Chapters (68)
- Cover
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62
- Chapter 63
- Acknowledgements
- Canelo Crime
- About the Author
- Also by Rachel Lynch
Kelly watched as spittle gathered at the corners of Fred’s mouth. He was on a rant and she allowed him to continue, in the hope that he’d let something out that she could finally fucking work with. It was refreshing and she wanted to egg him on further. She sat back and watched the show. It was his turn to bang his fists on the table. The uniform tasked with chaperoning the detectives moved forward, but Kelly motioned to him that everything was all right. Will came back in the room. Fred glared at him.
‘We’re rotten to the core! Politics, police, doctors, banks! All of you! Money, money, money! Me, me, me! Fake, fake, fake! All of it! There was no helping poor Daphne, no more than we could have stopped him butchering Mary. For all we know, he took Edna’s William and abused him too.’
‘He wasn’t the only one, Fred. There are thousands of missing children in this country. Have you heard of Kevin Good? And the animals he tortured? Did you know about that? It wasn’t just a wren bonfire he liked. Dogs, cats, sheep, livestock? High Rigg? Birkett Mire?’
Fred’s pained face changed in a moment.
‘Birkett Mire? He talked about that place all the time. He raved about it, how the land was sacred and no one should be able to claim it. He said that the alignment from Castlerigg at Mabon was the most important of all: even more than the solstice at Stonehenge.’
‘Now you remember what he talked about? This is better, Fred, come on, tell me.’
‘Y-yes. I know. I—’
‘So Threlkeld is special because of the alignment? But what is special to him? How does he regard a special place such as that? Does he live there? Pray there? Kill there? We sent a car to have a look round and they’ve reported nothing. What about this place he boasted about, was that Threlkeld? Wait a minute. Was it anywhere near Thirlmere? Off the Great How turning to Raven Crag?’
‘He stayed wherever he could in what he could. A stolen campervan would do.’
‘A campervan? What model?’
‘I never said he still had it…’
‘What model?’
‘Fiat.’
‘When was the last time you saw Jock?’
‘Yesterday morning.’