He shivered as the wind bit into him and he did nothing to control his tears as he retreated into the lodge for the final stone. Had he had that transgression purified out of him? That unspeakable betrayal of trust? He doubted if it ever could be. And in his heart he knew it had been more than a mistake. It had been the disaster that could lead to their defeat.

Calvin lifted the last stone from the hole in the ground, and this time in his prayer, he muttered in that ancient tongue that called the spirits from the rocks and made the sap stir in the trees, ‘Believe, Keeper! Believe!’

What lunacy to try and stop him going up there. But Becker tried. ‘I think it’s best if you stay calm and stay here, Craig. Remember. This is not your investigation.’

Craig was standing up, leaning forward on straight arms that propped up the top half of his body on the table like he was going to do a handstand, his head hanging down between slumped shoulders. Becker was talking down to the top of the man’s head and the back of his neck, and getting no response. Craig fought a battle against tears that were far from manly. He wanted to wail and shout and tear his breast. But he just hung there on his arms, his eyes shut and his mouth a tight slit like a closed razor. Bell was gone to the car, waiting for the Edmonton officer to follow him.

‘We’ll keep you well informed.’

Craig spoke in a choked voice without changing his position. ‘I’m coming with you, Becker.’

‘I can’t stop you. I’m merely advising you.’

‘Then don’t.’

‘Craig. This is why we’re here. To avoid personal involvement.’

Craig’s head surfaced and he looked at Becker with eyes that were way too old for his face. ‘Yeah. It’s real personal now.’

Air moved between them and Becker backed off. ‘We’ll go with Bell. When you’re ready.’

He left the room quietly and Craig opened his mouth in a silent scream that would have broken windows if it had a voice.

The dumb bastards had churned up the snow in the driveway, making such a mess that if there had been tell-tale tracks of any kind, they were gone now. The snow in the drive was flashing red and blue and Craig felt sick.

Daniel. Joe, Daniel, Sylvia. No. Not Sylvia. Only God had messed about with her internal organs. His privilege.

The guy that had messed around with Joe’s and Daniel’s and split the kid apart was not a god, but he murdered like one. Invisible. Untrackable. Silent.