Turn to Dust E-Book

Rachel Amphlett

• Herausgeber: Saxon Publishing
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

When the body of a naked man is found in the middle of a barren field, a rural community is left in shock – and fear.

Discovering that someone is offering money in return for information about the dead man and anyone connected to him, Detective Kay Hunter realises there is a dark side to the victim’s past.

When a key witness disappears and a web of deceit and lies threatens to derail the investigation, she fears the worst.

Can Kay and her team of detectives find out who is behind the man’s murder before another victim is targeted?

Turn to Dust is the ninth book in the Detective Kay Hunter series by USA Today bestselling author Rachel Amphlett, and perfect for readers who love fast-paced murder mysteries.

Praise for Turn to Dust: “Deliciously twisted!” Goodreads

Kept me on my toes from beginning to end in a series which goes from strength to strength" Goodreads

Leseprobe

TURN TO DUST

A DETECTIVE KAY HUNTER CRIME THRILLER

RACHEL AMPHLETT

Copyright © 2020 by Rachel Amphlett

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. While the locations in this book are a mixture of real and imagined, the characters are totally fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is entirely coincidental.

CONTENTS

Reading Order & Checklist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

About the Author

Missed a book? Download the FREE Official Reading Order and Checklist to Rachel Amphlett’s books here

Also available in audiobook:

CHAPTERONE

The crows should have alerted him.

Ducking and wheeling across a bleak late spring sky, the birds cawed and cackled as they swooped upon the muddy undulating landscape before rising to the air once more.

They seemed distracted, hesitant to leave the field in pursuit of the tractor that rumbled over the adjacent land, dragging a seed drill in its wake. Back and forth, back and forth, following the furrows left behind from the plough only weeks before.

A cold wind whipped across the field, shaking the hedgerows and threatening to tear the ripening buds from a cluster of hazel shrubs that hunkered under a canopy of birch. A second blast of air shoved against the metal five-bar gate, rattling the chain looped between the frame and a wooden post.

Luke Martin blew into his hands and wished he’d worn an extra pair of socks.

Instead, the damp mud oozed around his calf-length rubber boots and chilled his toes, and every breath he took was expelled in a cloud of condensation.

His fingers fared little better.

The thermal-lined gloves he’d purchased had promised on the label to protect his extremities from temperatures down to five below zero Centigrade, but he reckoned now that the claim was overambitious.

He became aware of a vehicle approaching, the purr of the engine running under the crackle and snap of branches and woodland detritus disappearing under its wheels.

Luke turned away from the field to see a battered four-by-four round the corner in the single track.

Its roof caught on low-hanging tendrils of ash and oak while the vehicle rocked from side to side, the suspension groaning under duress.

Sunlight reflected off its dirt-streaked windscreen, obliterating the driver’s features, but not the way his hands gripped the steering wheel.

Gesturing to a grass-covered verge to the right of the gate, Luke walked around to the side of his own car as the four-by-four creaked to a standstill moments before the ratchet of the handbrake reached him, almost as an afterthought.

The driver swung his door open and swore as his boots met the soggy earth.

Tugging his woollen hat over his ears to protect his balding skull, Luke moved around to the front of the four-by-four and stuck out his hand.

‘Maybe Sonia was right,’ he said. ‘Maybe we should have taken up golf instead. That’s what most blokes our age do.’

‘It’d still be bloody freezing.’ Tom Coker took the outstretched hand in a tight grip, then glared at the mud smeared along the side of the vehicle. He jerked his chin at Luke’s car. ‘How long have you been here?’

‘About fifteen minutes. Traffic was lighter than I thought.’

‘Had a look yet?’

‘It doesn’t look too boggy. Hard going, but not waterlogged like I thought it’d be.’

‘That’s something, at least. Let’s get a move on. The longer we stand around here talking, the colder we’re going to get.’

Luke wandered back to his car, popped open the boot lid, and eyed the equipment laid out on a tarpaulin to protect the carpeted lining.

He lifted out the shovel first – an ancient tool passed down to his father by his grandfather, and now his. Since moving to the smaller house in Seal six months ago, he was using it for his hobby rather than tending a vegetable patch any more, and he remembered why when his back twinged as he straightened.

‘Come on, old man,’ said Coker. ‘Dennis said he wants to prep this field tomorrow, so we need to get a move on.’

Luke glanced over his shoulder. ‘Any problem with the contract?’

‘None at all – if we find anything, he takes a thirty per cent cut and the rest is ours.’

‘Sweet.’ He tugged the metal detector out from its swaddling of blankets, and shut the car boot. ‘Is this the only field we can use?’

‘For now. We’ll get another go at it towards the end of September after the harvest, and he said there might be another field nearer to the house on the other side of the woods we can take a look at as well.’

‘Let’s go, then.’

Luke fumbled the chain as he looped it away from the gate, his numb fingers clumsy while his thoughts turned to the flask of hot coffee Sonia had packed alongside two tuna salad sandwiches she’d insisted he take with him. The flask and food remained in the car, and would do so until mid-morning.

Losing track of time was one of the reasons he enjoyed metal detecting.

‘Have there been any finds near here?’ he said as he fastened the gate back in place and stumbled across the furrows alongside Coker.

‘Not on Dennis’s land, but then I don’t think he’s ever had anyone take a look. There were a couple of thirteenth-century brooches found a few miles away three years ago. And lots of musket balls.’

Luke groaned. ‘Always the bloody musket balls.’

‘I remember when you used to get excited about those.’

