Fry shook her head. ‘I don’t see how he had time to do anything. Neil Granger saw him leave. And Granger admitted to being the last to see Emma.’
There’s always the possibility that they were in this together.’
Kessen looked at Fry apologetically. ‘I’d be more open to that kind of suggestion if you could offer me a motive. One of the boys, yes - an attempted rape, a rejected sexual advance, or something of the kind. We’ve seen it often enough. But two of them conspiring together? Were they particularly friendly?’
‘No, sir.’
‘So why should Dearden help out Granger, or vice versa?’
Even Diane Fry was silent at that.
‘Of course, Emma Renshaw might have decided she couldn’t afford a taxi,’ said Hitchens. ‘She might have set off to walk to the station, or to catch a bus, or hitch a lift.’
‘No one along the route to the station reported seeing her,’ said Fry. ‘In any case, it’s over four miles and she was carrying a bag. Bus drivers didn’t remember her, and no motorist ever came forward to report giving her a lift, or seeing her hitching.’
That’s not to say it didn’t happen, of course. It’s still open as an option.’
When the meeting broke up, Cooper watched Diane Fry walk over to speak to DI Hitchens. Perhaps she was pressing her case for Emma Renshaw not to be forgotten. Or maybe she just wanted to be seen to be with the senior officers, and not part of the crowd now squeezing their way towards the door. He waited, and after a few minutes, Fry came towards him.
‘OK, I’ve fixed it, Ben,’ said Fry.
‘Fixed what?’
‘I’ve fixed it for you to come to see the Renshaws with me. I want to get your view on them. Then you can go on to the Oxleys later.’
‘Oh, great.’
‘Have you thought of a new approach?’
‘Yes, I’d thought I’d just take a pile of interview forms and fill in the answers myself right now.’
224
21
On the way into Withens, Ben Cooper and Diane Fry saw a youth walking along the side of the road. He was wearing cargo pants, a parka jacket and a black woollen hat pulled down over his ears.
‘Would that be one of the Oxley boys?’ said Fry.
‘Where?’
‘Walking along the road up ahead.’
‘It could be. Sean? Ryan? One of the two.’
‘And they’re what age?’
‘Fourteen, fifteen.’
Fry looked at her watch. ‘Why don’t we ask him why he isn’t at school? If he doesn’t actually have a note from his teacher on him, we could insist on giving him a lift home, then talking to his parents.’
‘It’s worth a try, I suppose.’
The youth glanced over his shoulder when he heard the car approaching. Maybe he had been intending to thumb a lift, but he didn’t bother when he saw them. He just carried on walking at the same pace, plodding along the narrow grass verge with his shoulders hunched inside his parka.
Fry slowed, indicated and pulled into the side of the road in front of him. The boy didn’t look up, but waited until the car had stopped, then suddenly turned and raced off across the heather away from the road.
‘Watch out, he’s legging it!’ said Fry.
‘Damn.’
By the time Cooper had released his seat belt and got out of the car, the youth was a couple of hundred yards away, his arms and legs flailing as he weaved and splashed across the boggy ground
225
towards the nearest clough, where he would soon be out of sight.
Cooper sighed, recognizing the futility of a chase on foot.
‘Was it Ryan or Sean?’ said Fry.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, great.’
‘It was a good idea,’ said Cooper. ‘Just not good enough.’
‘Ben, what do you think of this antiques angle?’ said Fry as they got under way again.
‘It’s not for me to say, really.’
‘That’s cautious.’
‘But if there are some potential suspects …’
‘You’re thinking you might be wasting your time with the Oxleys?’
