Page 224 of The Running Grave

‘Thank you,’ said Robin.

She smelled Mazu’s particular odour of grime and incense as she passed the two furious women. Down the hall Robin hurried, the baby wailing overhead, her mind a hum of panic, her body burning where Wace had touched her, as though he’d branded her through her clothes.

Run, now.

But they’ll see me on the cameras.

Robin pushed through the dragon-carved doors. The sun was sinking bloodily in the sky. People were criss-crossing the courtyard, busy about their after-dinner tasks. Robin headed automatically for Daiyu’s pool, its dimpled surface glittering like rubies in the sunset, the constant patter of the fountain in her ears.

‘The Drowned Prophet will bless—’

But Robin couldn’t get the words out. Knowing she was going to vomit and not caring whether she drew curious eyes, she set off at a run towards the dormitory where she just made one of the toilets, where she threw up the small amount of ragout and polenta she’d swallowed with Jonathan Wace, then fell to her knees to dry-heave, her flesh clammy with revulsion.

74

Nine at the top means…

Perseverance brings the woman into danger.

The moon is nearly full.

The I Ching or Book of Changes

Two days passed, during which fear was with Robin constantly, to a degree she’d never felt before. There was no refuge, no place of safety: she knew an order must have gone out to keep her under close, constant watch, because one or other of the female church members was constantly at her side throughout her waking hours, even when she went to the bathroom. The only positive in her environment was that Taio, who’d taken Lin to some unknown location, still hadn’t returned to the farm.

It took more courage than ever before for Robin to leave her bed on Thursday night to write to Strike. She waited far longer than usual to set off, determined to make sure everyone was fast asleep, in no danger of dozing off herself because her adrenalin level was so high. Having slipped out of the dormitory, she sped across the field towards the woods, convinced that she’d hear a shout behind her at any moment.

When she reached the perimeter wall she found two letters in the rock. Murphy’s told her he was off to San Sebastian for two weeks, and while he’d written affectionately, she’d noted the undertone of displeasure that she wouldn’t be going with him. Strike’s note detailed the attempted suicide of Jordan Reaney.

After writing her two responses, Robin remained sitting on the cold ground, paralysed with indecision. Should she leave, now, while she had the chance? Clamber over the barbed wire and wait for whoever was going to collect her letters to pick her up? It was too late to get an ambulance for Lin, but the intensity of the surveillance she was currently under made her wonder whether she’d be able to achieve anything more if she stayed. She was losing hope that she’d ever be able to talk to Emily Pirbright again, given that both of them were constantly surrounded by other church members.

Yet there was Will, who’d shown definite signs of doubting the church during his conversation with Noli in the kitchen. Now she’d learned that this was no anomaly, that Will kept faltering at step six to pure spirit, she understood at last why a clever, educated young man with a large trust fund was being kept at Chapman Farm instead of being fast-tracked to conducting seminars and travelling the world with Jonathan Wace. If she could only engineer one last conversation with Will, it would be worth staying.

So Robin folded her letters and placed them in the plastic rock, ripped up Strike’s and Ryan’s notes and threw them into the road, spent another two minutes devouring the Double Decker the agency had left her, then set off back through the woods.

She’d only gone ten yards when she heard a car slow behind her and darted behind a tree. By the car’s interior light, she saw Barclay, and watched as he got out of his Mazda, climbed carefully over the barbed wire fence and extracted Robin’s messages from the plastic rock. Still hidden, peering through the branches, Robin considered calling out to him, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Separated from her colleague by only ten yards, she felt like a ghost who had no business conversing with the living. She watched Barclay climb back over the wall, get into the car and drive away, then turned slowly away, fighting the urge to weep.

She crossed the chilly field and finally regained her dormitory bed without detection. Partly because of the sugar in her system, but also because the panic engendered by her journey was so slow to subside, Robin remained awake for the rest of the night, and was almost relieved when the bell rang to wake everyone else up.

75

Thus the superior man controls his anger

And restrains his instincts.

The I Ching or Book of Changes

‘What d’ye think?’

Strike, who’d just finished reading Robin’s latest missive from Chapman Farm, looked up at Barclay, who’d brought the letter back from Norfolk twenty minutes previously and now stood in the doorway of the inner office, holding a mug of coffee Pat had made him.

‘It’s time for her to come out,’ said Strike. ‘We might have enough here for a police investigation, if they haven’t taken this Lin girl to hospital.’

‘Aye,’ said Barclay, ‘and that’s before ye get tae the sexual assault.’

Strike said nothing, dropping his eyes again to the last few lines of Robin’s letter.

and Wace groped me. He didn’t get far, because Mazu and Becca came in.