‘That was before I hit double figures. Honestly, if Charles I’s lot wasted that much ammunition during the Civil War, it’s no wonder they lost to Cromwell’s army. They obviously couldn’t shoot straight for shit.’

His friend snorted, then stopped and surveyed the landscape before them. ‘It’d be so quiet out here, if it wasn’t for those bloody birds. Dennis reckons he can’t even hear the A20 unless the wind’s blowing in this direction.’

Luke squinted against the cold chill that snapped at his coat collar, then inhaled the rich earthy air. ‘Beats being at work, too.’

‘You busy at the moment?’

He wrinkled his nose. ‘In between contracts. I spent yesterday sending out quotes, and a couple of those should come through in the next week or two. You?’

‘Skiving. I was meant to be rendering a house over at Sevenoaks this morning, but I sent two of the lads instead. Okay, shall we split up?’

Luke turned his attention to the rolling landscape, the noise from the tractor carrying over the hedgerow.

And still, those bloody crows. Caw, caw, caw.

‘I think I’m going to head down there. Looks as if it has a slight rise, then an indentation marked on the Ordnance Survey map I took a look at before you turned up. It might yield something. What about you?’

Coker pointed to the hedgerow separating the barren field with the one where the farmer worked. ‘I’ll start there. There’s a ditch system that runs parallel to the boundary. It could be an old trackway or something, so it’s worth checking out.’

Luke bumped his fist against his friend’s outstretched hand. ‘Be lucky. Break in a couple of hours?’

‘Sounds good.’

Pulling the headphones up over his head and adjusting the pads over his ears, he switched on the machine and listened to its beeps and whirrs as it nestled into the setting he programmed. Satisfied he was ready, he began to march towards his intended search area, sweeping the metal detector in front of his feet as he walked.

It’d be sod’s law if he missed a find in his hurry to reach the contoured land he had set his mind on.

The world contracted around him as he worked, the movement of the metal detector right to left and back almost trance-inducing. Any worries about work deserted him while he focused on what he was hearing.

He moved without purpose, simply staring at the tufts of long grass that were poking through the earth in a last-ditch attempt to claim it before barley seedlings took over for the summer months.

After a few minutes, he raised his gaze to his left to see Coker with his back to him, intent on his own progress. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but a competitiveness rose in Luke’s chest as he turned back to his work.

He wanted to be the one who found it.

The find.

Sonia joked that it was his vain hope of paying off a chunk of the mortgage before their son left home. Of course, his chances were slim – but a man could dream, couldn’t he?

The birds grew louder as he approached the rise in the field.

He could hear them over the beeps and squeaks in his headphones.

Luke scowled at the top of the incline, and then stopped.

The field rolled down towards a boundary that Luke knew bordered a stream – it was another of his and Coker’s targets for the day’s exploring in the hope they’d find traces of a Civil War encampment that was rumoured to have been in the area.

The crows had clustered together – a murder, he recalled – halfway between his position and the boundary. They bickered and called to each other as two or three birds at a time rose into the air, then dived back and noisily shoved their way back into the centre of the flock.

‘What the––’

He pushed his headphones off his head, looping them over the back of his neck, and frowned.

He couldn’t see what was causing so much interest for the crows because whatever it was lay in a smaller indentation in the field.

Dead fox?

Badger?

Intrigued, Luke wandered over to where the birds gathered, ignoring their indignant squawks as he drew closer, sending them into the air once more.

The crows landed a few paces away, dark beady eyes watching him, daring him.

A pale-pink form lay stretched out between the furrows caused by the tractor’s wheel ruts, muddy tyre tracks creating a zig-zag pattern that reflected his unsteady progress.

Luke frowned as the form became a shape, and then the shape became the outline of a man.

A naked man.

‘Are you all right, mate?’ He kept his voice jovial, despite the spike in his heart rate.

What was he? Drunk?

He’d have to be, out here exposed to the elements, except––

Luke stopped, then swallowed.

Throat dry, a bitter acidic taste on the back of his tongue, the reality caught up with his brain.

The man wasn’t drunk.

His whole body lay contorted within the brown soil, his arms at unnatural angles. His legs – Jesus, what had happened to his legs? – were disproportionate in size to his torso, and mud splashed over his skin as if he’d tripped over without trying to break his fall.

And his face––

Luke turned away, stomach churning, and saw then what the crows had been doing.

The man’s eyes were staring at him from another furrow, accusing, bloodied and torn.

And at his feet, all around Luke’s frozen toes encased in his useless thermal socks and rubber boots, were teeth.

Lots and lots of teeth.

CHAPTERTWO

A bleak sky laden with rain enshrouded the splashes of light that flashed through the thick canopy of trees above the potholed woodland track.

Detective Inspector Kay Hunter held on to the strap above the passenger window of the mud-splattered pool car, the springs in the worn seat squeaking with every bump as the vehicle rocked from side to side.

Beside her, Detective Sergeant Ian Barnes clenched his jaw and cursed under his breath when a branch twisted and smacked against the windscreen, his hands gripping the steering wheel.

‘Should’ve nicked one of the Land Rovers from Traffic,’ he said.

She held her breath as the car went through a deep puddle, and wondered whether she should raise her feet off the floor in case water began to pool under the door seal.

Barnes accelerated, the mud relinquishing the car with a thick suck of reluctance, and then the trees thinned out, exposing an area of broken ground.

A line of cars were parked haphazardly alongside a bramble hedgerow bisected by a metal five-bar gate, and Kay spotted two patrol cars emblazoned with the Kent Police logo beside a dark-coloured van.

