Chapter 7

Even with the rain, more visitors dropped by. Sally deflected some of them so that Ruth did not have to face them all.

The postmistress, a large-boned, rough-faced busybody with a strong West Country accent, stopped by. "Andrew tol' me the child was missin'."

She gave Ruth the creeps. Something about her wasn't right, but it occurred to Ruth that today it wouldn't be so bad if the postmistress passed the news of Annie on to everyone who dropped in to post a letter or buy stamps, as long as she didn't embellish as usual.

She told the postmistress there was no news and thanked her for dropping by.

She was back at her computer staring at the email.

"Mrs. Butler?"

She jumped to her feet and turned to see the wolf-eyed officer from yesterday enter with a woman police officer trailing behind.

Detective Chief Inspector Peter Trewe's salt and pepper hair had an untamed massiveness to it, as if it had absorbed half again its own volume with the rain. "Did you ring the station? Have you heard anything? Has she returned?"

"No." Ruth gulped back a sob. She fell to her seat.

"We didn't mean to startle you."

"Last night there was a phone call. He used Annie's mobile. He told me to tell him I loved him. Then this morning I opened my email. Look!"

DCI Trewe bent over Ruth's computer. "Is this it?"

"It's a repeat of what he said last night."

"I'll forward this to a safe computer where it can be opened and examined. We'll find out who sent it. There are ways. We can't just go marching to your ISP demanding names without justification according to the Data Protection Act. If it's important to finding your daughter, we'll do it. I'll let you know. We will triangulate the mobile call from last night."

"Another call came in on the home phone this morning. I could hear him breathing."

"How do you know it was a him?"

Ruth looked down. "An impression."

"I regret some people take advantage of this kind of situation. Do you know who would do that to you?"

"I don't."

"Will you let us know about any of these types of communications?"

"It was the second one of those."

Trewe caught her glance as he handed her another of his cards. "You've been remarkably calm through this."

"I don't know what you mean."

"I don't mean anything is wrong. Just an observation." He turned and indicated the other officer in the room. "You've met WPC Craig?"

"Yes." Ruth nodded to the woman police constable, who had her notepad at the ready.

"Mrs. Butler, we'll put a stop to this. Rest assured. Anything you consider worrisome in the way of phone messages, we'll consider harassment. Ring the number on my card the moment you receive another."

"Thank you." Her voice broke. She cleared her throat. Oh, to banish this weakling inside her. Should she tell? Yes, she must. "I've got to tell you the rest."

At that moment Sam Ketterman stepped into the room from the kitchen. Ruth sucked in what she had been about to say. It was getting to be a regular feeling, this jumpiness. Sam was not a stranger. She'd known him almost from the time they had come to Cornwall. He was a solicitor. Why had he entered through the rear door? Sally stood behind Sam, making faces at his back.

Sam glared at Trewe. "I'm sorry. Am I intruding?"

"Mrs. Butler called us, sir. And your business here?"

"Pardon me. I didn't realize ... Detective Chief Inspector, I am Ruth's solicitor. Is there any progress?"

"By progress, I assume you're asking after Annie Butler?"

"Exactly so."

Trewe turned to Ruth. "Mrs. Butler?"

"Sam, I did not ask you to come."

Sally intervened. "Sam, there's tea if you'll come be my company in the kitchen."

Sam looked from Trewe to Ruth and then shrugged. "Thank you, Sall."

Ruth stared at their departing backs. Sally was being kind under the circumstances. She hated when he called her that.

Trewe sighed and stood up. "We are working, Mrs. Butler. There are forty-eight officers from the Devon-Cornwall area helping with the search. Two special officers from the Bristol Regional Crime Office are here. We've had few leads."

They hadn't produced her daughter. Ruth nodded. She couldn't ask more of them.

"Mrs. Butler, you mentioned there was something else?"

"It isn't important." She choked against the lie. She cleared her throat and picked up the flowers with the odd note. "There's this. Do you know what this says?"

Trewe looked at the note. "Welsh. My gran would have known just what it meant. If you'd like, I'll take this with me and get someone who knows the language to look at it."

"Yes, please."

"Anything else?"

She couldn't say it, but yes, there was heaps more-tons more.

"Don't give up hope, Mrs. Butler. Let us know about any problems. Will you do that?"

"Yes," she said. In that moment, she thought Trewe actually sounded kind, despite his fierce looks. She studied his face for a moment. She had to tell him the most important thing of all-the one thing that may in fact be impeding Annie's quick return. Could she trust him? "Can I say something for your ears alone?"

He nodded for Constable Craig to step across the room.

She drew the chief inspector aside and whispered, "Ruth Butler is not my name."