He grunted and conferred with his phone, reading from whatever page he’d managed to locate on the subject. ‘Yes, ma’am. It’s also known as the Eye of Providence, and supposedly represents God watching over mankind. These days it’s mostly associated with Freemasonry, but it also features on the US one-dollar bill.’

Hawkins highlighted a second symbol painted nearby. ‘What about the pentacle?’

Further conference, then: ‘The five-pointed symbol can represent the elements – earth, water, air and so on – but generally it has religious connotations. With the point at the top, it’s common in paganism and witchcraft. With the point facing down, like this one, it’s a sign of satanic worship.’

Hawkins eyed the words scrawled under the emblem: 666 is coming 4 U. ‘Well, that backs up what the shop owners said, anyway.’ She nudged Chris. ‘Keep your eyes peeled for supernatural beings, especially the ones with horns.’

The trainee turned to scan the fields as she checked the other graffiti dotted around the doorway. A rudimentary cross stood out on the left stone upright, opposite the word BEWARE scrawled in shaky capitals. But there was nothing else of significance.

Hawkins moved close to the building and gave the concrete a shove. Its surface was patchy and poorly finished, but rock-solid. She stepped back, gazing up at the corrugated iron covering the large window directly above the door. ‘We aren’t getting in there without a ladder and some heavy-duty tools, but I’m not sure there’s any point. It feels like we’re wasting our time.’

As she spoke, a sharp gust of wind rushed at them across the fields, making both detectives turn away, and coaxing a fresh torrent of cold droplets down on them from above.

Hawkins looked at her trainee. ‘Seen enough?’

Chris seemed as if he was about to answer, when his attention was drawn away to the right. His brow fell.

‘What is it?’ She followed his gaze towards the horizon, scanning the fields for whatever had caught his interest, but she saw nothing.

‘Out there,’ Chris whispered, pointing into the middle-distance away to their right. ‘At the wood’s edge.’

Hawkins peered towards the small copse. Its near edge was almost eighty feet away, evergreen trees shielding the space beneath from the last remnants of daylight. Then she realized what Chris had seen.

A figure stood next to one of the trees, dark, bulky clothing obscuring its exact shape and size. But there was no question.

Someone was standing out there in the shadows.

Watching them.

24

‘Hello.’ Hawkins waved her arms at the silhouette.

No response.

‘Metropolitan Police,’ she called. ‘Can we have a word?’

Still the figure didn’t move, holding its position just inside the row of trees.

‘Fair enough.’ Hawkins stepped up to the wire fence, checking for electrification before placing her hands on top, keeping an eye on the figure as she moved.

Just as their observer began to retreat into the deepening shadows.