“We haven’t charged anyone with Rhys’s murder yet,” Leo says, “if that’s what you were hoping.”
Glynis gives a small nod, her lips tight. “People are saying you arrested Ceri.”
“A woman is helping us with our inq—” Leo stops. What is it Ffion calls him?Mr. Corporate Speak.“She’s been released on bail,” he tells Glynis.
“I think…” Glynis looks close to tears. “I think you’ve got the wrong person. I know what Rhys did to her, but that was years ago. They were just kids.”
“Have you seen Seren?” Ffion leans across Leo.
At the sight of her, something crosses Glynis’s face, and Leo wonders if Ffion was right. Had Glynis known, deep down, what her son was like? Had she turned a blind eye to what lay beneath her son’s talents and success?
“Not me,” Glynis says. “But I was just on the phone to Llinos. She saw Seren walking toward the boathouse an hour or so ago. Said she had a bottle of vodka with her. Is everything—”
But Leo is already driving away, too fast for the snow, his tires losing traction as they turn the corner at the end of the high street.
The boathouse is in darkness except for a single light in the office, and Leo shines a flashlight around the yard, checking for movement. There are several boats on trailers, some with cabins they should check. At least Seren would be warm and dry if she’s climbed into one of them.
“Seren!” Ffion hammers on the door to the boathouse. There’s no sound from within, but when she pulls on the huge sliding door, it’s unlocked. She drags it open, and Leo brings up the lights with a flicker that feels like lightning.
“Seren?” Leo walks through the boathouse. The office is in the corner of the vast space, a light showing through the obscured glass pane in the door. Inside, Steffan’s slumped at his desk. Leo shakes his shoulder, and the man groans.
“Has Seren been here?” Ffion says. There’s no response from Steffan. Leo shakes him again.
“Gerroff!” Steffan pushes himself upright, blinking at the intruders in his office. He scowls at Leo, then slowly focuses on Ffion. He jabs a finger toward her. “Where’s my boat?”
“He’s out of it,” Leo says.
“What boat?”
“You took my boat!” Steffan gets unsteadily to his feet, then frowns again. “No, not my boat. Fixing a boat. You stole it!” The words slide into each other, making no sense, except Steffan seems quite certain Ffion has—
Leo looks at Ffion as realization dawns on them simultaneously.
“Steffan.” Ffion speaks slowly. “Did Seren take a boat out?”
The boatman peers at her, then nods gracelessly. “Not you. The other one.”
Leo looks out toward the lake. The blizzard’s too dense to see the water, but the sound of the waves makes him shiver. “She wouldn’t have tried to go out in this, would she?”
Ffion’s mouth is set tight. “She’ll be okay.”
Leo isn’t sure who she’s trying to convince.
“She’s been sailing since she was six. She knows the lake like the back of her hand, even in bad weather. She’ll have gotten off the water when she realized how bad it was getting.”
Steffan bangs a hand down on the desk. He’s swaying, leaning on the desk and waving his free arm around as though conducting the words he’s now trying to force from his mouth. “Angharad,” he manages. “Angharad’s boat.”
“That’s okay,” Ffion says. “She knows her way around a lugger.”
“No!” Steffan shouts. He bangs the desk again. “Not fixed yet.”
The color drains from Ffion’s face.
“Boat broken.” Steffan sways. “No time to fix it. Not been well.” He slumps back into his chair and shrugs. “S’got a hole in the hull.”
Forty-Seven
December 27