She opened the car door, swung her legs out and reached for a pair of wellington boots she’d thrown behind the passenger seat when Barnes had collected her from home half an hour ago.

Barnes was doing the same, replacing his leather lace-up shoes with a battered pair of boots. He turned to her once done.

‘Ready?’

‘As I ever will be.’

The wind caught her hair as she rose from her seat and slammed the car door. Peering over the roof, she spotted two white-suited figures moving from the van to the gate, one carrying a silver-coloured metal suitcase.

Beside one of the patrol cars, three men hovered as a police constable spoke with them.

Barnes joined her. ‘Witnesses. Hughes said two of them were metal detecting – one of them found the body. The other bloke must be the farmer who owns the land.’

‘Let’s have a quick chat with them first, and then go and see what Harriet’s lot are doing. Is Lucas here yet?’

‘His car is over there – behind the tractor.’

‘Okay. We’ll catch him in a moment. Who was first on scene?’

‘Ben Allen, from Tonbridge. He was on a routine patrol when the call came through from the farmer, and nearest to the scene.’

On cue, Ben emerged from the driver’s seat of the second vehicle, murmuring an update into the radio clipped to his vest. He nodded when he saw Kay and Barnes heading towards him, and ended the call.

‘Morning, guv.’

‘Morning, Ben. Everything under control?’

‘It’s a quiet one – no-one around here, apart from these three.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder to where his colleague had corralled the witnesses. ‘Lucas got here fifteen minutes ago, and already confirmed life extinct. Not that there was much doubt of that.’

‘We heard it’s the body of a man,’ said Kay. ‘Unknown to the farmer, is he?’

‘Not much of a body left, to be honest, guv. I’ve never seen anything like it.’ Ben wrinkled his nose.

‘What do you mean?’

‘He’s all deformed. And naked.’ The police constable shook his head. ‘It’s a strange one.’

‘Can you introduce us?’

‘Of course.’

Kay followed him across the slippery mud to where the three men huddled at the side of the patrol car, almost as if they were trying to put as much distance as possible between them and what lay in the field.

Introductions made, the two uniformed officers excused themselves and wandered over to the gate.

Kay turned her attention to the farmer. ‘Mr Maitland, I apologise – you may have answered similar questions from my colleagues, but we have to learn as much as possible about what’s happened here. How long have you farmed this land?’

Maitland took a shaking drag from the cigarette held between his finger and thumb, and then squinted at her. ‘Me personally, about thirty years. It’s been in the family for a couple of hundred.’

‘What do you farm?’

‘Crops, mainly. Barley, wheat. The wife’s got me trying lavender this year for the first time. Not sure how that’ll work out.’

‘When was the last time you’d been in that field, prior to this morning?’ said Barnes.

‘Last week. Tuesday. I was turning over the soil ready for the seed drill. It was due to be planted tomorrow.’

The farmer broke off, his face glum as he stared at the makeshift cordon of blue and white police tape.

Kay turned to the two men beside him. ‘Which one of you found the body?’

‘That was me,’ said Luke.

‘Are you all right?’

The man shrugged. ‘Do you know who he is?’

‘Not yet. Did you recognise him?’

‘No. I’ve never seen him before. Well, as far as I could tell. His face was all smashed in, and––’

He stopped, covering his mouth with his hand.

Kay reached out for his arm. ‘Take your time. It’s okay. I know this is hard.’

‘The crows had had a go at him, I think. I saw them when I first got here at half eight. I wondered why they weren’t following the seed drill in the other field like they usually would.’

‘Did you touch anything?’

‘God, no. I yelled across the field to Tom, told him to stay back and that there was a dead body, and we got out of there. We put the metal detectors and stuff in the cars, and then went over to tell Dennis. We called triple nine after that.’

‘Dennis, did you enter the field with the body in?’ said Kay.

‘No. Figured you lot wouldn’t thank me for that.’

‘Good. All right, we’ve got your statements so you’re good to go. Luke – if you need to, speak to your GP about what you’ve seen, okay? Don’t bottle it up.’

He nodded, and then sloped back to his car alongside Tom and the farmer, all three men murmuring under their breath.

‘Want to take a look now?’ said Barnes.

‘Yes, come on.’

They wandered over to the gate, and Kay greeted the police officer who handed a clipboard to them.

‘Thanks.’ She scrawled her signature across the crime scene entry record.

Barnes lifted up the tape and she ducked underneath, her gaze already taking in the second cordon that had been erected close to where the man’s body had been found.

A group of white-suited CSI technicians crouched in a broken semicircle, each of them working methodically to record any evidence that would help to work out why the man had been killed and how he had died.

The Home Office pathologist, Lucas Anderson, stood outside the cordon, his head bowed as he watched.

‘Lucas,’ said Barnes.

‘Morning,’ he said, the paper suit crinkling as he held out his hand. ‘Death has been declared. I’ll complete the paperwork when I get back to my car so they can move him once Harriet’s lot have finished, but it’s unusual.’

‘Cause of death?’ said Kay.

Lucas pursed his lips. ‘You know I don’t like to posit assumptions, Hunter.’

‘Come on, just your initial thoughts. Please.’

At that moment, one of the CSIs stood and moved to the side, and Kay got a clear view of the dead man.

‘Jesus Christ.’

‘Different, isn’t it?

‘What happened to him?’

‘Good question,’ said Lucas. ‘Look, I won’t give my official opinion on cause of death until I’ve completed the post mortem––’

‘But you do have an opinion,’ said Barnes. ‘What is it?’

