'I thought I'd seen him wandering around with his wife.'
'Like me, he's on unofficial duty, keeping an eye on things.'
'Looking for our monster?'
'Yeah, bit difficult when you don't know what he looks like, though.'
' "It", you mean: Jon refuses to accept the killer as human.'
'I'd noticed.' Uncomfortable, Overoy scratched his cheek with a nicotine-stained finger, careful not to spill the wine. 'Mr Childes is, er, a strange man in some ways, Miss Sebire,' he said.
Amy smiled sweetly. 'Wouldn't you be if you'd been through what he has, Inspector?'
'No, I'd be worse: I'd be out of my brain by now.'
A quick frown replaced the smile. 'You can be sure he's not.'
He held up the plastic cup between them as if a shield. 'I'm not suggesting anything, Miss Sebire. In fact, I find him a remarkably down-to-earth character, considering. I just mean this ESP business is a bit odd, that's all.'
'I thought you'd be used to it by now.'
'He isn't, nor am I.'
'Jon is beginning to accept the ability.'
'I accepted that in him a long time ago, but that doesn't mean I'm used to it.'
A passing group of parents waved to Amy and she called out a hello in return. She faced the policeman again. 'Do you really think this person could have come here to the island?'
Overoy sipped the wine before answering. 'He knows Childes is here, so it's possible. I'm afraid this business may have turned into a personal vendetta against Childes.'
'But you really think he could read Jon's mind in that way?'
'To find his location, you mean? Oh, no, he didn't need to. Childes' daughter, Gabriel, took a funny phone call a day or two before her friend was abducted - she couldn't remember exactly when - and we're assuming it was from the kidnapper.'
'Jon mentioned that to me.'
'We didn't find out for some time after, when we questioned Gabriel again and specifically asked if she or Annabel had spoken to any strangers in the days or weeks before Annabel was taken. She remembered the call then.' His eyes ranged over the crowds, but he was recalling something unpleasant. 'Gabriel couldn't describe the voice, so she did an impression for us. It made my flesh creep just to listen.' He finished off the wine and looked around for somewhere to dispose of the plastic cup. Amy took it from him. 'Please go on,' she said.
'The voice was weird, a kind of low growling. Rough, but with no particular accent, nothing for us to latch on to. Of course, she's just a kid and anyway the caller could have been deliberately assuming a different voice to normal, so even that doesn't help us much. Unfortunately, when he asked to speak to her father, Gabriel said he didn't live there any more, that he was here, on the island.'
'Then when he went to the house…'
'He specifically went there for Gabriel, or at least to do some mischief. We haven't mentioned our notion to Annabel's parents -it would be heartless and at this stage, there'd be no point - but we believe he mistook Annabel for Childes' daughter. She'd told her mother that she was off to play with Gabriel, so we reckon she was in the Childes' garden when she was abducted.'
'You still haven't found her body?'
Overoy shook his head. 'Not a trace,' he said dismally. 'But then the killer doesn't need her body to be found: he's already presented us with the moonstone, along with the little girl's fingers.'
Despite the heat of the day, Amy shuddered. 'Why should he do such a thing?'
'The moonstone? Or do you mean why the mutilations? Well, the desecration of the bodies has all the hallmarks of ritual, and the moonstone could play some part in that.'
'Did Jon tell you about his dream?'
'The moonstone changing into the moon? Yeah, he told me, but what does it mean? And why did the word "moon" appear on the computer screens in his classroom? And was it really there?'
Amy was startled. 'I don't know what you mean.'
'The mind is a funny thing, and Childes', apparently, is a little different from most. What if he imagined he saw the word on the monitor screens?'
'But the girls in his class saw it too.'
'Pubescent girls at their most sensitive age, minds open to suggestion. I'm talking about a form of mass hypnosis or collective hallucination. Such things aren't rare, Miss Sebire.'
