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Sunbury he may have gone to stay with.’
    ‘I saw him just before the storm started. He seemed fine,’ said a lady in the front row.
    ‘I don’t think he has anyone else local,’ said another.
    ‘He was a very quiet man. I knew his mother,’ said another.
    ‘He liked walking in the woods.’ Within moments, the crowd were chattering about Father Michael with limited useful information coming forward. It took the attention off her for a little while, enough to take a sip of water and ease her dry mouth.
    ‘Well, if you have any information, please see me after the meeting. I’ll pass you back to Tom,’ she said. Letting on to the burglary would cause undue concern. People were already worried about Michael and panic would set in if they knew he’d been burgled. She’d reluctantly taken the journals to her mother’s house for safekeeping and clearly wasn’t the only one that thought they were important. Someone in this God-fearing town may have thought they were so important, they were willing to break into a church to retrieve them. She stepped down from the podium, relieved the spotlight had been turned off.
    ‘Erm, officer, if you would.’ Tom motioned for her to step back up, ‘Officer –’
    ‘Please, it’s Sarah.’ She hated being called officer and in doing so, Tom added to his pompous tone, which was starting to get under her skin a little. Having to be up there in the first place made her irritable enough; anything else would send her over the edge. She had to keep her cool.
    ‘Sarah. What state was his room in?’ asked Tom. The question irked her a little and something gave her the impression it was supposed to.
    ‘His room?’ She bought herself a little time. Had John told anyone about the search? If he’d mentioned the break-in and she didn’t, she’d be exposed as a liar right here, in front of the whole town. She felt as though she was being cross-examined by a barrister who followed the age-old rule: Don’t ask anything you don’t already know the answer to. She looked at John; his face didn’t offer any clues. ‘His room was fine. Fine, I suppose. I don’t know how tidy he tends to be, so that’s something I’ll be asking anyone who has any knowledge to tell me.’ It wasn’t the most convincing answer, but it stuck out amongst all the conflicting thoughts she was having.
    ‘Fine?’ he asked, pulling a bemused face. ‘Anything to say whether he’d just left or had gone before the storm?’
    ‘It’s difficult to say either way.’ Keep it nice and simple.
    ‘What did you find there?’ said a voice from the crowd. She looked over to see a large, red-faced man who’d definitely heard his fair share of closing-time bells. ‘Anything unusual?’ This was turning from a brief announcement to a Q and A at an ‘NCIS’ fan convention.
    ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,’ she said. Of course he hadn’t offered it, but she thought it wise to note who was asking what.
    ‘Sean. Sean Willoughby.’
    ‘Nothing I wouldn’t expect to find, Sean.’ Sean was the first person on her list to talk to once the meeting was over.
    ‘Ok, well was anything missing?’ he asked.
    ‘Or anything left behind?’ asked a lady who sat next to John.
    ‘Well, I couldn’t possibly know for sure –’
    ‘Well yes, but anything obviously taken?’ asked Sean again.
    ‘No, nothing.’ She thought less about her answers, as hesitating too much would allow them to see just how much she was panicking inside. She had to be like a swan, frantically paddling underwater, but remaining graceful on the surface. The crowd were content to nod their heads and shuffle in their seats, so she assumed she was making a reasonable impression.
    ‘What about forensics? Did you find any forensics?’ asked a woman in the front row. Sarah recognised her straight away. She spilled over the sides her chair and her walking stick laid across her lap, encroaching on the laps of those either side of her,