‘The only time I’ve seen vaguely similar injuries like those to his legs is from suicides. Specifically, people who have jumped from buildings.’

Barnes squinted at him. ‘He’s in the middle of a field, Lucas.’

‘I know. I said it was unusual, didn’t I?’

CHAPTERTHREE

A cacophony of activity filled the incident room as detectives, uniformed police officers and administrative staff jostled for space and called out instructions and good-natured insults to each other.

Kay stood in front of a freshly wiped whiteboard at the far end of the room and stared at the photographs Detective Constable Gavin Piper had pinned to the board moments after Barnes had uploaded the files from his phone upon returning to the town centre station.

Outside, the jangle of mid-morning traffic filtered through the windows, the sounds fading in and out of Kay’s consciousness as her mind worked.

She nibbled at a ragged thumbnail, and then uncapped a pen and scrawled her initial thoughts onto the board.

‘Here you go, guv. Soup. Thought it’d help you defrost.’ Gavin grinned as he held out the mug to her, and then jerked his chin at the photographs. ‘Do you think he died by accident, and someone moved him there?’

‘I honestly don’t know at the moment, Gav.’ She blew across the hot surface, and took a sip. ‘Who made this?’

‘I did. My sister and her boyfriend bought me a soup-maker for my birthday. First time I’ve tried it out. That one’s spicy parsnip. Is it all right?’

‘Yeah, it’s good, thanks.’

‘I hope one of those has my name on it, Piper,’ said Barnes as he joined them, and then smiled as Gavin handed him a mug from the tray. ‘Champion.’

‘Round up everyone else, Gav – let’s get this briefing underway, and then we can get back to work.’

Kay waited while the burgeoning team of police officers joined their admin colleagues and wheeled chairs to the front of the room. Once they were ready, she provided a brief overview about the investigation and who the key points of contact would be.

As Senior Investigating Officer, she would still be responsible for reporting progress to Detective Chief Inspector Devon Sharp, but at least his role meant she wouldn’t have to spend too much time at Headquarters trying to argue her case for more personnel to be assigned to her investigation.

Introduction complete, she tapped her finger on the nearest photograph. ‘We’ve got the first of these printed off, Ian. Fingerprints have been taken but while we’re waiting for those results, take a look at this. There’s a small tattoo on his bicep here. It’s old, but can you make out the letters underneath it?’

‘Hang on.’ Barnes put his soup mug on the desk next to the whiteboard, then fished his reading glasses from his inside jacket pocket before staring at the image. ‘Looks military, doesn’t it? The writing’s all faded though – I can’t make it out.’

‘Bet it says “Mum”,’ said Gavin.

‘Very funny.’ Kay peered at the photograph. ‘Isn’t there someone over at Headquarters who knows this sort of stuff?’

‘I’ll give Joanne Fletcher a call,’ said Barnes. ‘There might be someone within the media relations team who can assist. Sharp will probably have some ideas too, given his time in the military police.’

‘I’ll catch up with him when he gets here. Send over the photo to Joanne as well though, on the proviso the media team don’t share it with the press. The last thing we need is for that to be broadcast before we’ve got some answers.’

DC Carys Miles wandered over, notebook in hand. ‘Simon Winter just called from DarentValley Hospital – Lucas is going to do the post mortem tomorrow morning, but he says the teeth have been sent over to a specialist orthodontist for examination.’ She frowned. ‘Were his teeth not in his mouth?’

‘No,’ said Barnes. ‘Most of them were all over the ground next to him. Along with his eyes.’

‘Ew.’ Carys wrinkled her nose. ‘Baseball bat to the face, was it?’

‘We don’t know,’ said Kay. ‘Lucas had a few thoughts, but he won’t commit to an opinion until the PM has been done. In the meantime, can you get onto Rural Crimes and see if they’ve had any problems in the area lately?’

‘Will do, guv,’ said Carys. ‘What about the farmer, Dennis Maitland – did he see anything?’

‘No, and I don’t think he’s going to be much help. I had a look online and those two fields are on the outer boundary of his land. He says he ploughed the field last week, and hasn’t been back since. I suppose until it’s all planted up, he doesn’t need to. There’s nothing there to steal, is there, Ian?’

The detective sergeant shook his head. ‘I guess that’s why he was happy for the two blokes to use their metal detectors – it’s not as if they could cause any damage at the moment.’

‘Why strip him naked?’ said Kay, flipping the pen between her fingers. ‘Whoever did this could’ve simply taken any identification off of him.’

‘He could’ve been wearing a uniform, ma’am.’ Probationary Detective Constable Laura Hanway’s voice carried over the heads of her colleagues. ‘Might have been military, or perhaps a private security guard for something. Especially given the tattoo, perhaps.’

Kay wrote her suggestion on the board. ‘Good start. Anyone else?’

‘Building on from that, perhaps there was something else about the clothing,’ said Sergeant Harry Davis. ‘If it wasn’t a uniform, they might have had some sort of distinctive logos, or labels that could tie him to a certain place or person.’

‘Yes, another good point,’ said Kay. ‘There were the remnants of a plastic zip tie around one of his ankles, so whoever did this restrained him before he was killed.’

She ran her eyes over the man’s prone body in the second of the photographs. ‘Okay, what about the location? Why there? Harriet’s team have taken casts of footprints, but so far they’ve only matched the boots our witness, Luke Martin, was wearing. They’ve taken other prints into evidence, but those might take some time to work through – the farmer told uniform there’s a footpath running alongside the left-hand boundary to that field.’

