Cold Justice (Willis/Carter #4)(46)

Lauren used the light on her phone to look at the map in her hand.

‘It’s hard to know where to start,’ she said, exasperated.

Willis pulled over into a layby.

‘Can I see?’

She handed the map across to Willis.

‘We should start on this side tonight and work our way across section by section. Let’s look at this part here, since we’re this side, and then we can work across bit by bit. I think we should concentrate on places where there are buildings. There are lots of tiny farm tracks that we might have to be careful of. I don’t want us to get stuck in the middle of nowhere. But these lanes are going to be easier to negotiate when we can see lights rather than in the day when we could hit a tractor. I think we should look at this section here.’ She showed Lauren the map and ringed the area she had in mind. ‘We are here. And I suggest we take the next right.’

Lauren nodded her agreement as she took the map back from Willis.

After more than an hour of driving Willis headed for home.

‘We’ve made a good start, Lauren, don’t get despondent. We’ll continue tomorrow. Dan Carter will be coming over later this evening and the three of us will tackle it together. That is, unless you tell me you’re not up to it, and I’d understand if that’s so.’

‘I’m up for anything that has a chance of finding my son,’ she answered indignantly.

‘Of course. I’m sorry.’

As they drove back through Penhal they passed the Surfshack. Willis looked at the clock on the dashboard. It was nine. She pulled over and parked outside.

‘Stay in the car for me a minute, Lauren, while I take a look.’

It was too dark – she could no longer see the sea although she could still hear it pounding and crashing on the beach: it was a black menace beneath the clouded night sky. She shivered.

From somewhere at the back of the shop, a light was on. The glow from the window in the Surfshack was faint, but definite. Willis walked Russell around to the front of the building and up the steps. Inside the window were posters of bronzed surfers. Willis cupped her hands to see if she could make out movement, but she couldn’t. She walked around to the side of the building that had the goods entrance and was elevated up a few steps from the hard-standing car park. As she made her way back around towards the front she saw a light come on in the shop. She doubled back and knocked on the glass. There was movement, then it stopped: froze. She leaned in to look through the glass. She looked towards the car where a man was now leaning in and talking to Lauren.

Willis called out, ‘Can I help you, sir?’

He stood up and stepped back as he held his palms up. ‘Just asking if this lady was waiting for my shop to open, that’s all. No sweat, lady.’

‘I’m Detective Constable Willis.’ She showed her badge. ‘And you are?’

‘Marky Raymonds.’

The side door opened and another man stood looking at her in the doorway. He sniffed loudly as he wiped his nose with his sleeve.

‘You’re working late,’ she said, holding her badge up for him to see. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Jago. I’m just inspecting my new surfboard.’ He called over to the man by the car: ‘Hey, Marky . . . you all finished in here? Can I lock up?’

‘Yeah. Let’s get a drink.’

‘Jago what?’ Willis held out her arm to stop him from going past her. He stopped, grinned and took an exaggerated step backwards.

‘Jago Trebethin.’ He gave a nod towards the car. ‘Is that the woman who lost her son? We heard you were down. You went to the Stokes farm today, didn’t you?’

Willis nodded. ‘Have you got any information about the missing child?’

‘No, I can’t tell you anything except how sorry I am for the family.’

‘I’ll pass that on. Did you know Jeremy Forbes-Wright personally?’ asked Willis.

‘I met him a few times over the years. He was pretty hard to miss – big character.’

‘You went up to the funeral on Monday, didn’t you?’

‘Yes I did, me and Marky there. We went up to pay our respects. Least we could do, such a great man, meant a lot to the villagers.’

‘Right. So I’ve heard,’ she said. ‘Where are you working tomorrow in case I need to ask you some more questions?’

‘I’ll be at home tomorrow unless the surf is good, then you can catch me down here in the water.’

‘Where do you live?’

‘I’m sharing a place with Marky here, a cottage on the Stokes farm. You must have passed my place on the lane to the farm.’

‘Were you there this afternoon?’

‘No, I was down here helping my mum; she owns the shop across the road.’

‘Were you anywhere near the Garra Cove area?’

He shook his head, looked perplexed. ‘I know it; I go there often. It’s a pretty beach away from the holidaymakers. Great for collecting mussels and good surfing sometimes. But I didn’t go there today, who would? The surf was blown out there. The rocks are dangerous then. Look, we’re just on the way across to the other side for a drink in the bar,’ he said. ‘If you’re off duty later you can come and find us.’

‘No thanks.’