'The circumstances weren't like -'
He held up a hand. 'It's merely a consideration we have to keep our own minds open to. I wouldn't be here if I thought Childes was making the whole thing up, and I'm working on one particular theory that might throw some light, but I need to do more research.'
'Couldn't Moon be somebody's name?'
'First thing that occurred to me, so I checked whether the prostitute who was murdered had any associate or regular clients by that name. So far, nothing. I also did a run-through of the list of staff and inmates at the hospital, but drew a blank there, too. Something's bound to turn up sooner or later, though - it's the natural order of events in most criminal investigations.'
'Is there any way in which I can help?' Amy offered.
'I wish there were - we need all the help we can get. Just keep an eye out for anyone acting suspiciously around Childes. And for that matter, around yourself. Remember, the killer tried to get at him through his daughter; next time it could be you.'
'Do you… do you think this person is here today?'
He sighed, still looking around. 'Hard to say. After all, what do we have? A word on a computer screen? Doesn't tell us much, does it? But if he is here, he'll know where Childes lives - all he has to do is look in the phone book and find there's only one Childes listed.'
'But surely you're keeping a watch on the cottage,' said Amy, alarmed.
'I've got no authority here, Miss Sebire.'
'Inspector Robillard…'
'What can he do? I've had a hard enough job getting my own people to listen, so what can Inspector Robillard, who thinks I'm slightly out of my head anyway, tell his superiors?'
'But that leaves Jon so vulnerable.'
'We may come up with something today. Childes has one of his feelings about the safety of the girls, that's why I'm here and why I've persuaded Geoff Robillard to give me a hand. Not much of a task force, I admit, but under the circumstances, all you're going to get. It had crossed our minds to let the principal in on our little secret, but what sane reason could we give for our presence? You know, I'm not at all sure of this myself, but I'd hate anything to happen here without at least taking a few precautions.'
Amy had been quietly appraising Overoy while he spoke. 'I think Jon has been fortunate to find an ally in you,' she said. 'It's hard to imagine any other policeman taking him too seriously.'
Overoy glanced away, embarrassed. 'I owe him,' he said. 'Besides, he's a definite link - why else would this lunatic send him a moonstone? Frankly, Miss Sebire, Jonathan Childes is all we've got to go on.' He continued to search among the strolling people, looking for a certain indefinable something, a guarded look in someone's eyes, an awkwardness of movement betraying an unnatural self-consciousness - any small nuance that would make an individual subtly conspicuous to the trained eye. So far, all appeared normal; but the day was still young.
Amy was about to walk away when Overoy said, 'Did he tell you about his daughter's dream?'
She stopped. 'When Gabby saw Annabel after she'd been taken?'
He nodded.
'Yes, he did.'
'It wasn't just a dream, was it?'
'Jon's already told you.'
'He was vague. He said that he and Mrs Childes heard Gabby call out in the middle of the night from another room along the hallway and when they got to her she was sitting up in bed, very upset and claiming to have dreamt about Annabel. Those were his words. I'd like to know if she really had been dreaming. It's not important, Miss Sebire; I'm just curious. Does Gabby have the same gift as her father?' He failed to notice that something he had said had shaken Amy.
'Jon doesn't believe
it was a dream,' she replied, distractedly. 'He may have told you that to protect her -'
'From me?'
'You let matters get out of control last time; he wouldn't want Gabby to go through what he had to. I'm surprised he even mentioned it to you.'
'He didn't. Mrs Childes told me and later he explained it as a sort of nightmare.'
'Perhaps I shouldn't have said otherwise.'
This time he was aware that her initial cheerfulness had been dampened and, mistakenly, he assumed she regretted her disclosure. 'Like I said, it's not important, so let's leave the matter there. I'm sorry he still doesn't have confidence in me, though. I'd hate to think Childes would keep anything important from me.'
'I'm sure he wouldn't, Inspector. Jon is a very frightened man at the moment.'
'To be honest, he's not the only one: I've seen the forensic photographs of what this maniac can do.'
