But instead of backing down, the vicar stood firm. For too many years, he had lived with this secret. First, he’d bowed to his wife’s pressure to give Grace a home. Then he’d been blinded by love and loyalty to the child, fearing for her future in the outside world. But as each year passed he was increasingly uncomfortable as Lloyd’s grip on the community tightened. It wasn’t loyalty that had bought the villagers’ silence. It was fear.

‘My daughter is brave beyond belief.’ Humphries spoke with conviction. ‘We’ll do well to follow her lead. Your children deserve better than to live their lives in a village constricted by secrets and lies.’

‘I called this meeting . . .’ Joanne began.

‘And this is the house of God!’ Reverend Humphries bellowed, asserting himself at last. ‘Should anyone want to meet, I’ll be happy to host a gathering. But it will be conducted in the spirit of loving and forgiving, not with threats of banishment or force.’ Sighing, he turned to Joanne. ‘You’ve been living under Lloyd’s shadow for so long, you don’t know what it’s like to be free. None of us know what the future may bring. But if I want to live with a clean conscience, then it starts with repentance.’ He pointed towards a side door. ‘I’ll be taking confessions in the church should anyone wish to seek forgiveness. This meeting is closed.’

‘Then we’ll vote with our feet,’ Lisa Stevens piped up from the back of the room.

Tears rose to Reverend Humphries eyes as he watched his flock flood through the door that led into the belly of the church. Only two people turned left and followed Joanne outside. The door would always be open for when they changed their mind. Lloyd’s hold over their village had been broken. Nighbrook would begin again.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

TRUE CRIME DETECTIVE

by Marsha Bowers

The disappearance of the Harper family was a mystery that baffled couch detectives for a decade. How could a family of three vanish into thin air? Few clues were offered. To the outside world, Ivy Cottage was a vision of normal family life. Mrs Harper had been baking, as evidenced by the ingredients on the side. But where was the man of the house? Her husband’s suitcase was half-unpacked on their bed and all that was left of their terminally ill daughter was her empty wheelchair. Despite extensive ground searches, nothing was found.

Until now. Because I was one of those couch detectives so intrigued by this mystery that it drove me to despair. I could not let go of this case. It became an obsession which haunted my days and nights. An obsession so deep that it could have cost me my marriage . . . and my life.