Uncle Dave, they wasn't and they was gonna suffer.'
'Did you ask her what she meant by suffer?'
He shook his head. 'I just knew it was bad, innit? Then Mum died . . .'
'Do you know who she meant by 'we', Gary? When she said 'we' had strayed from a path?'
He shrugged. 'Our family, I think.'
'Did she say what this path was? Was she talking about Jesus?'
He nodded his head. 'It was all about Jesus. Jesus was gonna come back. I didn't understand it but he was gonna come back and some people wouldn't be OK because they weren't ready but we'd be ready.'
Foster knew the key to all this lay tangled in the details of the man who had visited Leonie Stamey - the same man he suspected had visited Katie Drake.
'Do you remember anything else about what she said, Gary? Anything at all?'
The boy thought for some time. Foster could see he was tired and it was getting near midnight. He would desist in a minute, let him get some rest. He'd made up the spare bedroom, his old room when he'd lived at home as a kid.
'I can't remember,' he said sullenly. Then he smiled.
'She started dressing funny.'
'Really? How?'
'She just started dressing funny. Like she used to wear short skirts and tops and things like that. But then she stopped. She wore like long dresses and tops. There was some girls who was her friends who kept teasing her about it and stuff. Then she wasn't friends with them no more.
Said they was wicked and she didn't mean good wicked, she meant bad. They said she was a stuck-up bitch. One of them punched her and she didn't fight back. I was amazed because she was a good fighter, Leon
'Did she tell you why she changed the way she dressed?'
'No. Think it was something to do with what the man said. She changed a lot,' grinning almost, putting much emphasis on the last word of the sentence. The smile disappeared from his face. 'She said she'd make sure I was safe,' he added softly.
Well, she's not around, Gary. It's up to us to keep you safe.'
The eyes burned with hatred. You think she's dead, don'tcha?' Voice rising with anger.
Foster held his hands out. 'I don't know, Gary.'
Well, I know. She isn't.'
'Because she promised to come back for you?'
'Because I've heard from her.'
Foster almost did a double take. 'Since she disappeared?'
No response.
'Gary, if Leonie has been in touch with you then I need to know.'
Again, the boy didn't speak but stared ahead at the wall.
Foster rubbed his face. 'People have died, Gary. You can help me find the people who are doing this. You can help me find the fourteenyear-old girl who went missing last week.' Still no reaction. You can help me find Leonie and stop anything happening to Rachel.'
Gary shook his head slowly; he looked as if he might cry. 'I promised.'
Foster sighed. 'Please, Gary.'
Another slow shake of the head. The kid was a stubborn mule.
'If you don't, I'm going to have to take you in for obstructing the police.'
You don't scare me. You think I've not been arrested before?'
The kid had a point. More than a hundred times, if his charge sheet was to be believed.
'I can help you find Leonie, Gary. Then you'll be safe.'
Silence. His eyes appeared to brighten, as if lit by hope.
But he still wouldn't talk.
'Sleep on it. Let's talk in the morning.'
Her mother forced the corners of her mouth into a smile but she could not hide the sadness that seeped out from her sorrowful eyes, like gas from an unlit lamp. Sarah stood in the heavy dress; despite its prettiness, for all she cared it could have been a suit of tar and feathers. Her younger sisters twittered playfully around them, delighted at the prospect of a wedding and an open house.
'Will there he dancing?' Henrietta asked excitedly.
'Will there be food?' asked Emma, who, at six, was still to lose the puppyish layer of fat that encased her body.
At least the open house might involve some laughter, though not hers. In the pit of her stomach she felt nauseous. The prospect of the house emptying and of being taken to his chosen place to consummate the marriage -- the bile and terror rose just thinking of it. The last few nights the dream had been the same. He leaned in for a kiss.
Those rotten teeth, those stained yellowing whiskers, the hairs like spider's legs protruding from his fleshy nose, the sickly sweet odour that filled the room, it was like no nightmare she had ever had before.
Yet soon it would be real.
She could tell that her mother saw it all. But she could not question it. She was to be her father's gift to the most respected man of the town and there was nothing that could be done to change it. Her mother tried to explain what an honour it was. How she was serving the calling of the Lord. But she cared nothingfor this Lord that tore her away from the people she loved and turned her into a breeding mare for some slovenly old fool. She had never been the most pious of children, though she had tried. She read the book, she memorised the doctrine and covenants, she listened to the Gospel in church, and all the time closed her eyes, willing herself to submit, to believe, to make it all worthwhile, but the nagging doubt and injustice that lodged like a tick in the back of her mind refused to be quelled.
'I, too, stood where you are now,' her mother intoned. 'I, too, experienced the same fears and doubts that you are feeling. You are but a child, albeit a strong one, Sarah. He is a good man who will make sure you are very comfortable. Far more comfortable than I ever was. Particularly back then. In your own way, you will come to love him.'
Sarah swallowed the urge to laugh, to bellow, to scream, 'No, I WON'T!' Instead she looked at her mother, at that dark-skinned mournful face, lined with hardship and struggle. She had been found as a young girl, left for dead at the massacre of Bear River, buried under the carcasses of her kith and kin. A. kind man of the faith, not long since off the boat from the old world, had found her. She had been taken back to his family, newly settled, where she had worked as a domestic servant but been cherished like one of their children.
The faith had saved her, offered her hope, a new family, afresh start.
No wonder she agreed to be wed to Sarah's father when she was chosen. It was time to repay the debt.
They hugged. Hot tears stung her eyes but she kept them in. 'Oh, Mother,' she said. Her mothers hands ran down the back of her head, like they had many times before, as a means of comfort. She wondered if it was to be the last time they would do that. She could not help it. The tears broke free and she began to convulse, to sob.
Her mother gripped her tighter.
'Shhh,' she said softly. 'It will be all right. It will be all right.'
Sarah could not admit why she was so sad. That it was nothing to do with that sweating warthog she was supposed to marry. That it was because she would never see them all again. She knew it would be all right.
She knew he would come for her.
5
A shot of pain woke him. One leg was curled underneath the other and he'd tried to straighten it in his sleep,
