CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO:  AFTERMATHS

“Well?”

Donald May looked up as Riggs and Ellis trudged into the reception area of Grimshaw Hall.

They were red-faced, sweat-soaked and liberally decorated with moorland dust. Georgie had a scrape on her elbow. Riggs was limping slightly.

The rest of the team—Samson, Pauline, Fizz—were clustered near the desk like parents at the school gates.

Riggs shook his head. Georgie gave a small shrug. May thought he saw a sheen in her eyes that might have been sweat, might have been frustration.

“Nothing, sir,” Riggs said. “We chased her out onto the moor. I went over Grimshaw Tor; Georgie went round. We should have boxed her in at the reservoir. But she vanished. No sign of her anywhere.&rdqu...

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