‘They come off, look,’ said Pat. ‘And they stick to things.’
Fascinated, the little girl slid off Will’s lap, but still clung to his knee. Having seen the other children at Chapman Farm, Robin was glad of this sign that Qing knew her father was a place of safety.
‘You can play with them, if you want,’ said Pat.
The little girl toddled uncertainly towards Pat, who held out the block to her, and rummaged for some pens. Strike and Robin’s eyes met again, and Strike stood up, holding his pizza.
‘Fancy coming through here a moment, Will?’ he asked.
They left the connecting door between the offices open, so that Qing could see where her father was. Strike brought his plastic chair with him.
Robin had forgotten that all the pictures relating to the UHC case were on the board on the inner office wall. Will stopped dead, staring at them.
‘Why have you got all these?’ he said, in an accusatory voice, and to Robin’s dismay, he backed away. ‘That’s the Drowned Prophet,’ he said, pointing at the Torment Town pictures, sounding panicked now. ‘Why have you drawn her like that?’