Dancing With the Virgins (41 page)

*

When Owen Fox frowned, his eyebrows looked worn
and ragged. They tended to spread across his forehead
like well-used brushes. He took his hands away from
his face and studied them. He had fingers that were
thick and shabby, and his palms were creased like an
antiquarian map of the Peak, all narrow valleys and hills.

‘
I thought you brought me here to ask about the photographs,' he said.

‘
Not really,' said Tailby. 'Is that what you'd rather talk about?'

‘
I didn't know what I was doing.'

‘
That's what they all say.
’

Owen seemed to rally for a moment. 'In my case,' he
said, 'it's true.
’

He told them that he had bought the computer after his mother had died, using the money she left him. He needed a distraction to take his mind off his memories
of her. For so many years, she had been all that he had,
apart from his job. Other memories had begun to come
back to him, too — more memories of death
.

At first, Owen said, his only idea was to learn about computers because they were coming into the Ranger
Service and he didn't want to be left behind by the
young ones. He was terrified of having to retire early.
What would he retire to? So he bought the computer
to teach himself at home, where no one would see his
ignorance
.

He had heard of the internet, he said, but had never
thought of using it. It had come as a surprise that the
PC he ordered came complete with an internal modem
and pre-loaded with software to get free internet access.
Naturally, he had tried it out
.

At first, Owen had joined innocent newsgroups on
national parks and non-league football. He had found
a website for the Dry Stone Walling Association. But then he had begun to notice spam messages on the newsgroups, and out of curiosity he had visited the sites they were promoting. He had been absolutely amazed at what he had found. Amazed and guiltily
fascinated. There had never been anything like that in
the house at Cargreave, certainly not when Mum was
alive.

‘
If a TV programme got a bit saucy, we had to switch
it off,' he said
.

Then Owen learned how to download images on to his hard drive. He had found that he was spending more and more time on the net, surfing from site to site. He realized he was becoming addicted, but he
couldn't stop. He had missed parish council meetings
for the first time, and people in Cargreave had thought
he must be ill. He had been spending entire evenings
on the internet, forgetting to eat, staying up into the early hours of the morning
.

DCI Tailby nodded at that. The police team had found
Owen's latest phone bill — it showed three hundred hours of calls to an 0845 number
.

Owen said he had given his address several times
when asked to register for free access to new sites. Then
he had suddenly found that he was in contact with other people around the world, people he had never heard of, who sent him e-mail messages. He was
delighted that they addressed him as if he were an old
friend. They seemed to regard him as someone with the
same interests. He had become part of their community.

*

When Mark Roper had been sent home and Owen Fox
had been allowed a break, Diane Fry found DI Hitchens
already in the DCI's office. They watched her warily
when she produced a report sheet from the folder she
carried.

‘Yes, Fry? What have you got there?'

‘This is the latest surveillance report on Ringham Edge Farm.'

‘Have we still got that surveillance on?'

‘
We have. This is the report from last night.
’

‘
Riveting stuff, is it?' said Hitchens.

‘
Well, judge for yourself. On Friday, the two boys left
for school at the usual time in the morning. Their father
saw them off. After that, Warren Leach went about his
normal work on the farm, as far as could be ascertained
by the officers on surveillance duty. Their reports are a
bit lacking in technical detail, but some of Leach's
observed activities did involve cows and a tractor, so I
suppose we have to take it on trust.’

Tailby didn't seem interested. 'We could get Ben
Cooper to de-brief them, I suppose. He might spot some
anomalies, if you think it's worthwhile.'

‘
Maybe. The report goes on to say that the only visi
tors to the farm were the postman and the milk tanker
driver, both early in the morning. That was it until the
boys came home from school, when they were dropped
at the bottom of the lane by the school bus. There was
nobody at all for seven hours, apart from Leach. Not even a feed sales rep. It must be a pretty quiet life at Ringham Edge.'

‘It sounds idyllic to me at this moment.'

‘I'd call it downright tedious,' said Hitchens.

‘Saturday was even worse. The tanker driver came
as usual, but not the postman. There was no school for
the boys.'

‘
We can't justify continuing surveillance on the basis
of that sort of report. Call the team off, Paul.
’

‘
There is one thing, though,' said Fry.

‘
Yes?'

‘
DC Gardner was the last officer on surveillance duty.
She has added a note on the report at the end of her shift yesterday.'

‘What did she see?'

‘It's more a question of what she didn't see.’

Tailby began to get irritated. 'Don't play Sherlock Holmes with me, Fry. That's my role.'

‘
Sorry, sir. Gardner says that she understood there
were two adults and two children resident at Ringham
Edge. She observed the movements of the boys and
their father, but not their mother. She never saw any
sign of the mother at all, on either of her shifts. DC
Gardner queries the whereabouts of Mrs Yvonne Leach.'
Tailby sat up straight. 'Damn.'

‘
Do you think it might be important?' said Hitchens.

‘
It's something we've overlooked. Check the rest of
the surveillance reports, Paul. But I'm pretty sure that
you'll find she was never mentioned. Not in any of
them. But nobody thought that was in the least remark
able, did they? Not until Toni Gardner.'

‘
The others probably assumed Mrs Leach was slaving
over the kitchen sink or something,' said Fry.
'Idiots.'