‘Depends how long he was out there before being discovered, I suppose,’ said Carys. ‘It rained on Friday night. Maitland reckons he ploughed that field last Tuesday so if our man’s body was dumped between then and when it rained, any footprints belonging to a suspect or suspects might have been washed away.’

Kay turned away from her team and ran her eyes over the notes she’d added to the board.

No evidence, no identity, and no witnesses to the crime.

How the hell were they going to solve this one?

‘First steps,’ she said, facing her team once more. ‘House-to-house enquiries within a one-mile radius of the farm, and I want CCTV and Automatic Number Plate Recognition data from all roads passing within a mile of this land as well. Carys – can you get onto someone at Headquarters and have a sketch of our victim’s face composed from these photographs so that we’ve got something appropriate to show homeowners? I’m not letting anyone see these images – they’ll have nightmares for months.’

‘Will do, guv.’

‘All right, everyone. Dismissed. Let’s get a move on with this.’

CHAPTERFOUR

Gavin flicked up the collar of his wool coat and pulled the knitted beanie hat down over his ears before shoving his hands in his pockets.

Despite the mid-morning air temperature being reported as almost into double figures on his car dashboard, an aching chill clung to the damp air in the tree-lined lane, and weak sunlight cast a yellow-grey hue to the sky, sparkling in the puddles that lined mud-streaked grass verges.

Up ahead, two patrol cars were parked in a lay-by, the occupants already door-knocking at a cluster of properties huddled at the side of the lane that appeared to be old farmworkers’ cottages.

He peered over the roof of the car as Laura emerged from the passenger seat, swearing through gritted teeth as she zipped up her coat.

‘Bloody hell, Gavin. What happened to the early spring we were meant to be having? It’s freezing out here.’

He grinned, then gestured up the road towards the nearest cottage. ‘Shall we make a start? Think yourself lucky you’re not in uniform anymore.’

The probationary detective constable grinned. ‘Thank God. February nearly broke me – that last shift scuffing around the town centre in three inches of snow at two in the morning dodging puddles of vomit…’

She shook her head, a sense of wonder in her voice.

Gavin locked the car, checked over his shoulder for traffic, and then led the way towards the houses.

‘How are you settling in?’

‘Really well, thanks. I think it helps that everyone is going out of their way to make sure I don’t feel out of my depth.’

‘It probably helps that you’re a known quantity after helping out with that kidnapping investigation last year. When is your next exam?’

Laura kicked at a pebble in the road, sending it flying over to the other side where it bounced and skidded into a deep pothole with an audible splash.

‘The week after next. I’m trying to keep ahead on the revision work, but I don’t know how I’m going to do that now. I’d imagine we’re going to be working some long hours until we solve this one, aren’t we?’

‘I expect so. I had the same problem a few years ago – we had a couple of big cases one after the other while I was studying.’

‘How did you manage? I’m useless at getting up early at the best of times, and by the time I get home the last thing I want to do is sit and study – all I want to do is veg out.’

‘The only way I could do it was to put in a couple of hours when I finished my shift and study at my desk, or ask Hughes to book a spare interview room for me if I didn’t want to get interrupted. I found that if I did my revision at work, rather than try to do it when I got home, it became a part of my work routine.’ Gavin shrugged. ‘It seemed to work, anyway. It might be worth giving it a shot.’

Laura smiled. ‘I will, thanks. These houses – they back onto the woods near where the body was found, right?’

‘Yes.’ Gavin pulled out an Ordnance Survey map from his pocket, the edges already creased from where he’d folded it inside out. He held it out and pointed to the countryside depicted below the A20. ‘You’ve got Sevenoaks a few miles to the north here, and we’re here on this C-road. These are the farm cottages marked here. The field where the body was found is about here, and these are the woods that back onto the garden of the first property.’

‘Okay, got it.’ Laura shielded her eyes with her hand as they approached the house. ‘Rented, or owned?’

‘This one and the one next to it are owner-occupied,’ said Gavin, refolding the map and tucking it into his jacket. ‘The next-door neighbour owns and rents out the two properties on the end as well, so we’ll leave uniform to the rentals and do these two ourselves. That way, we can crack on and get to the next hamlet. Kay’s got five other patrols working the other side of Maitland’s farm as well. With any luck, we’ll have all of the initial statements done by the end of tomorrow.’

Laura shivered as a fresh gust of wind shook the hedgerow to their left, pushing a loose tendril of hair from her face. ‘How come we pulled the short straw being out here while Barnes and Carys get to stay in the warmth, then? Who did you annoy to deserve this?’

Gavin grinned. ‘I’m still classed as the new kid when it suits them, and you’ve only just joined. Hence, we get the cold weather work.’

‘Let’s get on with it then, shall we?’

He pushed against a moss-covered wooden gate into a shallow front garden, stepped aside to let Laura pass, and then wiped his hands together to lose the remnants of lichen that clung to his skin before rapping his knuckles against the front door.

Taking a step back and lifting his gaze, he noticed a handful of missing slate tiles from the gabled roof and paint peeling from the four windowsills that faced the lane.

If it wasn’t for the state-of-the-art satellite dish that protruded from the brickwork next to one of the two upstairs windows, he would’ve sworn that the surrounding woodland was trying to reclaim the property from its owner one season at a time.

The door opened on squeaking hinges after a few moments and a man peered out, his wispy grey hair sticking out in tufts either side of his ears.

‘Yes? Who are you? If you’re selling something, you can go back and read the sign on the gate.’

