A Bitter Feast(99)

Grace turned and ran.



Gemma and the others followed Viv as she looked in the cottage, then in the restaurant. As they were searching, Angelica arrived with the two evening servers, and then a couple of early customers came into the bar. Ibby quickly began making drinks while the rest of them crowded into the kitchen after Viv, who grabbed the mobile she’d left on the work top.

“I think she’s overreacting,” Gemma heard Doug mutter to Melody as Viv dialed Grace’s mobile number. But Gemma knew that if it were any of her children, she’d be panicked, too.

“She’s not answering,” said Viv, turning a stricken face to them. “She keeps her phone switched off at school, but she’s supposed to turn it on again as soon as school’s out.”

“Have you tried the friend who was giving her a lift home?” asked Gemma. “Maybe she was delayed.”

Scrolling through her contacts, Viv rang another number, while Angelica, filling orders, tried to maneuver round all the bodies taking up the kitchen work space. After a moment’s murmured conversation, Viv rang off, shaking her head. “She dropped her off an hour ago,” she said, her voice rising.

Gemma glanced out the kitchen door. Dusk had come early with the heavy clouds, and out in the courtyard she’d felt the prickle that presaged a thunderstorm.

“Where exactly did your friend drop her off?” asked Booth. “There are enough of us to organize a search. Where else do you think she might go?”

“Lizzy Johnson says she dropped her right in front of the pub, on the churchyard side of the road. I don’t know where she might go. She doesn’t have any friends in the village. Before, she might have gone to Nell’s, but now . . .”

“We’ll start at the last-seen point and work outwards, then. Ms. Holland, you had better stay here in case she comes back. Keep trying to ring her.”

“But what about Bea? What if she comes back?”

“I’ll stay here with Viv,” Kincaid said.

Gemma didn’t like that idea at all. “I don’t think you ought—” she’d begun, when Viv’s mobile rang.

“It’s Grace!”

“Put her on speaker,” Gemma said hurriedly as Viv swiped the screen.

Then Grace’s terrified whisper filled the kitchen. “Mummy, she hurt Mark. You have to do something. She set the barn on fire!”

“Grace, where are you? Who hurt Mark?”

“Mummy, I’m scared. She saw me. I have to—” There was a gasp, then a thud, then silence.

“Grace!” Viv shouted, but the call had failed. When she tried to ring back, the mobile went unanswered. Turning to them, Viv said, “She has to be at Mark’s farm. I’m going—”

Booth interrupted her. “You and Gemma take the van. Duncan and I will come in my car.” He turned to Doug and Melody. “You two, call it in, all services. Then stay here. Deal with Bea Abbott if she shows up.”



Booth got his Volvo out of the pub car park before Viv could back her van round in the courtyard. This time, Kincaid didn’t mind Booth’s driving. They tore up King’s Well Lane, a bloody storm-tossed sunset filling the sky ahead. Lowering the window as they reached Nell Greene’s cottage, he could smell smoke. “Just ahead,” he directed as Booth drove on. “The farm entrance is where the trees are thickest. I’ll get the gate.”

But there was no need—the gate stood open. Booth drove over the rill and down the farm drive. As the yard came into view, Kincaid could just make out Mark’s Land Rover and the unattached trailer in the gathering gloom. There was no sign of Bea, or of Grace, but smoke was snaking from under the bottom of the barn door. Booth slammed the Volvo to a stop and they scrambled out just as Viv’s van rolled up behind them. Inside the house, the dogs barked frantically.

“Christ,” Booth shouted as they reached the barn. “The door’s been blocked.” A piece of timber had been pulled across the bottom of the barn door, but the two men managed to shift it quickly enough.

“Stand back,” Booth directed as Gemma and Viv came up behind them. He moved to one side as he pulled open the door, but still the cloud of smoke set them all coughing.

Blinking, Kincaid peered inside. Flames flickered, fanned by the inrush of air, but as the smoke cleared he could see a huddled shape against the hay bales on the barn’s far side. He recognized the denim jacket Mark had worn when he’d visited yesterday. “It’s Mark. We’ve got to get him out.”

“You can’t lift him,” Gemma said. “Stay back. Viv and I can help.”

As much as he hated it, Kincaid knew she was right. He’d only been able to grip the timber blocking the door with one hand. “Be careful.”

As the three of them ran crouching into the barn, Mark began to cough and try to push himself up. Kincaid breathed a prayer of relief. “Wait, wait, we’ve got you,” said Viv as they reached him and lifted him up. With Booth on one side and Viv on the other, they supported him across the barn and out the door. Gemma trailed behind, looking round, then ran after them as she began to cough, too.

“I don’t think Grace is in there,” she gasped as she reached Kincaid and the open air. Booth pushed the door to behind her, stopping the wind from feeding the flames.