IT DIDN’T TAKE long for the clearing to empty. By the time Fleet and Nicky had got there, the search itself had already been concluded, and now only a few stragglers remained at the scene. The superintendent was long gone, taking his entourage with him. Even Nicky had headed off toward the cars, to try to get a signal on her phone.
After turning his back on the access path, Fleet was able to picture the group of buildings as Sadie’s friends would have seen them when they’d stumbled across them. He had to ignore the POLICE DO NOT CROSS tape sealing off the structures, of course, as well as the boot prints that had turned the area into a goalmouth on a municipal football pitch.
Conscious of the few fading voices behind him, he moved closer to the buildings. There was nothing much to the cabin anymore. The roof was cracked, like an egg caved in by a spoon, and the walls had a drunken tilt. There was nothing inside that Fleet could see through the glassless windows except rotten floorboards and treacherous shadows.
The barns were more substantial. There were two, one set back slightly from the other, and each about the size of a modern block of flats—the type developers slotted into every available space on prime residential streets, with rooms the size of cupboards but plenty of them. Whatever the buildings had once been used to store, they were largely empty now, save for several pieces of broken machinery—a plow in one barn, an engineless tractor in the other—and various bits of junk that had washed up on the tide of passing time.
Beyond the buildings, the forest immediately thickened, so much so that Fleet could barely see beyond the first row of trees. Except . . .
He edged closer, moving between the two barns and into shadow that was almost as thick as night. Amid the rain, water dripped from the gabled roofs in heavy drops, and one found the gap between Fleet’s coat collar and his neck. The feeling as it ran down his back was of an ice-cold finger tracing the length of his spine. He shuddered.
On the far side of the buildings, he paused, and checked again toward the trees. Briefly, before, he thought he’d seen movement, and for a moment he could imagine precisely how Sadie’s friends had felt out in the woods: Abi when she’d heard something in the undergrowth, Cora when she’d spotted a figure standing over them as they slept.
But there was nothing, just the rain and the morbid light.
Fleet made to head back toward the access path, meaning to catch up with Nicky. But as he turned, it happened again: a flutter at the edge of his vision, accompanied this time by a sound, as well as a distinct, unshakable sensation that someone was watching him.
He spun sharply . . . and almost leaped from his Gore-Tex hiking boots when a hand fell on his shoulder.
He clutched his heart.
“Jesus Christ, Nicky.”
Nicky gave a start herself, half-amused, half-surprised by Fleet’s reaction. “Sorry, boss. I thought you’d noticed me coming.”
“No, I . . .” Fleet glanced again toward the trees. A shrug of air disturbed the leaves on the branches, and then once again all was still.
Keeping one eye on the tree line, Fleet said, “I thought you went looking for a signal?”
“I did. I didn’t find one. I had a bar for a moment, but then it was gone. I was trying to get hold of Forensics, to ask them to get a wriggle on.”
Fleet shook his head. “It wouldn’t make any difference.”
“Burton?” said Nicky.
“You guessed it.”
“But if they find the blood, and it comes back as a match for Sadie’s, or her prints are on the . . .” Nicky trailed off when she noted Fleet’s grimace.
“‘The search teams have uncovered all they’re going to,’” he quoted. “Apparently. We’re to rely on a bunch of mushroom pickers instead.”
“Mushroom pickers?”
Another headshake. “Never mind,” said Fleet. “Bottom line is, if Sadie’s out here, we need some other way of finding her.” He looked out once again into the trees.
“We could ramp up the pressure on Mason,” said Nicky. “Charge him, slam the door, then offer him a ray of light if he points us the way to Sadie’s body.”
“Careful, DS Collins. You’re beginning to sound like the superintendent,” said Fleet. Then, turning from the tree line, “Sorry. That was uncalled-for. I’d take it as a mortal insult if someone said that to me.” He gave her a conspiratorial smile, and Nicky returned it.
“So, what’s the deal with Mason, anyway?” she said, glancing out into the woods herself. “Have we officially gone off him? What’s made you change your mind?”
“I’m not sure I have changed my mind,” Fleet answered. “In fact, right now, I’d still say Mason is our most likely suspect. On paper, anyway.” He angled his head and took a step closer to the trees. He could see nothing, no one, but Fleet couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was looking back at him. And unless some poor PC had been left behind and was hiding until Fleet left, to cover his embarrassment, there was only one other person it was likely to be . . .
“Boss?” said Nicky, frowning. She’d clearly realized something was distracting him. “What are you staring at?”
“I . . . nothing,” said Fleet, in all honesty. “But humor me, will you? Let’s take a look around.”
“But . . . why?” said Nicky. “This whole area, the buildings included, would already have been swept from top to bottom.”
“It would,” Fleet agreed. He led the way toward the tree line.
“Boss? Seriously. What are you hoping to find?”
“That’s something else I’m not sure of,” said Fleet. “But answer me this: if you were trying to hide from someone, where would you go?”
Nicky shrugged. “As far away from them as possible.”
“And if that wasn’t an option?”
“Well, I suppose . . .” Nicky turned her gaze toward the woods. Her expression when
