Robin felt as though Wace’s hands touched her again when Strike spoke his name. Gooseflesh rose once more over her torso.
‘I don’t know. Possibly.’
Strike pulled out his phone and brought up the photographs of the Polaroids again. Robin, who felt she’d looked at them quite enough, turned to look out of the window at the graveyard.
‘Well, we know one thing about Rose, if that’s her real name,’ said Strike, eyes on the chubby girl with the long black hair. ‘She hadn’t been at Chapman Farm very long before this happened. She’s too well nourished. All the others are very skinny. I could’ve sworn,’ said Strike, his gaze moving to the youth with the skull tattoo, ‘that guy was Reaney. His reaction when I showed him the – oh, shit. Hang on.
Robin looked round again.
‘Henry Worthington-Fields,’ said Strike, ‘told me a man called Joe recruited him into the church, in a gay bar.’
‘So if that really is Joe, “Rose” looks much more credible as the name of the dark girl. Of course,’ said Strike thoughtfully, ‘there’s
‘Yes,’ said Robin. ‘The photographer.’
‘Precisely. Judges don’t tend to look very kindly on people who photograph other people being raped.’
‘The photographer and the abuser must have been one and the same, surely?’
‘I wonder,’ said Strike.
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Maybe the price of not having to whip himself across the face again was for Reaney to take dirty pictures? What if he was forced to take them, by the ringmaster?’
‘Well, it’d explain Carrie’s insistence she didn’t know who the photographer was,’ said Robin. ‘I doubt many people would welcome Jordan Reaney having a grudge against them or their families.’
‘Too true.’
Having eaten the last of the Yorkie bar, Strike picked up his pen again and began making a ‘to do’ list.
‘OK, so we need to try and trace Joe and Rose. I’d also like to clarify whether Wace was absent from the farm that morning, because Carrie tied herself up in knots there, didn’t she?’
‘How’re we supposed to find that out, after all this time?’
‘Christ knows, but can’t hurt to try,’ said Strike.
He started unenthusiastically on his apple. Robin had just finished her sandwich when her phone rang.
‘Hi,’ said Murphy. ‘How’s it going in Thornbury?’
Strike, who thought he recognised Murphy’s voice, feigned interest in the passenger side of the road.
‘Good,’ said Robin. ‘Well – interesting.’
‘If you fancy coming over this evening, I’ve got something you’ll also find interesting.’
‘What?’ asked Robin.
‘The interview tapes of the people who’re accusing you of child abuse.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘Needless to say, I shouldn’t have them. Called in a favour.’
The idea of seeing anyone from Chapman Farm again, even on film, gave Robin goosebumps for the second time in ten minutes.
‘OK,’ she said, checking her watch, ‘what time will you be home?’
‘Eightish, probably. I’ve got a lot to catch up on here.’
‘OK, great, I’ll see you then.’
She hung up. Strike, who gathered from what he’d just overheard that Robin and Murphy’s relationship had not, in fact, fallen apart during the separation, said,
‘Everything OK?’
‘Fine,’ said Robin. ‘Ryan’s managed to get hold of the interview tapes of the people saying I abused Jacob.’
‘Ah,’ said Strike. ‘Right.’
He not only resented Murphy being able to access information he couldn’t, he resented Murphy being in a position to inform or assist Robin, when he couldn’t.
Robin was now staring ahead through the windscreen. Her pulse was racing: the child abuse accusation, which she’d tried to relegate to the back of her mind, now seemed to loom over her, blocking out the August sun.
Strike, who suspected what was going through Robin’s mind, said,
‘They’re not going to go through with it. They’ll have to drop it.’
‘Well, I hope so.’
‘Any other thoughts on Carrie Curtis Woods?’ said Strike, hoping to distract her.
‘Um…’ said Robin, forcing herself to concentrate, ‘yes, actually. Carrie asking what had happened to Becca was odd. She didn’t seem to remember any of the other kids.’
Strike, who hadn’t particularly registered this point at the time, said,
‘Yeah, now you mention it – remind me how old was Becca, when Daiyu died?’
‘Eleven,’ said Robin. ‘So she wouldn’t have been in the kids’ dormitory that night. Too old. And then we’ve got “It wasn’t a joke, it wasn’t pretend”, haven’t we?’
Yet again, both sat in silence, but this time, their thoughts were running on parallel tracks.
‘I think Carrie knows or believes Daiyu’s dead,’ said Robin. ‘I don’t know… maybe it really
‘Two drownings, in exactly the same place? No body? Possibly drugged drinks? An escape through a window?’
Strike pulled his seat belt back across himself.
‘No,’ he said, ‘Daiyu was either murdered, or she’s still alive.’
‘Which are
