A cold treachery - Charles Todd [100]
He kept walking, heading for the ruin of a hut higher up.
The roof had fallen in, snow had banked high against the walls, and there were heavy tracks all around the hut. It was here that Paul Elcott had once retreated. And here that Josh had retreated the day his mother had gone into false labor.
The search party had been thorough, poking their staffs into the drifts and trying to probe the narrow opening under a part of the collapsed roof that formed a tiny shelter. If there was anything to be found, they would have seen it. But even they, in the first aftermath of the storm, might have missed something that the rain and sun had brought to the surface like old bones.
Rutledge knelt and looked inside.
This was the likeliest place for a child to take shelter. Jarvis had been right. And although the search party hadn't found him here, small traces might have been buried deep in the snow, impossible to see in the light of a lamp or torch.
What he was about to do would be accepted as truth.
Reaching into his pocket, he took out one of the cuff links and dropped it into a crevice between stones in the corner nearest what had been the door.
Satisfied, he squatted there and looked at what he'd done. The cuff link was completely out of sight. He got to his feet and dusted off his gloves.
Paul Elcott had stepped out into the yard, shielding his eyes as he looked up the fell towards Rutledge.
Rutledge lifted a hand as if he'd just realized Elcott was there, and began to descend the slope, Hamish arguing with him every step of the way.
By the time he reached the yard, Elcott had closed the kitchen door and stored his painting gear in the barn. He stood there by his carriage as Rutledge slipped and skidded down the last hundred yards.
“What possessed you to go up there? It's been searched, that hut.”
Rutledge, breathless, shook his head. “I'm sure it was. The report said nothing was found. But the snow has melted considerably. I was luckier. I came across these.”
In the palm of his hand he held out a stub of candle and a burnt match.
“Someone was there. Either the night it happened, or afterward. I expect it was Josh. But it might have been the killer.”
Elcott stared at the candle. “You can't be sure—”
“No. Of course I can't. I didn't have any tools with me. I'll come back tomorrow and look again.”
“It doesn't make sense. I mean, if he was there—if he had a candle—why didn't he come out when the searchers were calling his name?”
“You may be right,” Rutledge said, with reluctance. “But this candle hasn't been out in the weather long. Who else has been up there, if not the boy?”
“Gerry might have been—”
“I can't see Gerald taking a candle and hunkering down in the hut. But I'll come back tomorrow and take my time.”
He cranked the motor and stepped into the driver's seat.
“Did you ever go up there as a child, and hide? Is it a likely place?”
“I—yes. I could see the yard, and come down when my father was in a better temper,” he admitted reluctantly. “But I doubt Josh ever did that.”
“I wouldn't say anything about this in Urskdale. Until I can be sure what the candle means.”
“No. Of course not. I—I'll be working out here again tomorrow. You'll let me know—”
“Yes, I'll be sure to do that.”
At the hotel, Rutledge found Mrs. Cummins in the kitchen boiling carrots for dinner.
He took out the candle stub and held it out.
“I found this above the Elcott farm—in a hut that's beyond the sheep pen. Does it look as if this candle is one that could be bought here in Urskdale?”
She studied it. “Harry has a box just like it that he bought in one of the shops. He keeps them in the barn. What's it doing up in a hut? That's an unlikely place to store candles!”
“I can't be sure what it means. I'm going back tomorrow to search again. There was no time to do more—I didn't have a spade or a torch with me.”
Mrs. Cummins said, “You ought to ask Sergeant Miller to go with you. He's a good man with a spade. You should see the garden behind