It now seemed obvious, looking at the topography of the vale; the natural dip that Tome sat in would easily have been missed by a little girl with no real sense of the outside world who was running blindly from a place of horror.

Something else was obvious, too. Elinor hadn’t murdered Alexia and Dominique. She was the victim, but not the redeemer.

‘I still don’t understand,’ Rowlinson was saying. ‘How does reuniting Elinor and Julian restore any balance?’

‘It isn’t reunification in itself that achieves that,’ Priest replied, looking out to the church.

‘Then what?’

‘How do you balance out a set of scales with too much weight on one side?’ Priest turned to Rowlinson, who grimaced, clearly frustrated.

‘Put more weight on the other side, of course.’

‘Quite. Alternatively, remove all of the weight from both sides.’

Rowlinson looked back at the safe, a mixture of fear and anger registered on his face. ‘He meant for us to be blown into the water, didn’t he?’

‘You and me, you mean? No, I think he wanted us to pass the test, but if we hadn’t I doubt he would have been too upset.’

‘Huh.’ Rowlinson nodded. He was clearly feeling philosophical about this brush with death. ‘Then how do we stop him? Has he even got Elinor?’

‘Oh, he’s got her. He’s a master at getting his pawns in the right place at the right time, don’t forget. Including us.’

Rowlinson rubbed his face in despair. ‘Then where is he?’

Priest nodded out towards the church. ‘The place where he knows Elinor will feel safe.’

*

Karl Jones pulled the white Mondeo up outside St Martin’s Church in Tome and killed the engine. The church sat on a raised mound on the edge of the village. The yellowing plaque outside announced its name in black, archaic letters. Underneath there was a notice saying that services were shared with three other parishes and worship would only take place on the last Sunday of every month.

He lifted the boot up slowly, just enough to peek inside. Julian was sleeping. He had become rowdy in the journey north, shouting when the car came to a stop at traffic lights and pleading with Karl to let him go. He had pulled over and administered a modest dose of ketamine and the noise had blissfully stopped. The effects would last for another hour or so, which was convenient because it allowed Karl to leave him in the car while he visited the church and return for him later.