Gavin held up his warrant card and introduced Laura. ‘And what’s your name please, sir?’

The man took the warrant card from him, and inspected it before handing it back. ‘Humphrey Godmanstone.’

‘How long have you lived here, Mr Godmanstone?’

‘Thirty years in April. Inherited the place from my parents.’

‘Does anyone else live here?’

‘No. Did away with the wife a decade ago.’ He smiled, exposing crooked teeth. ‘Don’t worry. I didn’t kill the old tart. She buggered off. Took the two kids as well. Northampton, I think. That’s where her sister lived, anyway. Good bloody riddance.’

Gavin cleared his throat, knowing that Laura would be watching his every move in an attempt to learn from him, and wishing Carys was beside him instead.

He tried to ignore the heat rising from his neck to his jawline. ‘We wondered if we might ask a few questions about an incident we’re investigating in the area.’

‘Such as?’

‘Could we come in?’

‘No.’

Gavin forced a smile. ‘Not to worry. We’re investigating the death of a man whose body was found on the outer boundary of Maitland’s farm.’

‘Is that so?’ Godmanstone’s hand dropped from the door, and he leaned against the frame, his arms crossed. ‘What’s that got to do with me?’

‘I understand the woodland at the back of your property joins onto that land? We’re conducting house-to-house enquiries in the area to try to ascertain whether anyone has noticed any suspicious activity in the past week, or whether you’ve heard anything.’

‘Like what?’

‘Strangers to the area, perhaps hanging around in the lane. Any vehicles that have seemed out of place, or anything of yours – garden tools and the like – that might’ve gone missing in recent weeks.’

‘Haven’t spotted anything. And if anyone tried to steal anything from the garden shed, they’d have to get past the geese first.’

‘Geese?’ said Laura.

‘Yes, young lady. Geese. Better than guard dogs. Cheaper – and if you tire of them, at least you can eat them.’

Gavin gritted his teeth, then ploughed on. ‘Have you heard anything strange at night, anything that seems out of place here?’

‘No. Once the light’s out, I’m asleep. I don’t wake up until the radio comes on at seven o’clock for the news. Mind you, these days I don’t know why I bother – only puts me in a bad mood before I’ve even started the bloody day.’

‘All right, Mr Godmanstone.’ Gavin snapped shut his notebook and forced a smile as he held out a business card. ‘Thanks for your time. If you could––’

The door slammed shut.

Gavin sighed, and pushed the card through the letterbox, then turned to Laura.

The detective constable covered her mouth with her hand, but couldn’t hide the creases at the corner of her eyes.

‘Not a word, Hanway,’ he said over his shoulder as he pushed through the garden gate. ‘Not a bloody word.’

A woman stood on the doorstep of the house next door, grinning as they rounded the corner of the low privet hedge that separated her home from Godmanstone’s property.

‘He’s a delight, isn’t he?’ she said without rancour. ‘I don’t know why he keeps the geese – he’s enough to scare anyone.’

‘It takes all sorts, Ms––’

‘Mrs.’ She held out her hand. ‘Beverley Winton.’

Gavin made the introductions, noticing the splodges of white paint that covered the woman’s fingers, and then jerked his chin towards the properties to their right. ‘And you own these as well, I understand?’

‘That’s right. We’re doing up this one at the moment, and then that’ll be available as well. Did you want to come in?’

‘If we could, thanks.’

‘Sorry about the mess. Don’t trip over the dust sheets – I’ve been painting the stair balustrades this morning. I don’t know how paint manufacturers get away with putting “only one coat” on the tin. That’s the third lot on there, and I’m still not happy with it.’

She opened a door into a cluttered living room. Curtains billowed at open windows, and Gavin ran his gaze over the packing cases stacked against one wall.

‘We just have a few questions,’ he said. ‘We’re investigating the death of a man who was found in one of the outer fields to Maitland’s farm this morning. We wondered if you’d noticed any suspicious activities in the area over the past week?’

The woman paled. ‘A dead man? No – I haven’t noticed anyone new around here. The lane is pretty quiet once anyone living along here has gone to work. It’s the same in the evening. Do you think we’re in danger?’

‘We’re inclined to believe this is an isolated incident, Mrs Winton,’ said Laura. ‘Have you noticed anything that might be considered unusual for this time of year? Or any thefts from your garden shed, for example?’

‘My husband, Peter, hasn’t mentioned anything. He keeps the shed locked anyway, just through habit after we lived in town for so many years. We haven’t got the same trusting nature that our tenants do.’

‘Or geese,’ said Gavin.

‘No, thank goodness.’ Winton managed a laugh, then her eyes grew serious once more. ‘I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. I can ask Peter about it when he gets home, if you like?’

‘That would be much appreciated, Mrs Winton,’ said Gavin, and handed her a business card. ‘Even if you think it might not be significant, it’s best to let us know.’

CHAPTERFIVE

Kay looked up from her computer screen as the door to the incident room opened and Detective Chief Inspector Devon Sharp marched across the room, his expression one of consternation.

Several inches taller than Kay, the ex-military policeman kept his grey-flecked brown hair closely cropped and moved with the bearing of one used to a parade ground.

He loosened his tie as he stalked towards his office behind her desk, his attention taken by his mobile phone screen, his brow puckered.

Kay bit her lip as he walked past her, his head still bowed, then gathered up the copies of the photographs she’d collated. Pushing back her chair, she wandered over to the open door of his office, and knocked.

‘Guv? I wondered if you had a minute?’

