Child's Play by Alison Taylor Page B

escort. ‘Tell me,’ he asked, ‘could Sukie swim?’
    ‘ She could stay afloat in the pool, but she wasn’t a swimmer.’ Trying to regain lost ground, she went on, ‘Of course, the Strait and its shores are completely out of bounds and, in fact, fenced off for most of the length. The girls who go sailing are always accompanied by professional instructors and I don’t need to tell you no one swims in those treacherous waters.’
    He folded his arms and again regarded her steadily. ‘Dr Scott, if you seriously expect me to believe the girls stick to your rules, you’re taking me for a fool.’

 
     
    7
     
    Once Freya had been taken to an interview room to make a statement about Sukie’s disappearance and its aftermath, McKenna set off for the school. Even if the Melvilles had left home as soon as they were told of their daughter’s death they would not arrive before ten o’clock that night, for north Wales was a long way from Newbury. It was a long way from anywhere, he reflected, both physically and psychologically, but it was a distance fostering prejudice rather than mystery. The English had a perception of Ireland, where his forebears had lived; they had views on Scotland, albeit mostly engineered by the Scots; they held opinions about the England beyond their own small patch; but somehow Wales, and particularly her remote and mountainous north, was lost in between. People visited for holidays, huddled together for safety, and left more ignorant and biased than when they arrived.
    The high granite walls around the Hermitage with their topping of trees laid deep shadows along a substantial stretch of the road, and although the sun was still well above the horizon, the car’s automatic headlights blinked on as soon as he hit the shadow.
    A driverless white security van, parked close to the wall, partially obscured the school name board and the gates were barred by an area patrol car. Recognising him, the driver backed away with a roar and the policeman manning the gates jumped to attention. ‘Where are the security guards?’ McKenna asked.
    ‘ In the patrol car, sir. I wasn’t sure if they’re allowed on site. Their boss has told them about the girl’s death, but said it would be better if they came on duty as arranged. They both did the evening shift on Tuesday and finished at two in the morning.’
    ‘ And where’s Randall?’
    ‘ He’s taken his dog to the vet’s for its booster jabs. Inspector Tuttle gave permission.’
    ‘ Keep the guards where they are for the time being,’ McKenna decided. ‘I’ll send someone down to take statements from them.’
    The way through the woods was a dizzying affair and twice McKenna overshot the sharp bends, his car coming to rest the second time mere inches from the trunk of an old oak. When he finally cleared the trees and the school came into view on the crest of the rise he was disappointed, for the gates, the drive, the tantalising barrier of trees, created an expectation that was not fulfilled. The place resembled a barracks, and the litter of police cars, vans and personnel carriers on the forecourt looked quite at home there. The huge wagon housing the mobile incident room was parked to one side under the trees, dwarfing its canteen trailer.
    As he shut the car door he heard the throaty, unmistakable voice of a German Shepherd, then Bryn crashed out of the thickets to his right, his handler a few feet behind. The dog’s paws were covered in mud.
    McKenna leaned against the car. Bryn sat on his haunches, gazing up at him, eyes alight with fierce intelligence. ‘So, what have you found for me?’ McKenna asked, meeting the dog’s gaze. He was sorely tempted to stroke the animal’s beautiful head.
    The handler smiled wryly. ‘D’you really want to know, sir? Fag packets, used condoms, glue and aerosol containers, bottles and cans by the barrow load, shoes and trainers, various items of clothing plus male and female underwear, a mountain of paper