surprising, as Cassie had always told Petal not to go out of sight of Stone Cottage and, as the undergrowth was very thick – in places, really hard to get through – Molly couldn’t imagine a little girl with bare legs attempting to force her way in.
‘Tough going, isn’t it?’ the writer man said to her after about an hour. ‘I believe you know Petal well. Do you think it’s likely she would have come this way?’
‘Not if she was on her own, but then, if she was taken, theperson might have carried her,’ Molly replied. ‘The police must know what they’re doing. By the way, I’m Molly Heywood. I don’t think we’ve met before.’
‘I’ve seen you in the grocer’s,’ he said, pausing for just a second and leaning on the stout stick he was carrying. ‘I’m Simon Fairweather.’
At nine they stopped for refreshments in a field. Mr Henderson, a retired schoolteacher who lived close to the field, announced that they’d covered two miles. He had a pedometer and had measured the distance. ‘It seemed a lot further than that,’ Molly said, with some surprise. She knew the area pretty well, but she hadn’t ever walked right through the wood before to get to where they were now. ‘But then it was such hard going, climbing up one minute, then climbing down, and through all those brambles and shrubs.’
‘It didn’t look to me as if anyone had been through there in months,’ Mr Henderson said. ‘No broken branches or trampling underfoot. I saw a few tracks made by small animals, but nothing by a human.’
‘You trained in tracking under Chief Sitting Bull, then?’ Simon asked teasingly.
Mr Henderson laughed good-naturedly. ‘Well, all those cowboy-and-Indian films I watched as a kid must have taught me something,’ he said.
‘Cassie used to take Petal out in the woods to find wood for the fire,’ Molly said. ‘They used to follow animal tracks. I went with them several times, but Petal hated being scratched. I don’t think she’d flee into thick undergrowth, not even if she was scared. She’d have run for the road.’
‘I think you’re right there,’ Simon agreed. ‘From what I’ve seen of Petal, I’d agree entirely.’
‘You knew her and Cassie then?’ Molly asked.
Simon nodded. ‘I like walking, and I often do a circular walk, coming back past Stone Cottage. Cassie always spoke to me, offered me a drink or whatever. I stayed for supper with them once.’
Molly thought it a little odd that Cassie had never mentioned him. Simon Fairweather was most definitely the kind of man you would mention meeting.
‘Did you go to the police and tell them that?’
He looked startled, his grey eyes widening. ‘No. Well, why would I? I didn’t have a relationship with Cassie, it was only the odd chat.’
‘But you must have formed an opinion about her, picked up little snippets that might be useful to the police?’
He looked doubtful about that, and it crossed Molly’s mind that he may have had a bit of a fling with Cassie. She was very easy about sex. Just a couple of months ago she’d cheerfully admitted to having sex in a field with a man she’d met an hour before in the library.
‘Don’t worry. It was a one-off.’ Cassie had laughed at her friend’s shocked expression. ‘He didn’t have a clue, and I didn’t like him enough to coach him.’
Remembering that admission made Molly wonder if she should tell the police about it; she didn’t want to portray Cassie in a bad way but that man could be her killer.
‘I think you ought to talk to the police, Simon,’ she said. ‘I keep remembering little things that may or may not be important. One thing I was just reminded of is a bit embarrassing, but I think I ought to pass it on.’
‘Someone she slept with?’ he asked.
‘Umm …’ Molly hung her head.
‘I didn’t sleep with her,’ Simon said. ‘I liked her, but that was all.’
Molly felt she believed him. ‘What did you talk to her about?’
Simon
‘Tough going, isn’t it?’ the writer man said to her after about an hour. ‘I believe you know Petal well. Do you think it’s likely she would have come this way?’
‘Not if she was on her own, but then, if she was taken, theperson might have carried her,’ Molly replied. ‘The police must know what they’re doing. By the way, I’m Molly Heywood. I don’t think we’ve met before.’
‘I’ve seen you in the grocer’s,’ he said, pausing for just a second and leaning on the stout stick he was carrying. ‘I’m Simon Fairweather.’
At nine they stopped for refreshments in a field. Mr Henderson, a retired schoolteacher who lived close to the field, announced that they’d covered two miles. He had a pedometer and had measured the distance. ‘It seemed a lot further than that,’ Molly said, with some surprise. She knew the area pretty well, but she hadn’t ever walked right through the wood before to get to where they were now. ‘But then it was such hard going, climbing up one minute, then climbing down, and through all those brambles and shrubs.’
‘It didn’t look to me as if anyone had been through there in months,’ Mr Henderson said. ‘No broken branches or trampling underfoot. I saw a few tracks made by small animals, but nothing by a human.’
‘You trained in tracking under Chief Sitting Bull, then?’ Simon asked teasingly.
Mr Henderson laughed good-naturedly. ‘Well, all those cowboy-and-Indian films I watched as a kid must have taught me something,’ he said.
‘Cassie used to take Petal out in the woods to find wood for the fire,’ Molly said. ‘They used to follow animal tracks. I went with them several times, but Petal hated being scratched. I don’t think she’d flee into thick undergrowth, not even if she was scared. She’d have run for the road.’
‘I think you’re right there,’ Simon agreed. ‘From what I’ve seen of Petal, I’d agree entirely.’
‘You knew her and Cassie then?’ Molly asked.
Simon nodded. ‘I like walking, and I often do a circular walk, coming back past Stone Cottage. Cassie always spoke to me, offered me a drink or whatever. I stayed for supper with them once.’
Molly thought it a little odd that Cassie had never mentioned him. Simon Fairweather was most definitely the kind of man you would mention meeting.
‘Did you go to the police and tell them that?’
He looked startled, his grey eyes widening. ‘No. Well, why would I? I didn’t have a relationship with Cassie, it was only the odd chat.’
‘But you must have formed an opinion about her, picked up little snippets that might be useful to the police?’
He looked doubtful about that, and it crossed Molly’s mind that he may have had a bit of a fling with Cassie. She was very easy about sex. Just a couple of months ago she’d cheerfully admitted to having sex in a field with a man she’d met an hour before in the library.
‘Don’t worry. It was a one-off.’ Cassie had laughed at her friend’s shocked expression. ‘He didn’t have a clue, and I didn’t like him enough to coach him.’
Remembering that admission made Molly wonder if she should tell the police about it; she didn’t want to portray Cassie in a bad way but that man could be her killer.
‘I think you ought to talk to the police, Simon,’ she said. ‘I keep remembering little things that may or may not be important. One thing I was just reminded of is a bit embarrassing, but I think I ought to pass it on.’
‘Someone she slept with?’ he asked.
‘Umm …’ Molly hung her head.
‘I didn’t sleep with her,’ Simon said. ‘I liked her, but that was all.’
Molly felt she believed him. ‘What did you talk to her about?’
Simon
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