He glanced up from his phone, momentarily surprised, then blinked. ‘Sorry, Kay – miles away there. Come on in.’

‘Everything all right?’ she said, closing the door behind her and taking the more comfortable of the visitor chairs opposite his desk. She eyed the worn threads on the armrest, and wondered if Headquarters were ever going to provide the DCI with some new furniture.

Probably not.

‘I’ve just spent three hours this morning arguing for an increase to our budget for next year.’

‘Oh. I presume it didn’t go well?’

‘I’d have rather had a root canal.’ His mouth twisted into a sardonic smile as he tossed his mobile onto his desk and sank into his seat. ‘I hear you had a body in a field this morning, over near Sevenoaks?’

‘Actually, I was hoping you could help me.’ Kay provided him with an overview of the morning’s discovery, and then slid the photographs across the desk. ‘Barnes took these while we were chatting with Lucas and Harriet. We wondered if they might have some sort of military significance.’

Sharp reached out for the A4-sized images, and leaned back in his chair as he sifted through them. He paused for several moments on each one, turning the photograph at different angles, and then lowered them to his desk and frowned.

‘It reminds me of the sort of tattoos some soldiers would get after completing a tour of duty,’ he said. ‘Sort of a reminder, as a way to prove they’d survived intact. What’s the age of the victim?’

‘I gave Lucas a call an hour ago to see what he thought, now that he has the body at the morgue. He said he won’t be able to narrow it down properly until after the post mortem tomorrow morning, but estimates the man’s age to be between early forties and late fifties.’

Sharp ran his hand over his chin, and picked up another photograph. ‘That age group would place our victim anywhere from the Falklands conflict if he’s in his late fifties, right the way through to the Afghanistan campaigns of recent years.’

‘That’s a lot of people, guv.’

‘I know. I’m not familiar with this particular artwork, though. There’s nothing on this that says to me it’s one particular regiment or another.’

‘What about the writing underneath? Does that ring any bells?’

‘Looks like some sort of an abbreviated code. If he was Special Forces or something like that, it might relate to his unit. You know they work in four-man teams?’

‘Yes. So, you’re saying it might be limited to a small group, rather than have a wider regimental bearing?’

‘Exactly. And you say there was nothing else to identify him?’

‘No, not by way of clothing or piercings anyway. Lucas has sent off the loose teeth that were all over the ground to a specialist orthodontist. I’m hoping she might be able to glean some more information from those for us.’

‘It’s going to be bloody hard if they weren’t in situ,’ said Sharp. ‘Unless the dentistry suggests he had work done while he was overseas.’

‘Do you think we’re onto something with this tattoo being something to do with the army, then?’

‘I think it’s worth following up, yes.’ He pulled a notebook from his pocket and scribbled across a fresh page before pointing the end of the pen at the images. ‘Can I have those?’

‘Of course.’

‘Okay, what I’ll do is make some phone calls, speak to some of the contacts I have that have either retired or are still serving. What else is your lot doing?’

‘Gavin and Laura are out helping with the house-to-house enquiries around Maitland’s farm. Barnes is currently going through the ANPR reports with Debbie West to see if any of those raise any flags. We’re concentrating on vehicles owned by anyone with previous convictions for assault and that sort of thing who might have been in the area.’ Kay pushed back her chair and stretched. ‘Carys has started working through the property searches for a wider radius around the farm in case there’s anyone we should be talking to with previous convictions as well. There’s no-one within the current house-to-house parameters that appear in the system.’

‘Sounds like it’s all under control,’ said Sharp, and rested his elbows on the desk. ‘How’s our new recruit settling in?’

‘Laura? Really well, actually. It’s going to be interesting to see how she balances this investigation alongside her exams, but I’ve tasked Gavin with mentoring her. Given that he was in the same situation a couple of years ago, hopefully she’ll learn from him.’

‘Good. All right, keep me posted.’

CHAPTERSIX

Kay hunkered into the thick collar of her woollen coat and checked over her shoulder before crossing Palace Avenue.

Her low heels wobbled on the uneven surface of the pedestrianised lane leading towards the High Street, and, as her calf muscles tightened with the incline of Gabriel’s Hill, she concentrated on taking deep breaths to help ease out the stress from the past few hours.

A freshness pinched the air around her, as if winter wasn’t yet ready to release its grip from the county, while her breath escaped her lips in a fine mist.

She let her mind wander as she gazed into the shop windows she passed.

On her left, the charity bookshop had changed its display to one focusing on local guides, no doubt hoping that some early season tourists would take advantage of the chance to learn more about the county town and contribute to a good cause at the same time.

She smiled, partially thankful that the door was locked and the sign had been turned in the window to read “closed”, otherwise she would have been tempted to browse the paperbacks that lined the shelves.

Adam, her veterinary other half, would have a heart attack if she bought more books. The shelves in their living room were already bowing with the weight of their combined reading passions – not to mention the hefty technical tomes he kept for work.

An old nightclub remained shuttered, and the place appeared forlorn as she walked past its bare concrete steps.

Her mouth twisted at memories of policing the street as a young uniformed constable in the months prior to starting her training as a detective. The lane might be clear at the moment, but at the weekend it would only be a matter of a few hours before the pavements were covered in empty kebab trays, takeaway burger wrappers, and worse.

Midweek, however, the town was quieter, more sedate, and a little less confrontational.

When she reached the top of the lane, she turned left into Jubilee Square and hurried across the road towards the alleyway known as Market Buildings.

