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got a grandmother, son?’ asked Blizzard.

‘Yes.’

‘Then think how you would feel if she was the one who was missing.’

Rowan thought for a few moments and nodded.

‘When do you want us to start?’ he asked.

‘What time are you due to go off duty?’

‘We’ve just finished.’

‘Then start tomorrow,’ said Blizzard. ‘Might I suggest you pop in on Tom Raine before you start. Go on, be on your way.’

Rowan picked up the file and the young officers scuttled gratefully from the room.

‘God help us,’ murmured Blizzard. He stood up. ‘Not that he has so far.’

He snapped out the light and left, stopping at the front office to tell them where he would be, before heading out into the night. A few minutes later, he was unlocking the padlock to a corrugated iron shed on wasteland beyond the railway lines that served the city’s central station. Blizzard hauled open the door, grimacing at the squeak and reminding himself to give the hinges a dot of oil before he left. He fumbled for a switch on the wall, cursing as he barked his knuckles, and a single lightbulb sputtered into life to reveal a tangle of scrap metal vaguely recognisable as a steam locomotive.

Blizzard could trace his interest in steam trains back to his childhood in rural Lincolnshire when he used to watch them thunder along the line at the bottom of their garden. Now, he chaired Hafton Railway Appreciation Society, a group of enthusiastic volunteers who used their spare time to restore locomotives. The shed gave him somewhere to let his mind settle and to order his thoughts. He switched on the small heater, filled the kettle and struggled into grease-stained blue overalls.

As David Colley hurled himself around the rugby pitch on the other side of the city, John Blizzard worked quietly without disruption for an hour, stopping occasionally to sip from his mug of tea. He was just about to pack up for the evening and head home when the door opened with a grating sound to reveal Arthur Ronald. Blizzard looked at his boss in surprise; he could not recall the last time the superintendent had visited the shed.

‘They said you’d be here,’ said Ronald. He picked his way through the pieces of metal. ‘It’s never a good sign. It normally means that you’re struggling.’

‘Yeah, just a bit,’ said Blizzard. ‘What brings you here anyway?’

‘The Chief’s been on again, demanding an update.’ Ronald sat down heavily on a folding chair. ‘Thought I’d check where we are.’

‘I really am not sure,’ said Blizzard. He picked up the kettle and walked over to the sink, where he filled it with water from the single tap. ‘Cuppa?’

Ronald nodded.

‘No sign of Macklin, I take it?’ asked the superintendent.

‘Nothing.’ Blizzard switched on the kettle and leaned over to listen for the familiar wheeze. ‘Derby have drawn a blank. I reckon he’s still in the city.’

‘What do you base that on?’

‘Instinct. I’ve got nothing to back it up. I just feel that he’s still here.’

‘And the vicar?’ said Ronald. ‘He still missing?’

‘Yup.’

‘Is he a suspect?’

‘He may well be.’ Blizzard held a hand against the kettle to make sure that it was getting hot again. ‘I’m just not sure for what.’

‘It wouldn’t be the first time that a clergyman has turned to murder, John. Channel 5 has been running a whole series of them. Murder in the Name of God, it’s called.’

‘Delightful.’

Neither man spoke for a few moments as Blizzard busied himself making the tea then handed a mug to Ronald.

‘The Chief is also worried about the politics behind this,’ said Ronald as he took a sip.

‘Ah, I wondered why you’d come here. What’s worrying him in particular?’

‘The politics of it. Margaret Hatton, for starters. He says that she’s stirring things up – as is this Rose-Harvey fellow. He’s been bending the ear of Rory Gill and Gill was straight on the phone to the Chief.’

‘And what did the good councillor say? As if I can’t guess.’

‘That we’re focusing too much on the church,’ said Ronald. ‘Did you know that he’s a member of the congregation?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘He started attending a few weeks ago. Anyway, Gill told the Chief that the church and the council are partners and that we should lay off unless we have good reason. He thinks we should be finding Macklin instead of focusing on Rose-Harvey and his friends.’

‘Sounds like they want to make Macklin a scapegoat,’ said Blizzard.

‘You don’t fancy him for the murder then? He’s the obvious one, isn’t he?’

‘Yes, he is, but I’m still not sure. It’s all too easy if it is him.’ Blizzard frowned. ‘If I’m honest, I’m not sure about anything, except that every road we travel leads us back to St John’s. I can’t quite put my finger on it but we’re missing something. Something not quite right about the church.’

‘Maybe there is, John, but we have to be careful. You know the Chief’s view of the police and politics.’

Blizzard looked intently at his old friend.

‘That why you’re here?’ he said. ‘To give me the politics speech again?’

Ronald looked unhappily at his friend.

‘OK, OK,’ he said. ‘Yes, it’s what the Chief has ordered me to do.’

‘But surely he does not want to prevent us from conducting a proper inquiry, does he? You’re not warning me off altogether, are you?’

‘You should know me better than that,’ said Ronald. ‘And the Chief deserves better, for that matter. If the roads all lead us to the church then so be it. I’m just letting you know where things stand.’

‘Well, I’ll steer clear of the politics if you keep Gill off our back. How’s that for a deal?’

‘I’ll do what I can,’ said Ronald. ‘Can I ask about Martha Raine as well? Uniform say that

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