James took the phone from Annie. He didn’t know the priest as well as she did, but he’d met him several times.

‘Hi there, Father,’ he said. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I’m really sorry to bother you at the weekend, Detective Walker,’ the priest said. ‘But I’m concerned about an odd message I’ve received from someone who hasn’t provided a name but suggests I talk to you.’

‘Really? What kind of message?’

‘Well, it’s written inside a card depicting The Twelve Days of Christmas.’

James felt a shudder ripple through him.

‘Exactly what does it say, Father?’ he asked.

The priest cleared his throat and read out the message, which caused the heat to rise in James’s chest.

‘I’ll be right there, Father,’ he said. ‘And can I ask you to please not show it to anyone else?’

CHAPTER SIX

St John’s Church was a distinctive building set back from the road and close to the centre of the village. It was surrounded by dozens of weathered gravestones and a few impressive yew trees, and had an attractive bell tower.

James thought it a great shame that it was being forced to close, but it was the same story in villages, towns and cities across the country as people sought answers outside religion. He’d read somewhere that since the sixties, church attendance in Cumbria had more than halved as society was becoming more secular and religion more diverse.

The snow had stopped falling by the time he arrived at St John’s, but the sky remained heavy and grey, and the air felt raw. James wondered if this was the calm before the storm.

Father Thomas Silver was placing bibles on the pews when he entered the church, but as soon as he saw James, he stopped what he was doing and hurried over.

The priest was a tall man in his mid-sixties, thin and wiry, with a few strands of grey hair, a heavily lined pale face, and a large nose.

James had first met him at Annie’s mum’s funeral, but back then he’d been quite large. The loss of weight had followed a diagnosis of prostate cancer six months ago. He’d made no secret of the fact that it was terminal and that this would in all likelihood be his last Christmas.

Today he was wearing a black suit and clerical shirt with a tunic collar.

‘Thank you for coming so quickly, Detective Walker,’ he said, shaking James’s hand. ‘I’m not afraid to admit that the message in the card concerns as well as baffles me. I’m hoping you can shed some light on it.’

James shook his head. ‘I wish I could. But I’m as confused as you are, Father. All I can tell you is that I received a similar card yesterday. These things usually turn out to be silly pranks, though.’

‘Then let us hope that is the case here.’

‘Where is the card now?’

‘In the office.’

‘Then please lead the way. Has anyone else touched it?’