HARRY OPENED THE DOOR TO THE CHURCH CRYPT. THE stale smell of things long since forgotten came stealing up towards him. He picked up the flashlight and the box of tools he’d brought from his car.

The darkness below seemed to have grown denser. Rushton and his team would be up here as soon as it was light. They’d be able to turn the church and the crypt upside-down. It would be stupid for him to do anything that might jeopardize that search. On the other hand, dawn was eleven hours away. Joe could be down there now.

But it had been so much easier to walk down those steps when it was daylight outside, when he hadn’t been alone and before the corpses of murdered children started turning up. Last time he’d stood here, evil hadn’t come close enough to stroke him on the back of the neck. He shone the torch down. It was a powerful beam, but even so he couldn’t see more than a dozen steps. He was still on the first.

The door key was in the lock. If he went down and left it there, someone could close the door softly, turn the key and… the key went into his pocket. He took a deep breath, pulled his shoulders back. This was ridiculous. He was a grown man. It was just a cellar. Was this to be the night he learned he was a coward?

In the beam of the torch the darkness seemed to be moving, as though gathering its forces, waiting for him to dare, knowing he probably wouldn’t. He was a man of God. In a church. Was this also to be the night he learned his faith was a sham?

‘Though I walk though the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,’ whispered Harry, and immediately felt worse. Anyone listening would know he was lying. He was very afraid. ‘I will fear no evil,’ he tried again, ‘for you are with me.’

He was still on the top step and Joe, tiny six-year-old Joe, could be below, cold and terrified, trapped in one of those stone chests.

‘For you are with me,’ repeated Harry. He hadn’t moved. ‘Oh, fuck it,’ he said, and went down.

‘TAKE IT EASY,’ SAID STEVE, LEANING DOWN AND speaking to Evi through the window of her car. ‘It’s a long way and there’s a hard frost forecast.’

She didn’t need telling that. She could see Steve’s breath spiralling away into the darkness. The frost was already starting to gleam on the dry stone walls that lined the narrow road. ‘I’ll be careful,’ said Evi. ‘And thank you.’

Seeming reluctant to let her go, Steve crouched lower and leaned both forearms on the window ledge. ‘A couple more things occur to me,’ he said. ‘These girls were taken for a reason. When children are abducted, the obvious motive is to fulfil a sexual need.’

Evi had to bite her lip. Joe was there again, hovering like a little ghost in the driveway. ‘I know this child, Steve,’ she said. ‘He has dark-red hair and freckles and-’

‘Stop it.’

Evi blinked hard.

‘His mother can weep about his red hair and freckles. You have to stick to the facts if you’re going to be any use to him. Now, Megan and Hayley were both found wearing the clothes they were last seen alive in. Does that suggest sexual abuse to you?’

‘Makes it less likely,’ agreed Evi. ‘So if the killer’s motive isn’t sexual, we’re looking for something else?’

‘Second, the place they’re killed is important. There is a reason why they’re dropped from the church balcony.’

‘I agree,’ she said. ‘So does Harry. He thinks it’s all about the church.’

‘Third, there is a link between these victims, including Joe,’ said Steve. ‘Whoever took them had a connection with all of them. Otherwise, he or she would have gone much further afield to find their victims and in doing so would have reduced the chances of being caught. He or she stuck to home ground, suggesting to me it couldn’t be just any girls, it had to be those particular ones. Find the link and you’ll find the killer.’

‘Or find Ebba.’

‘Exactly. Will the GP talk to you, do you think?’

Evi shrugged. ‘I have no idea,’ she said. ‘He might think I’m ambushing him when I turn up at Saturday-morning surgery.’

‘Well, you have to give it a try.’

‘I know. Are your knees up to prolonged crouching?’

‘No part of my body is up to anything much these days. Call me when you’ve spoken to him.’

‘Will do.’

‘And stop beating yourself up about Harry. Up until this morning you did everything by the book. People don’t get struck off for a moment of poor judgement.’

‘I’m so grateful, Steve.’

‘Now are you sure I can’t get you anything for the pain?’

Evi shook her head. ‘It’s not that bad, really. I’ll have something as soon as I get home.’

‘OK.’ Steve stood up, then seemed to think of something and bent down to the window again. ‘There’s something about Joe that’s bothering me, Evi. He doesn’t fit. The detective’s right about that at least. He’s needed for something else.’

TOM WAS SHIVERING. THE GLASS WAS COLD AND THE WALL was cold and everything was cold but he couldn’t move. Not until he’d seen the thin beam of light travel up the churchyard path. He started counting. Ten, eleven, twelve. By thirty, his dad would be home.

He heard the sound of a key turning downstairs and the front door opening. His dad was coming back from his look around the graveyard and he would have Joe in his arms, cold, tired, annoying as hell, but Joe all the same. His dad had found him, he just knew it. Tom was running across the carpet, opening his bedroom door, reaching the top of the stairs. Gareth stood in the hall below, still wearing his heavy outdoor coat. He glanced up. He was alone.

Tom watched as his dad took off his coat and slung it over a chair in the hallway before climbing the stairs. He reached the top, put both hands on his eldest son’s shoulders and turned him round. The two of them walked back into Tom’s bedroom. Tom climbed into Joe’s bed; his dad didn’t comment. He knelt on the carpet and stroked his son’s head.

‘Dad, I’m sorry.’ Tom had been waiting all evening for the chance to say it, but this was the first time he and his father had been alone.

His dad looked puzzled. ‘What for, matey?’

‘For not watching him. I know I’m supposed to look after him.’

His father took a deep breath and seemed to shudder. Suddenly his eyes were wet. Tom had never seen his father cry before. ‘Tom, it wasn’t your fault,’ he said, his cold hand taking hold of Tom’s. ‘It wasn’t your job to watch him. There were teachers there. Never, ever think it was your fault.’

Tom had never heard his father lie before.

‘We’ll find him, won’t we, Dad? Promise me we’ll find him.’

Gareth’s mouth twisted and he pulled it straight again with an effort. ‘I’ll spend the rest of my life looking, Tom,’ he said. ‘I promise you that.’

Gareth wrapped one arm round his son and leaned his head against the pillow. Tom, determined to stay awake until Joe came back, found his eyes starting to feel heavy. His dad hadn’t promised that Joe would be found, only that he wouldn’t stop looking for him. Just the one lie, then. That’s all he was going to get.