something white flapped at them from the void, he jumped, grabbing Lally’s shoulder and pulling her to a halt. “What the—” Then, as his eyes adjusted, he realized where he was and what he was seeing. Beneath the wind he heard a creak of mooring ropes, saw the faint gleam of letters materializing against a dark hull. It was the
“Christ, Lally.” Kit thought he might be sick. “What do you mean, bringing me here?” he shouted at her. “Don’t you know—”
“Sorry, sorry.” Lally pulled at his jacket. “We’re not stopping here, but we have to go past. I didn’t think. Come on. We have to hurry.” She tugged at him until he stumbled after her, trying to shut out the images crowding into his mind: Annie, lying in the emerald grass of the towpath . . . his mother, lying against the white tile in their kitchen . . .
Then he was caught in the rushing corridor of his dream, run-
ning, running, trying to get help, while the room where his mother lay receded endlessly in front of him.
Lally’s shaking him brought him out of it.
“Kit, what’s the matter with you, for God’s sake? We have to climb the stile here. Come on.” Lally turned and vaulted halfway up, one leg over, and it looked to Kit as if she were disappearing into the hedge.
He followed her, clumsily, the brambles scratching his hands. Jumping down on the far side, his feet sank into snow that had settled in the lee of the hedge.
Lally was moving up the hill, opening a gate and motioning him through. The surface under his feet grew firmer, and he realized they were on a bridge, crossing back over the canal. “Where are we?”
“My mum’s dairy. Don’t you want to see where they found the dead baby?”
“No!” Kit said, then amended, “It’s a crime scene.”
“So what’s a little tape?” Her teeth flashed as she glanced back at him. “Besides, it’s only a couple of minutes from Leo’s house, and this is where he said to come.”
Squinting at the outline of a peaked roof against the lighter sky, Kit caught a flicker of artificial light lower down, a match or lighter, or a quickly covered torch.
“He’s here,” said Lally, her voice gone suddenly flat. She stepped over the crime-scene tape that had drooped between its stakes.
“Took your time, didn’t you?” said a voice from the darkness.
Leo stepped out of the barn’s entrance. He drew on a cigarette and the tip’s brief flare lit his face at odd angles, so that the planes stood out like shapes in a Cubist painting.
“Aren’t we going in?” asked Lally, with what Kit now recognized as manufactured disinterest.
“Nothing to see but some crumbling mortar. Disappointing.”
Leo shrugged. “I should know. I waited last night.”
“My mum didn’t let me out of her sight last night. It’s only because she went out that we could come tonight.”
“Did you bring it?” Leo asked, as if her excuses were meaning-less static, and Kit felt Lally go suddenly still.
“No. It’s at our house. My mum won’t let Sam and me go back there. She doesn’t want us to see our dad.”
“So they haven’t kissed and made up, your parents?” There was something in Leo’s voice that made the hair on Kit’s neck stand up.
Lally took a little hiccupping breath. Dead giveaway, thought Kit.
Instinctively, he reached for her, a protective hand on her shoulder.
She stepped away, but not before Leo had seen. There was a new tension in his posture, but he said lightly, “Is this your hostage, then?”
“What do you mean?” Lally asked.
“Coz, here. It’s a good night for a boys’ night out. What do you say, coz? I’ve a bottle of Absolut tucked away—no need to chill it in this weather. We can go to the clubhouse.”
“Leo—”
“Not you, Lally.” His voice was suddenly hard. “I said ‘boys’
night out.’ Go home. Go home and start thinking how you’re going to get your mother to let you back into your house.”
“Leo, I—”
“That’s the bad thing about letting people in on your secrets, Lal.” Leo spoke the words with a smile, but Kit knew it was a threat.
“You can never be sure they’ll keep quiet.”
“Go on, Lally,” said Kit, knowing only that he wanted her to get away, and that he meant to find out what Leo was holding over her. If it was drugs, Leo would implicate himself if he told. But had he seen the scars on her arms?
“But—”
“You heard the man,” echoed Leo. “Run along now. There’s a good girl.”
“You’re a bastard, Leo,” said Lally, her voice shaking, but she turned away, without another look at Kit, and in an instant was lost in the darkness.
Kit’s mouth went dry as he realized he wasn’t sure he could find his way back on his own. Follow the towpath, that was all. If he’d done it once, he could do it again.
“Not having second thoughts, are you, Kit?” Leo put the empha-sis on his name, now that Lally was gone. “Come on, have some fun.
I thought you city boys were sophisticated.”
“I don’t—”
But Leo threw an arm over his shoulders, propelling him away from the barn, and Kit realized that not only was the other boy a good six inches taller, but he was stronger than he looked. “It’s not far. Just across this field and into those trees up ahead. I’ve got a special place.
I found it not long after we moved here. I could never see what my dad wanted with this old pile of a house, but the property had its unexpected bonuses,” he continued conversationally, but he didn’t let up his grip on Kit’s shoulder.
“Why’s Lally afraid of you?” said Kit, determined to take control of the situation, in spite of the hand at his back.
“Afraid of me?” Leo sounded hurt. “Lally’s not afraid of me. We look out for each other, that’s all. She has some habits that need to be kept in check. And I make sure she doesn’t get involved with people who might not be good for her. She’s a bit fragile. I wouldn’t want someone to take advantage of her.”
“I’m not going to take advantage of her,” Kit said angrily. He tried to shrug away, but Leo’s fingers gripped like steel.
“But you like her. Admit it.”
They entered the woods. The darkness closed in until there was nothing in Kit’s universe but Leo’s hand, and Leo’s voice.
When he didn’t answer, Leo said, “That’s a shame. Peter liked her, too.”
Chapter Twenty- five
“I don’t like it,” Kincaid said as soon as they had stepped back onto the towpath. “What if we’re wrong and we haven’t told Babcock? We’re obligated, and even if the Wains are telling the truth, Ronnie will spend valuable time and resources trying to solve the case—”
“You’d sacrifice this family to save police resources?” Gemma stopped, turning to face him, and even though he couldn’t see her face clearly, he could hear the censure in her voice. “Gabriel Wain would lose his wife
