“Fucksake, Thelma,” Milly said, “wind your fucking neck in.”

“My husband’s missing. I will not shut up.”

Ellie ignored Thelma. A fool’s game even engaging her as she had. She was a police officer; she’d authority here and had to assert it. She looked past Thelma to the crowd. “Sergeant Graham volunteered to take his vehicle to the Height earlier and attempt to contact Matlock. When he didn’t return, I went to investigate. The vehicle was in the picnic area, overturned. Windows broken. No sign of the Sergeant. There is a chance he’s still out there – visibility was very poor.”

“Didn’t even do your bloody job –” said Thelma.

“I was attacked. By whom or what, I’m still not clear.”

“What do you mean, not clear? Who or what? What are you talking about now?”

“There were multiple attackers. From their MO I suspect they are responsible for the recent incidents at Wakeman Farm and the Bell.” And Tony Harper. “For whatever reason, they’re avoiding any areas that are lit. The power was cut off at the farm and the pub and they were trying to smash the lights on the car. They didn’t pursue me into the village; so as long as we keep the lights on, we should be fine. I need volunteers to watch the village perimeter – by that I mean the limits of the areas we’ve got street lighting for. Everyone else, the best thing to do is remain indoors, and keep your lights on.”

“Ridiculous,” huffed Thelma, and it hurt Ellie to see doubt on certain faces in the crowd.

“I’ll sort the volunteers out,” Noel said, giving Milly Ellie’s hat. “You get yourself seen to.”

“Go get ’em, Jones,” said Milly, and pushed him outside. She shut the door and steered Ellie into the waiting room. “Let’s have a look.”

Ellie took off her jacket and stab vest. Broken glass fell on the floor. “Shit.”

“We’ll sort that later.”

“Milly, wait – there’s –”

“Shurrup,” said Milly, flashing a penlight in her eyes. “So?” she said, having found nothing more than a few minor cuts Ellie hadn’t even noticed sustaining.

Ellie gave her the details. Milly shuddered, touching the gold cross she wore. “Maybe it’s Judgement Day.”

“Milly.”

“Ellie, I know you don’t believe, but – come on. You’re not telling me this shit’s normal.”

“Not normal’s one thing, Armageddon’s another.” Ellie remembered the evidence baggie. “Here.”

Milly held it to the light, grimacing. “The fuck’s this?”

“That’s what I want to know. I mean – the things were wearing it. Wrapped in it, like mummies or something.”

Milly bit her lip. “Do me best, but you know I’m not CSI here.”