‘I’ll ring Gareth,’ said Alice, getting to her feet. ‘He can bring some new locks home with him.’

‘Very wise,’ agreed Rushton. ‘But just hold on a sec, lass. I’m afraid that’s not all. You should probably sit down.’

Alice looked at the kitchen door. ‘I really need to check on the kids,’ she said.

‘Evi’s with them,’ Harry reminded her, wondering if the social worker would offer to go and see if the children were OK. She didn’t. Alice took her seat again.

‘Where do you do your dry-cleaning, Mrs Fletcher?’ asked Rushton.

‘My what?’ asked Alice.

‘Dry-cleaning. There’s a couple of places down in Goodshaw Bridge, do you use either of those?’

‘I suppose I would,’ agreed Alice, ‘if I ever had anything to take. But I probably use dry-cleaners once a year.’

There was a moment’s silence, while Rushton and Jove exchanged glances.

‘I have three children,’ Alice continued, as though worried they might not believe her. ‘I paint for a living and my husband is a builder. As a general rule, if something won’t wash, I won’t buy it.’

‘Sound thinking,’ said Rushton, nodding his head. ‘My suits cost a fortune to keep clean, according to the wife. So, have you ever tried these home dry-cleaning kits? You know, when you shove everything in a bag with a load of chemicals and put it in the tumble-dryer?’

‘I’ve never heard of such things,’ said Alice.

‘So you won’t mind if Stacey here and her colleagues have a quick look round your cupboards, make sure there’s nothing you’ve forgotten?’

Alice thought about it for a second. ‘Be my guest,’ she said. ‘You won’t find them very tidy.’

Rushton turned and nodded to the WPC. She left the room.

‘We’re struggling with the dry-cleaning connection,’ said Harry.

‘The floor’s yours, Jove,’ said Rushton, leaning back in his chair. In the hallway, Harry could hear the sound of the front door opening and closing as someone, he guessed the WPC, left the house.

‘The crime-scene investigators found something in your garden last night that puzzled us,’ said DI Neasden, speaking to Alice. ‘We thought it was just a tissue of some sort at first but we photographed it, bagged it and took it to the lab, as we do.’

The front door opened again. Footsteps were coming towards the kitchen.

‘About thirty minutes ago, we got a phone call from them, saying they’ve managed to identify it,’ he continued. ‘It’s an essential part of a home dry-cleaning kit. A sort of cotton pad, soaked in stain-removing chemicals, that you put into the tumble-dryer with your clothes. If you do your dry-cleaning at home, that is.’

‘I’m going to have to talk to the wife about them,’ said Rushton, who was leaning back quite precariously by this stage.

‘Yes, thanks, Boss. Anyway…’

The kitchen door opened and the WPC was back, with two colleagues, both male. ‘OK to start in here, sir?’ she asked. Rushton nodded, lowering the front legs of his chair to the floor again.

‘The utility room’s through there,’ said Alice, indicating the back door. The two uniformed men left the kitchen, while the WPC knelt down and opened the cupboard under Alice’s sink.

‘Where was I?’ said DI Neasden. ‘Right, the dry-cleaning pad. Obviously, we wonder what it’s doing in your garden. It has a strong residue of chemicals clinging to it and it wasn’t particularly wet or muddy when we picked it up, suggesting that, like the footprints, it was left in your garden last night. The lab also say they’ve found traces of the same chemical in your husband’s gym bag.’

‘The dry-cleaning pad was in the bag,’ said Harry. Everyone ignored him.

‘Any reason why your husband might have a dry-cleaning kit in his gym bag?’ asked DI Neasden.

Alice shook her head. ‘Gareth can’t work the washing machine,’ she said.

‘Now, dry-cleaning fluids have a very distinctive smell,’ said Rushton, who seemed unable to keep quiet any longer. ‘You must know, Reverend, all your lovely robes must have to be professionally cleaned.’

Harry nodded. ‘Quite takes your breath away when you take them out of the plastic covers.’

‘And when we took the sheets off your daughter’s bed, we just got a whiff of something. Well, Jove did, to be honest. Very good nose.’

‘How has she been today?’ asked Neasden. ‘Have you noticed anything unusual? The GP took a look at her last night, didn’t he?’

‘He did,’ said Alice, who was starting to look frightened again. ‘I probably should just go and see…’

‘I’ll go,’ said Harry, getting to his feet. He stepped back from the table and stopped. He didn’t want to leave, he wanted to hear where this was leading.

‘The doctor said she seemed fine,’ continued Alice. ‘A bit drowsy, but otherwise OK. He wasn’t worried about her, just asked me to bring her in later today.’

‘Any coughing? Runny nose? Red eyes?’ asked Neasden.

Alice nodded. ‘She has been rubbing her eyes a lot. What’s happened to her?’

‘The thing that puzzled us most about your son’s story,’ said Rushton, ‘because something was telling me he wasn’t lying, was how this intruder could get a small child into a hold-all without her yelling merry hell and waking the entire house up. It’s starting to make a bit more sense now.’

‘I still don’t see…’ Harry had moved as far as the door.

‘The principle component of these dry-cleaning pads is polyglycolether,’ said DI Neasden.

‘What?’ said Alice.

‘Miss off the fancy first bit,’ said Rushton. ‘Ether is what we’re talking about. Been used for donkeys’ years as a pretty crude anaesthetic. I’m sorry to say it, but it looks like someone held a pad soaked in ether against Millie’s face. It almost certainly wouldn’t have worked with an adult, probably not even on one of your lads, but given how small she is and the fact that she was sleeping anyway, it was probably just sufficient to keep her drowsy enough to put her in the bag.’

Alice gave a tiny cry and set off towards Harry.

‘I’m going,’ he muttered, and pulled open the kitchen door. Four strides took him to the door of the living room. He pulled it open, knowing that Alice was hot on his heels. Evi and the three children were sitting on the floor. Four faces, impossible to say which was the prettiest, turned to him. He was still trying to decide when Alice squeezed past him.

‘Um, um,’ called Millie, her little face lighting up, before squawking in annoyance as her mother scooped her up and pressed her against her chest.

Rushton and DI Neasden came into the room.

‘Right then,’ announced Rushton. ‘Schoolboy Superhero Tom and his trusty sidekick, Joe the Invincible, I think we need another word with you two.’

‘PERHAPS THEY’LL PUT A PLAQUE FOR US HERE AFTER we’re dead and gone,’ said Harry. ‘Are you cold?’

‘Why?’ asked Evi. Are you going to offer me your coat?’ Harry carried on staring straight ahead. ‘I’ll share it,’ he offered. Evi waited for him to turn towards her, to grin. He didn’t move.

‘You look tired,’ she said, although the truth was he didn’t just look tired. He looked thinner, older. The man she’d met in the hospital that morning hadn’t been the Harry she knew. Someone else had taken his place. Someone else was still there.

‘Yeah, well, I spent the first half of the night thinking about you,’ he said, still keeping his eyes fixed on the building across the street. ‘Then I got a phone call.’

Evi knew from the empty feeling in her stomach that it must be the middle of the day, but the sun hadn’t made it through the mist yet. So high on the moor, she could almost feel it, cold and clammy, stealing its way into her lungs.

‘I really need to see how Gillian is doing,’ she said, knowing the last thing she wanted to do was to go back into that flat. She pushed herself forward on the bench and looked down the hill. ‘Walk me to my car?’ she asked.