Free Path of Needles by Alison Littlewood Page A

hands and now her fingers tapped against it.
    Alice led the way through to the kitchen at the back of the cottage. The policewoman followed, gave her name as PC Cate Corbin and said that yes, she would like tea. Alice switched on the kettle, got mugs out of the cupboard, heard the hiss as the water began to boil. She still wanted – no, needed – to know that the news wasn’t bad, maybe wasn’t even meant for her at all, although the everyday act of making tea was comforting; surely someone with bad news to impart wouldn’t allow it to be delayed in such a fashion.
    ‘Nice view,’ a voice said at her shoulder, and Alice let out a hiss of her own. She hadn’t realised the girl had followed her, and hadn’t heard her approach over the sound of the kettle. Is that what they did – tried to unsettle people? But she hadn’t done anything wrong.
    ‘Sorry,’ the policewoman said, ‘I didn’t mean to make you jump.’
    When Alice turned, the girl tried a smile. She didn’t appear to be trying to tell Alice anything, wasn’t bursting with questions; still, her eyes were serious and there was a directness to her gaze; Alice didn’t doubt she could be pushy if she wanted to be.
    ‘Was there something you wanted?’ The words came out more bluntly than Alice had intended, and she softened it with a smile. She picked up the mugs, handed one over.
    ‘There’s nothing to be concerned about,’ said the policewoman. ‘I’m here because I think you may be able to help me with some information – in a professional capacity, that is.’
    Alice frowned. ‘I’m a university lecturer,’ she said, ‘up in Leeds. I – I get the train.’ After a pause she added, ‘I study literature.’
    ‘I know. Could we sit down, Miss Hyland? It’s a rather sensitive matter. It’s nothing you need worry about, not personally, though it is rather serious.’
    Alice gestured towards her pine table and the policewoman set down her mug, slipped into a chair and placed the folder in front of her. She drew the mug closer but she didn’t drink from it. She sat there as if she were strangely reluctant to continue. ‘I’ll be honest with you, Miss Hyland,’ she began.
    ‘Alice.’
    ‘Thank you. Call me Cate.’
    It felt odd, being on first-name terms with this stranger in uniform, but Alice nodded.
    ‘I’m here because I have an idea about a case I’m working on and I thought you might be able to clarify matters. Really, you could say I’m here on a hunch. I’m looking for information in connection with a murder investigation.’
    Alice started, but Cate held up a hand, as if to settle her. ‘I was hoping you could help me. The victim was found in a very particular – pose, let’s say. Certain items were placed around her. I’m not at liberty to tell you what all of those were, but maybe some of them might mean something to you.’
    ‘To me? Why would they?’ Alice blinked. She had seen the news about the body found in the woods – was that what the policewoman was talking about? She’d been shocked by it, and that was where, for her, it ended. She had never met the girl who’d been found; she didn’t know anything about her.
    But the policewoman was moving on, already describing the scene: a young girl, little more than a child, dumped at the edge of the woods. A mirror had been placed in her hand and her hair dyed black. She had been a beauty queen – the crown was still on her head. Her fingernails had been pulled out and a part of her – Cate didn’t elaborate – was sent back to her mother.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ said Alice, raising her hands and letting them fall again, ‘but I don’t know why you’re telling me any of this.’
    Cate stared at her a moment, as if making an assessment. ‘I didn’t altogether want to show you this, but I did get clearance, and – to be honest, you’ll probably only see what I’m getting at if you look at a picture.’ She began to open the folder she’d brought.
    Alice