'I don't think I want to know any more than I do already.' Amy looked over at the strawberries-and-cream stall. 'I'll have to get back and help the girls; they're being swamped with customers.'
'You'll see me and Inspector Robillard wandering around throughout the afternoon, so let either one of us know if anything suspicious catches your eye. I don't think anything's going to happen with all these people around, but you never know. Oh, and Miss Sebire,' he added as she turned away, 'if you do casually bump into me again, try not to call me Inspector.' He smiled, but her mind was obviously now on other things, for she did not respond in kind.
'I'll remember,' was all she said, and then she disappeared into the throng milling around the stall.
***
He checked his wristwatch: soon it would be time for the gymnastics and dancing to begin.
Childes kept careful watch as visitors and staff began drifting towards the main lawn at the rear of the school. He continued to feel uneasy, even though nothing had occurred as yet to give him cause for concern. He had come across nobody who appeared in the least bit out of place, no one who made his spine stiffen or the skin on the back of his neck crawl, a reaction he instinctively knew he would have once he set eyes on the person - creature - he sought. The creature who sought him. Could he have been wrong? Was the idea that it was on the island a misguided assumption? He did not think so, for the feeling was too strong, too intense.
Childes followed the visitors, spotting the island policeman, Robillard, among them; Overoy would not be too far away.
Lively chattering around him, smiling faces, movement of bright colours and the buzz of activity - all conspirators to the air of normality. Why did he doubt so? There had been no warnings, no sensing of overt danger; only a trembling within, a creeping unease, a certain tenseness. No recognition, but a heavy, shadowy awareness without definition, without clarity. He felt eyes upon him and was suddenly afraid to turn. He forced himself to.
Paul Sebire stood three yards away, supposedly in conversation with Victor Platnauer, but his gaze boring into Childes. The financier abruptly excused himself and strode towards him.
'I don't intend to create a scene here, Childes, but I think it's about time you and I had a serious talk,' Sebire said gruffly when he reached the teacher.
For a moment, Childes forgot his main concern. 'I'm ready to discuss Amy at any time,' he replied with a calmness he scarcely felt.
'It's you I want to discuss, not my daughter.'
They stood facing one another, the crowd flowing around them like a river around boulders.
'I discovered certain things about you,' Sebire went on, 'that were rather alarming.'
'Yes, I guessed it was you who initiated the investigation into my background. It must have come as a surprise to learn that Amy knew all about my past.'
'Whether or not you'd already informed her doesn't concern me. What does is the fact that you've been under police investigation.'
Childes sighed wearily. 'You know what that was all about; I don't have to explain myself.'
'Yes, I grant that you were cleared of any suspicion, but I have to say one thing, Childes: I don't believe you to be a very stable man. You revealed that when you were my dinner guest.'
'Look, I'm not going to argue with you. You can think what you like about me, but the truth is, I love your daughter and it should be fairly obvious even to you that she returns that love.'
'She's blinded by you for the moment, though God knows why. Do you realise I haven't seen Aimee since she moved in with you?'
'That's between you and her, Mr Sebire; I certainly haven't kept her away from you.'
'She's not for someone like you.' His voice had risen a tone and passers-by looked in their direction.
'That's for Amy to decide.'
'No, no it isn't-'
'Don't be ridiculous.'
'How dare-'
Another figure smoothly interposed itself between the two men. 'Paul, I think we should make our way to the main lawn,' Victor Platnauer said soothingly. 'The performances are about to begin and I'm afraid I have my usual speech to make.' He gave a short laugh. 'I'll try not to bore you too much this year, you gave me enough stick after last time. Please excuse us, Mr Childes. Now there's a point I want to raise about…' He gently led the financier away, continuing to speak placatingly, obviously anxious to avoid any upset to the day's proceedings.
Childes watched them go, regretting the brief but vitriolic exchange with Sebire, yet dissatisfied that nothing had been resolved. He hadn't meant to fall so deeply in love with Amy - what man or woman consciously rendered themselves so vulnerable? - but since he had, he would do his utmost to keep her. Though arguing with her father in public was hardly going to help matters. Come to that, nor was sleeping with Fran. He pushed the thought away, but guilt was a lingering reprover.
