Tunnels 01, Tunnels

comforting smile. "You mentioned your mother was here. Can we talk to her, please?"
    "She's in here," Rebecca said, leading the way to the living room and knocking lightly on the door. "Mum," she called softly, opening the door for the two officers and then standing to one side to let them through. Will started to follow them in, but the policeman turned to him.
    "Tell you what, son, I could murder a cup of coffee."
    As the policeman shut the door behind him Will turned to Rebecca with an expectant look.
    "Oh, all right, I'll make it," she said irritably and headed for the kettle.
    Waiting in the kitchen, they could hear the low drone of adult conversation coming from behind the door, until -- several cups of coffee and what felt like an eternity later -- the policeman emerged alone. He walked in and placed his cup and saucer on the table next to them.
    "I'm just going to take a quick look around the place," he said. "For clues," he added with a wink, and had left the kitchen and gone upstairs before either of them could react. They sat there, peering up at the ceiling as they listened to his muffled footsteps moving from room to room on the floor above.
    "What does he think he's going to find?" Will said. They heard him come downstairs again and walk around the ground floor, and then he appeared back in the kitchen doorway. He fixed Will with an inquiring look.
    "There's a basement, isn't there, son?"
    Will took the policeman down into the cellar and stood at the bottom of the oak steps while the man cast his eye over the room. He seemed to be particularly interested in Dr. Burrows's exhibits.
    "Unusual things your dad has. I suppose you've got receipts for all these?" he said, picking up one of the dusty clay heads. Noticing Will's startled expression, he continued, "Only joking. I understand he works in the local museum, doesn't he?"
    Will nodded.
    "I went there once... on a school trip, I think." He spotted the dirt in the wheelbarrow. "So what's all that?"
    "I don't know. Could be from a dig that Dad's been doing. We usually do them together."
    "Dig?" he asked, and Will nodded in reply.
    "I think I'd like to take a look outside now," the policeman announced, his eyes narrowing as he studied Will intently and his demeanor taking on a sternness that Will hadn't seen before.
    In the garden, Will watched as he systematically searched the borders. Then he turned his attention to the lawn, crouching down every so often to examine the bald patches where one of their neighbor's cats was accustomed to relieving itself, killing off the grass. He spent al little time peering at the Common over the ramshackle fence at the end of the yard before coming back into the house. Will followed him in, and as soon as they entered, the officer put his hand on his shoulder.
    "Tell me, son, no one's been doing any digging out there recently, have they?" he asked in a low voice, as if there was some dark secret that Will was dying to share with him.
    Will merely shook his head, and they moved into the hall, where the policeman's eyes alighted on his gleaming shovel in the umbrella stand. Noticing this, Will tried to maneuver himself in front of it and block his view.
    "Are you sure you -- or any members of your family -- haven't been digging in the garden?" the policeman asked again, staring at Will suspiciously.
    "No, not me, not for years," Will replied. "I dug a few pits on the Common when I was younger, but Dad put a stop to that -- said someone might fall in."
    "On the Common, eh? Big holes, were they?"
    "Pretty big. Didn't find anything much there, though."
    The policeman looked at Will strangely and wrote something in his notebook. "Much like what?" he asked, frowning with incomprehension.
    "Oh, just some bottles and old junk."
    At that point, the policewoman came out of the living room and joined her colleague by the front door.
    "All right?" the policeman said to her, tucking his notebook back into his breast pocket. He gave a last penetrating look at Will.
    "I got everything down," the policewoman replied, and then turned to Will and his sister. "Look, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, but per standard procedure we'll make some inquiries about your father. If you hear anything or need to talk to us -- about anything at all -- you can contact us at this number." She handed Rebecca a printed card. "In many of these cases, the person just comes back -- they just needed to get away, have some time to think things over." She