Cuthbert's Way (DCI Ryan Mysteries, #17)(44)

“That’s the question, Frank. Something about that book was important—not just historically, but to those who believe in St. Cuthbert’s cult.”

He looked his friend in the eye.

“We need to find out what that something is.”





CHAPTER 22


Ryan arrived home shortly after eleven, and felt his heart thud against his chest when he caught sight of a tall, well-built figure silhouetted in the porch light wielding a gun.

Charles lowered the rifle and secured the safety.

“Not exactly the warmest welcome,” he said. “But you can’t be too careful.”

To Ryan’s surprise, he leaned in to give him a manly, one-armed hug.

“Glad to see you back in one piece,” his father said gruffly. “The little one’s fast asleep, and Anna and your mum are in the living room.”

Ryan stepped inside the house and felt a blast of heat warm his icy cheeks.

Home.

“Go on through and see your wife,” Charles said, once Ryan had toed off his boots and hung up his winter coat. “I’ll bring you a bowl of soup.”

Ryan couldn’t have said why that, of all things, was enough to breach his defences, but it was.

“Thank you,” he managed.

“Don’t mention it,” Charles said quietly, before moving off towards the kitchen.

Ryan found two of the three most important females in his life sitting in the cosy living room, with the log fire burning. It was a festive scene, with a garland of ivy and mistletoe draped over the mantlepiece and Nat King Cole playing quietly from a speaker hidden behind the sofa.

“You’re back,” Anna said, and rose to her feet to return his kiss.

“Hi,” he said, simply, and drew her in for a close embrace. “How are you?”

“Better,” she assured him. “Emma’s had a lovely day. We went for a walk by the river, then practised our crawling, didn’t we grandma?”

“We did, indeed. Another month or so, and there’ll be no stopping her,” Eve replied, and patted her son’s cheek as he leaned down to kiss her.

“Hello, darling,” she said. “How was your day?”

Ryan settled himself on the sofa beside Anna, who rested her head on his shoulder, and thought of how to describe his day.

“Busy,” he decided. “Productive.”

“Oh?” Anna said, lifting her head again. “What can you tell us about it?”

He appreciated her being mindful of the confidential nature of his job and, for his part, were it not for the threat posed to his family, he wouldn’t have liked to bring any of the darkness home with him. Here was happiness and light, love and family, and it was his mission to keep it that way.

But there was a threat, so long as the situation remained unresolved, and they had a right to know the full extent.

His father came into the room and set down a small tray of soup and buttered bread, which he placed on a side table beside his son before joining Eve on the opposite sofa.

“Thanks,” Ryan said, and left it to cool. “I haven’t talked too much about this, over the past few months, because I haven’t wanted to worry anybody, unduly. You know what happened to DCI Tebbutt, from Durham Area Command?”

There were sober nods around the room.

“She was killed because of what she came to know about Cuthbert’s cross, as was the man who spotted the forgery—Edward Faber. We kept things quiet to give us some time to investigate, a bit of breathing room, if you like. But now, that time is up.”

They waited for him to explain.

“Until now, there’s always been the potential that somebody out there would find out that we knew about the forgery, that we were investigating them, and would seek to silence me or perhaps other members of my team…maybe my family, too. Today, that threat became more of a reality, because I saw his face, and he saw mine.”

There was not a sound in the room other than the crackling of the fire, until Anna spoke again.

“What does that mean?” she asked, quietly.

“It means that our cover is blown,” he replied, and took her hand between his own. “If this person we’re looking for harboured even a shadow of a doubt about whether we knew about the forgery, seeing me today was enough to confirm it. More so, since they ran, and I gave chase.”

“You were chasing a thief,” Eve argued. “Any police officer would have done the same.”

“A local officer, yes, but a murder detective from the North East? It raises questions, such as what I was doing down there, and why; the only answer can be that I was investigating other relics belonging to Cuthbert, which I wouldn’t bother to do, if the real cross had been returned to Durham Cathedral.”

“Ah, yes, I see,” Eve whispered. “Now, you don’t have the benefit of their doubt.”

“Exactly, but the good news is that I have some useful leads to follow now, which is more than we had this time a couple of days ago.”

“Where did you see this man?” Charles asked.

Ryan suddenly realised that they hadn’t heard, because it wouldn’t have been reported, yet.

“At the British Library,” he said. “I went there with Frank to see the St. Cuthbert Gospel, which is usually on display. By an odd quirk of fate, we came across a robbery in progress—a man dressed as the monk who died at Crayke College on Sunday night gained access to the gospel book using the dead man’s access pass, then attacked a young woman before making off with it.”