Out in the lane, owls hooted and foxes wailed, but she wasn’t afraid, she knew the sounds, she was used to them. Claire barely noticed them now. She had too much sorrow to contend with, too much pain. And humiliation too. She was going to look such a fool in front of everyone, having to call off all the arrangements. Shauna Everett would laugh at her. God, that bitch would love it.

Still crying helplessly, she halted as Blue gave a growl and stopped dead in front of her.

‘Oh Christ, Blue, don’t mess around. Not now. It’s only a ruddy badger or a deer, that’s all,’ she choked out.

But now Claire could see it wasn’t. By the dim moonlight she could see figures moving ahead of her in the lane. Coming closer.

She stiffened. ‘Who’s that?’ she called out.

They didn’t answer.

She felt the chill of fear.

Blue was growling steadily, his hackles raised, his head lowered, ready to spring. Then one of the figures came in close and she heard Blue snarling in earnest.

‘You better shut him up,’ said a female voice Claire recognized.

‘Shauna? That you?’

No answer. Claire was pulled off-balance as rough sacking was dragged over her head, stifling her. Someone hit her, hard, and the dark world went darker still.

11

11

When Claire came to she felt sick and dizzy. Her head was pounding, her whole body was in motion and there was an awful pressure on her stomach . . . someone was carrying her over their shoulder, she realized. The sacking smelled dusty against her nose and she thought of Blue. Where was he?

The answer came straight away. She could hear him growling and whimpering, somewhere close by.

She could also hear the wind, sighing over the fields, and now a door was creaking open and the sound was familiar. They were inside now, inside a cool and silent building that echoed with the footsteps of whoever had grabbed her.

It was . . .

It was the church in the dell.

Blue’s growling went up a notch. He should be biting someone by now, she thought. Why wasn’t he?

Suddenly she was set down on her feet. She staggered. The sacking was pulled off and a torch shone into her eyes. Shaking, unsteady, she winced, put a hand up to shield them. She felt a sticky patch of blood on her brow, where she’d been struck. Wondered if she was going to vomit. But then they were yanking her forward, dragging her up the aisle and . . .

‘Jesus,’ moaned Claire as rough hands pulled her to a standstill.