Harri wasn’t police any more, but she still had the heart and soul of a detective, and they could never take that away from her. She got to her feet, gave a nod of thanks to Edie, and left the library.

Chapter 4

Harri could see faces in the high cliffs. The judgemental brow of an old aristocrat. The patrician nose of a Roman senator. The gritstone cracks and crags sparked her imagination as she steered her Volkswagen Golf along the lane that led from Upper Hulme to Ash Ridge.

To her left, a grand reservoir shone cobalt beneath a cloudless sky, and beyond it were rising green fields stocked with grazing cows and sheep. The cliffs loomed to her right, half a mile beyond boulder-strewn stretches of gorse. Harri had walked these inland cliffs many times and had always been moved by the rugged landscape. It was a place where the imagination could run wild. It wasn’t just the striking beauty; she loved the grandeur. It gave her a sense of perspective, camouflaging her. The vast wilderness dwindled her significance, and she liked the idea of being hidden from the universe so it could neither notice nor judge her. She particularly relished the prospect of insignificance now, but she wasn’t here for a walk. She was on a private mission, following a thread that started with what she assumed was Elizabeth Asha’s message in the book.

Harri turned right and followed a narrow lane that circled around the cliffs. She had to slow a couple of times to allow sheep to move out of the road, and stopped and left the car to deal with gated cattle grids on three occasions. Finally, a mile further on, Harri saw what she was looking for: Longhaven, the Asha family home.

Harri parked on a patch of grass beside the driveway and got out. The two-storey detached cottage was the only building in sight. It stood behind a drystone wall in a large garden that looked as though it hadn’t been tended for months. Weeds mingled with flowers, and shrubs and creepers spread beyond their beds. A gate blocked the short drive that connected the lane with a parking area in front of the house. Behind the property, a gentle hill met the cliffs, and Harri could see a footpath leading from the stone wall at the very end of the garden up to the high ridge.

She drew back the bolt, and the gate squeaked treacherously as she walked through. The cottage had six small square windows on each floor, evenly distributed either side of the front door. The window frames were painted black, a distinctive contrast against the grey walls and storm-cloud slate roof.

A shiver traced a cold finger down her neck, and Harri looked up to see a young boy with brown hair and sad, striking blue eyes staring at her from the upper window to the right of the front door. He stepped out of sight when he realized he’d been spotted.