A cold treachery - Charles Todd [55]
Rutledge roused Greeley from a sound sleep, much to the annoyance of his wife. “But he's hardly closed his eyes! Can't you let him have a little peace?”
She was a tall woman, her face angular and her features well defined. Dressed in black, with a white collar at the throat, she reminded Rutledge of a strict schoolmistress.
“Then you'd better come this way,” she said with a sigh when he insisted. “I won't have him up and dressing again.” She led her unwanted guest up a flight of stairs to the third door along a carpeted passage.
“I'm sorry to intrude on your sleep,” he told the haggard man in the rumpled bed. “I need to find someone who can take me out on the fells. If I can't manage on my own, I'm capable of following a man who knows what he's doing. Give me a name, or send me someone.”
“Good God, man, you must be mad. All right then, give me an hour—”
Sooner than that, a rough-looking, bearded man appeared at the kitchen door of the hotel and asked for Rutledge.
Elizabeth Fraser said, “Hallo, Drew. What brings you out at this hour?”
“I'm to take the policeman walking.” His voice was gruff.
“Indeed?” she replied, surprised. “I think he's in his room. Come in!” She smiled and maneuvered her chair out of Drew's way. “Can I get you something?”
He stepped into the kitchen and looked around him, ill at ease. His fleece-lined leather coat was buckled around him by a stout belt, and his heavy-soled boots were crusted with snow. “I'll have some of that tea, if you don't mind!”
She was pouring his cup when Rutledge came through the door. “Ah,” Elizabeth said, looking up at him. “I expect this man is the guide you've been waiting for. Drew, Inspector Rutledge, from Scotland Yard.”
Drew nodded and drank his tea noisily. Rutledge said, “I'm used to the fells—but not in winter. I've got warm clothes with me, and boots. Gloves. A torch. A flask for tea. Is there anything else I need?”
“A better hat,” Drew answered without looking up. “Your ears will be dam—be cold.”
“You can borrow one of Harry's,” Elizabeth put in quickly. “I'll just go and fetch it!”
She wheeled herself out of the door Rutledge held open for her. Behind her, Drew was saying, “Mind, I'll know best when it's time to turn back.”
“Yes, that's fair enough.” Rutledge nodded. “I've got that map,” he said, gesturing to where it lay folded and to hand on the sideboard. “And I've learned what it can tell me. But there's more to land than flat markings on paper. I need to see the valley from a vantage point where I can understand all the difficulties faced by the search parties. And the boy.”
Drew grunted in acknowledgment. “There's one place best for that.”
Hamish commented, “The hills here breed silence into a man. It was the same in the glen. Words counted.”
Rutledge nearly answered him aloud, and caught himself in time. If he can take me where I want to go, that's all that matters.
They set out without another word. Drew walked with long, tireless strides, neither hurrying nor wasting time. The sun's rays angled over the mountains, sending stray fingers down to illuminate the far end of the lake, but it was not a strong light, this close to the solstice. It gave the dale an almost ethereal air, as if it might disappear before anyone could really grasp it. The snow, where it was undisturbed, looked as smooth as glass, and the deeper end of Urskwater was a blue-black. Here and there outcroppings had begun to poke their heads up through the crust of white.
“A sheep man, are you?” Rutledge asked, after a quarter of an hour.
“All my life.”
“Why weren't you out with the searchers?”
“I've been and come.”
They were well outside the village now, climbing the shoulder of the fell, angling a little west. Hamish, his mind on Scotland, began a long soliloquy comparing the fells with the Highlands, the difference in the colors of the soil, the shape of the rocks, the sense of isolation. It was a background accompaniment to the crunch of boots on snow and rock, and the breathing of the silent men.
After another