There were not too many people left around him by now, most having made their way to the rear of the college. Instead of following, Childes took the long way round, checking the quieter areas of the school grounds, keeping a wary eye on the bordering shrubbery and woodland, peering into the recessed doorways and shadowed corners of the building itself and the annexes.
Gulls wheeled lazily above, suddenly swooping out of sight as they dived below the nearby clifftops; the sound of surf breaking on the rocks came to him when he stopped for a few seconds and listened intently. A huge, furry bumble bee staggered sluggishly across the path before him, unable to fly, victim of premature summer mating. The sun beat down relentlessly, causing a shimmer above the ground in the near-distance.
Childes walked on, carefully stepping over the stumbling insect. A slight rustling somewhere to his left brought him to a halt once again until he saw, with relief, that the bushes from where the noise had come were low, incapable of concealing anything other than a smallish animal or bird. He resumed walking.
The hubbub of voices hit him as soon as he rounded the corner, the bustling panorama in sharp contrast to the quiet emptiness behind. Benches and chairs were laid out in long lines facing the building, leaving a wide expanse of green between them and the terrace to accommodate the display which was to be followed by speeches and prize-giving. Visitors and schoolgirls filled the benches, presenting a vibrant mixture of restless colours across the clear sweep of lawn. A yellow island-hopper plane flew low overhead, while a backdrop of trees behind the assemblage stood lush against the strikingly blue sky.
Childes made his way along the gravel path fringing the lawn and, seeing that all the seats allocated to staff and guest dignitaries had been taken, moved on towards the back rows. Finding an empty place, he sat and waited for the activities to begin.
On the terrace, Miss Piprelly was seated alongside members of the governing board, representatives of the parents' association and chosen teachers, before a long table containing trophies, rolled certificates, raffle prizes and a somewhat ancient-looking microphone. A short, wide flight of stone steps led up to the terrace, and the old grey stone building which housed classrooms and dormitories loomed up darkly behind, while the whit
e tower of the more recent building, which housed the assembly hall and gymnasium, reigned over all.
The crowd settled as La Roche's principal rose to speak and Childes, with the warmth of the sun on his back, seriously began to doubt his earlier misgivings.
36
Jeanette lay on her bed, head propped up by pillows and cushions, knees raised high with the hem of her light blue dress stretched over them, white-stockinged feet digging into the quilt beneath her. A less than immaculate black-and-white Pierrot doll sat on her stomach, back resting against her thighs, wide stiffened ruff framing its smooth face with its tearfully sad expression. She despondently picked at the cotton buttons of the doll's tunic.
Jeanette should have been outside with the other girls in her class, but had sneaked away, wanting only to be alone. They all had their parents and brothers and sisters with them, while she had no one, and to be among them only made her miss her own parents more. Besides, she hadn't been chosen for the dancing display and certainly had no gymnastics prowess, and knew there would be no awards or certificates waiting on the prize table for her. There never were! Oh yes, once she'd won a merit badge for embroidery, but the earth had hardly moved for that. Perhaps it was just as well that her parents hadn't flown all the way from South Africa just to sit with her on the sidelines and watch her friends collecting their prizes. Her father was an engineer of some kind - she never quite understood exactly what he did - and used the island as a base for his various journeys to other parts and different jobs, her mother often accompanying him. They'd be away for eighteen months this time - eighteen months! - but at least she would stay with them for two months as soon as the summer term was over. She missed them terribly, but didn't know if they missed her. They said they did, but then they would, wouldn't they? Of course we love you and miss you, darling, but it just isn't practical for you to be dragged halfway around the world and have your education broken up in such a way. Of course we want you with us, but learning must come first. Jeanette allowed Pierrot to tumble off her body and slide from the bed onto the floor. His woebegone expression had been making her miserable.