‘It’s a girl …?’ Mrs Salmon croaked.
I nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘We showed you a photograph of Evie,’ Mr Salmon reminded me anxiously.
‘We can’t go on visual evidence, I’m afraid,’ I said, trying to make it sound procedural, hoping that they wouldn’t ask me to elaborate.
‘Have they done something horrible to her?’ Her voice quaked.
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t go into details.’
‘Does she fit Evie’s description?’ Mr Salmon asked shakily.
‘You told me Evie left two years ago?’
‘Yes.’
‘And no one has reported having seen her since?’
They shared a glance. ‘No.’ Mr Salmon spoke for both of them.
‘I can’t be precise at this stage, but I can tell you that the time frame doesn’t appear to match Evie’s leaving. So you may be able to help us to eliminate her from the enquiry.’
‘How do we do that?’ Mr Salmon asked.
‘By telling me if she ever possessed a pair of shoes like this?’ I passed the photograph.
Mrs Salmon grabbed it. She stared at it for a moment, and then shook her head slowly, an expression of palpable relief forming. ‘No. Definitely not. She would never have been allowed anything as tarty as that.’
I glanced at her husband, who was looking over her shoulder. If anything his pallor had got worse.
‘Mr Salmon?’
He pulled a weak smile and shook his head. ‘Don’t ask me, I’m not an expert on the ladies’ shoe front.’ His voice was hoarse and soft. His way of expressing relief, I thought.
‘Poor girl.’ She handed back the photograph. She beamed at me. This one was someone else’s problem. Her world had clicked back into its safe and comfortable groove. ‘Will you stay and have a cup of tea?’
‘No, thanks.’
‘I’ll walk you down to your car,’ Mr Salmon offered.
I felt the bad vibe as soon as we started walking. ‘Are you all right, Mr Salmon?’ I asked.
‘Don’t turn round. Please don’t let her see you turn round. Just keep on walking.’ He still had the hoarse voice, but now he let me realize that it wasn’t relief. This was a man of ash and lye, an absolute inversion of joy.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Those were Evie’s forbidden shoes.’
‘But your wife …’
‘She never knew,’ he interrupted. He took a breath, which rattled in his throat. ‘I caught Evie in those shoes one night in Dinas when I arrived early to collect her from a party. She hadn’t had time to change back into the sensible ones. They were meant to be a secret, she’d saved up her earnings to buy them. I promised not to tell her mother.’
I kept on walking and waited for a reaction. But I didn’t feel the trapdoor drop beneath me. Just a wave of sadness. No shock, no surprise, no horror. Had I instinctively realized that it was Evie as soon as I had seen those devastated breasts and the piteous red shoes?
Poor Evie. I allowed her a short, silent benediction, and prepared to concentrate on her father. He was in the pre-grief stage, he was on his way to hell, he had started the flight, but didn’t know the destination yet. He was open and numb, and the state was as good as any truth drug.
He took a deep, shaky breath, and let the cry out from the heart. ‘We brought her here to be safe!’
‘When did she start running away?’ I probed gently.
‘It wasn’t running away to begin with. It started with not coming home on the school bus. Hanging around in Dinas. Then she started hitchhiking without telling us. Newtown at first, then Hereford or Aberystwyth. She would only call us to pick her up when she ran out of money to feed herself.’
‘Do you think she could have ended up living in any of those places?’
He shook his head, beginning to catch a glimpse of the abyss. ‘We don’t know. We’ve been visiting them all regularly since she went away, walking around, just hoping we might catch a sight of her.’
‘Did she have any close friends here? Boyfriends?’
‘She wouldn’t talk to us about anything like that. She would never bring kids she knew from school back here.’
‘You said she saved up her earnings to buy those shoes? Where did she work?’
‘Babysitting, mainly. And she helped the ladies at the Barn Gallery at Pen Twyn when it was open. And she used to help Mrs Evans over at Pentre Fawr with her horses.’ He smiled wanly at the memory. ‘She would help her with hers, but she had no interest in our animals.’
I felt the spark. ‘Would that be Mrs Gerald Evans?’ I asked, forcing myself to keep it flat. Pornographer, dog killer, rustler and cheat. And now?
He nodded disinterestedly. His flight path was tilting. He looked at me mutely. Despairingly. I knew that he wanted me to make it right again.
I forced a smile. ‘You said it yourself, you’re not an expert on ladies’ shoes. Nothing’s definite yet.’ I inserted a sensitive pause. ‘But just to make the elimination certain, someone is going to have to come out to see you.’
He looked at me dully.
‘To take DNA samples. And if it will help, we can put you in touch with counselling?’
He nodded slackly, and then put his hand out to stop me. ‘I’m going back up to the house. I’m going to have to tell her.’
I watched him walk back up the track towards her. She stood on tiptoe and gave me a last cheery wave.
I pretended that I hadn’t seen it. I couldn’t wave back. I was the one who had promised her that it wouldn’t be Evie.
To David Williams’s delight we were setting up the incident room in the defunct ballroom of The Fleece. I had had no part in the decision, but, for the prospect of his future generosity, I didn’t see the need to enlighten him of that.
The equipment was being delivered and assembled when I got back to Dinas. The SOCO team had been increased and were busy up at the construction site searching for more bodies. I had gone back to see if I could help, but they had made it very apparent that I wasn’t on the guest list.
Jack Galbraith had returned to Carmarthen to organize the command structures at that end. The bad news was that Bryn Jones was not going to be acting as his Chief Apostle as he had been called down to deal with a gypsy arson case near Fishguard. We would have to wait for the whole team to assemble tomorrow morning before we would know who was replacing him.
In the meantime I logged in the information I had got on Evie Salmon, and started the process for the collection of the DNA samples. I found a note from Bryn Jones informing me that Jack Galbraith had agreed to include me on the investigative team. I tried not to show my pleasure in the midst of other people’s pain and anguish, but it was hard to keep the self-satisfied smile off my face. It was a sad fact that the prospect of dealing with death and mutilation felt like a return to the nest.
To compensate I floated out a silent promise to Evie. We’re going to get him for you. Him? Her? I recalled last night’s spooked hunch on the hillside, the phantom tree root. Them?
I was helping the technicians assemble desks in the ballroom when David Williams stuck his head round the door. ‘I couldn’t find you. I’ve just taken a call from Dr MacLean.’
‘What did she want?’
‘She asked