‘
If she was there, she would have seen the boys off
to school in the morning, at least. In fact, she would
probably have walked them down the lane to the bus.
There's a killer about somewhere, after all. Any mother
would do that. If she was there.'

‘
Yes, you're right, Fry. Let's establish when she was last seen. We've all been going up and down that lane
for a week, right past the gate. Somebody must have
seen her.'

‘Can I take Ben Cooper with me?' asked Fry.

Tailby nodded. 'Good idea. Keep his head down and
his mind focused.' He looked at Hitchens. 'I've got a bad feeling, Paul.'

‘
There's probably an innocent explanation. She may
have gone away to stay with a relative or something for a while. She may be ill in bed. There's a bit of flu about, they reckon.'

‘
I've still got a bad feeling.
Everything
about this case
gives me a bad feeling.’

*

When they finally let Mark Roper leave, he knew exactly
where he had to go. Though Owen had said the local
farmers were important, and that Rangers had a good
relationship with them, Ringham Edge was one farm where Mark could see it wasn't true. Warren Leach reminded him of the man his mother lived with, his
so-called stepfather – a man who needed everyone to
be submissive to his will to be at ease with himself.

Leach regarded the Ranger with unconcealed hostil
ity when Mark found him in the tractor shed.

‘
Well, if it isn't Ranger Junior. What do you want?’

Mark tried to recall Owen's advice about dealing with
aggressive reactions. Sometimes you had to turn the other cheek, he said, to ignore rudeness and provocation. He had called it diplomacy.

‘
I want to talk to you about Owen Fox, Mr Leach.
’

‘
Him? I heard he got a bit of a shock. Found out what
he's been up to, have they?'

‘Do you know anything about it?'

‘I know I'm not likely to shed any tears over him,' said Leach. 'I've got my sons to think of.’

Mark frowned. It wasn't the response he had expected. 'What about your sons?'

‘
What about them?' Leach looked suddenly even
less friendly. 'I hope you're not interested in my
lads, Ranger Junior. What's your mate been teaching
you?'

‘I don't know what you mean.'

‘Some folk took it out on those two youths in the quarry. But personally, I would have trusted those
youths a damn sight more with my boys than I'd ever
trust that friend of yours.’

Now Mark was confused. The conversation seemed to have drifted away from him to some other subject.
'Who are you talking about?'

‘Who do you think?' Leach laughed, without any
humour. 'I'm talking about the Lone Ranger. God in a
red jacket. Your mate, Owen Fox. Do you know the kids
round here call him Father Christmas? When he goes
in the schools, they think Santa has arrived. I bet he
likes to, get the little boys on his knee and give them a
nice present, all right.’

For a moment, Mark didn't understand what the farmer was saying.

‘
What's up?' said Leach. 'Bounced you on his lap a
time or two as well, has he? I'd have thought you were
too old for him. I reckon he likes them a bit younger,
the dirty bastard.’

Mark felt the anger rushing up through his body before he even understood the reason for it. It was a physical response, visceral and frightening, a great
flood of rage burning through his veins and overwhelm
ing his judgement. Before he knew what was happen
ing, he had hurled himself at the farmer, lashing out
wildly with his fists.

Leach spread his shoulders, drew back a meaty hand
and punched Mark in the mouth, knocking him down.
The farmer laughed, thrilled at the chance to hit some
body. Mark got back up, flushed and furious, but his
blows were uncontrolled and fell harmlessly against
Leach's chest and shoulders. The farmer knocked him to the floor twice more with blows to the face, until the
Ranger was bloodied and crying.

Mark wiped the blood from his mouth and touched
a loose tooth. He knew he was helpless. But the only
thing he could think of was that he wanted to tell Leach
that he wasn't crying because of the pain.

Then Leach noticed his sons watching, wide-eyed,
from the corner of the shippon. He looked at Mark on
the floor and saw that he was only a boy, too, beaten
and humiliated.

‘Go on, clear off,' he said.

*

As soon as the Ranger had gone, Warren Leach felt a
black depression descend on him. The boys had van
ished somewhere. They didn't even have the excuse of
the calf needing attention now. The animal had brought
in a bit of money at market. Not much, but enough to
pay a fraction of the bills. They had food on the table
for a day or two, and a cupboard full of bottles of whisky, which was one of the necessities these days, Leach was discovering.

The boys had gone somewhere they didn't think he
would find them. They didn't want to be near their
father any more, he realized that. Why should his own
sons avoid him? He was sure it was because of their mother. After all these years, she seemed to have
become his enemy. He was convinced she was in touch
with the boys somehow, turning them against him. He didn't know how she was doing it, but she was poisoning their brains. They had always been such good lads
before.

Leach was aware he hadn't always been a perfect
father. And he shouldn't have let Will and Dougie see
him hitting the young Ranger. At first, he had thought
they would admire him, see him as the strong father
he used to be, a man who was afraid of no one. But the
feeling didn't last long. It became mingled with a sense
of shame. The boy he had beaten could just as easily
have been one of his own sons, in a few years' time.

When Leach tried to think about what had happened
in his life over the last couple of months, his mind shied
and balked at the enormity of it. It was a problem so
huge that he couldn't contemplate it, couldn't even begin to consider how to cope with it. He could only
follow helplessly the little trickles of thought that ran
this way and that in his brain, seeking a way out of the
nightmare.

And finally, Warren Leach faced the possibility that
he might not be around to see his sons reach Mark Roper's age.