She loved the shortcut through to Earl Street – boutique clothing shops and artisan cafés jostled for space alongside vape shops and pubs, with the latter the only one doing business this time of night.

Adam had booked the table for seven – despite it only being midweek, there was a play on at the small theatre further up the street, and they both knew how busy the local eateries could get after a performance as both audience and actors alike poured into pubs and restaurants up and down the street.

She passed a dark-green sandwich board on the pavement at the door to the eatery as a waft of cooking aromas wrapped themselves around her.

The maître d’ smiled as he took her coat and hung it on a rack behind the reception counter. ‘Good to see you. Your other half is already here.’

‘Has he been waiting long?’

He shook his head, and gestured towards the tables set out in a room off to the left of the main door. ‘He arrived about fifteen minutes ago. I’ve got a bottle of Australian Verdelho on its way to the table for you. Nicely chilled.’

Kay stopped in her tracks. ‘Really? How’d you get hold of that? We can’t find it anywhere.’

He winked. ‘It’s a secret. The boss would kill me if I told you.’

She laughed as they reached the table.

Adam rose from his seat, kissed her cheek and waited while the maître d’ settled her into her chair. As the man walked away to another table, he reached out for her hand and ran his thumb across her fingers.

‘You look gorgeous.’

‘I’m wearing my work clothes.’

‘They’re better than mine, which are currently soaking in a bucket of hot water at home.’

‘Oh, no – what was it this time?’

‘Don’t ask. Hopefully the stains will come out.’

She laughed, and then spotted a waiter crossing the room towards them. She quickly ran her eyes down the menu Adam handed to her, and placed her order.

As the man headed off to the kitchen, she emitted a contented sigh.

‘This was a good idea.’

‘I figured if you had a new case, I wouldn’t see much of you over the next few weeks, so I’d get you alone while I can.’

‘That’s probably not a bad idea. I have a feeling this isn’t going to be an easy one.’

‘Grim?’

‘Very – and unusual.’ She gave him the briefest of explanations, not wishing to put him off his dinner and mindful of the confidential nature of her work. ‘We get the post mortem results sometime tomorrow with any luck. Hopefully that will help.’

‘Best make the most of tonight, then.’

Their starters arrived; a mixture of olives, bread and dips on a share plate that was placed between them. After their wineglasses were refilled, the waiter wished them a pleasant meal and retreated to the bar.

Kay shredded a slice of bread between her fingers and dipped it into a ramekin of balsamic vinegar. ‘We haven’t been out properly for ages. Haven’t you got a waif or stray waiting at home to be cared for?’

‘Not this week – unless you want two very friendly Vietnamese potbellied pigs in your kitchen.’

‘Er, no thanks.’

‘Didn’t think so. Don’t worry – they’re happily taking advantage of one of our pens at the surgery. If you need a break from the office, you should drop by and see them.’

‘I’ll try.’

‘Things might change next week, though – just to warn you. We got a call from a wildlife rescue place at Thurnham this afternoon. They’ve received a few calls about a litter of fox cubs that were seen out on the Pilgrim’s Way looking worse for wear. If they haven’t got anyone to take them in for a few days once they’ve been captured and given a clean bill of health, I might work from home and do that. I can keep up with the feeding routine in between finishing a paper I have to submit before the end of the month.’

‘Fox cubs? Christ, don’t tell Carys – she’ll move in.’

As she wiped the last of the crumbs from her fingers, the waiter came to remove the plates, and minutes later their main courses arrived.

Kay eyed her steak with relish as accompaniments were brought to the table, a large bowl brimming with steamed vegetables and a dish laden with new potatoes that shone with a buttered polish.

She waited until Adam began to cut through the tender meat of the spatchcock he’d ordered, and leaned closer. ‘This is the part I hate about investigations. Waiting, and wondering where we might get the breakthrough.’

‘It’s still the golden hour, isn’t it?’

She wrinkled her nose.

Adam was right, the first few hours of any major crime investigation were the most important, but not always the most fruitful.

‘The problem,’ she said, lowering her voice as the woman from the next table sidled past and sat, ‘is that we don’t know when he got there. We don’t know how long he was lying out there. It could’ve been any time between last Tuesday and this morning.’

‘I know a few smallholding owners north of that area. If you get stuck, I can put you in touch with them. The smaller property owners tend to look out for each other, especially when it comes to equipment theft or anything like that. They might be able to help.’

‘Thanks. Hang on for the time being – I’ll let you know if we get to that point.’

‘Okay. I’ll keep my ears open when I’m out and about on my rounds in the meantime.’ He pointed at her steak with his fork. ‘Now, eat. I can hear your stomach rumbling from here.’

CHAPTERSEVEN

‘Good morning, detectives.’

Lucas Anderson peered over his shoulder as Kay and Carys shuffled through the double doors into the examination room, their protective coveralls rustling in the air-conditioned stillness.

The home office pathologist’s place of work at Darent Valley Hospital was a cramped space tucked away on the first floor behind the pharmacy and the radiological department. Despite this he and Simon Winter, his assistant, somehow managed to cope with post mortems requested both through the hospital and by the Kent County coroner.

Kay had never got used to the smell.

As much as she tried, the stench of death would cling to her nostrils, her clothes, and her skin for at least twenty-four hours afterwards. She wasn’t sure whether it was her imagination or scientific fact but talking to her colleagues from time to time, all of them agreed.

Kay didn’t know how Lucas coped, but she was glad that he did. So often, her investigation could hinge on the information the pathologist gleaned from the unfortunate souls that found themselves in his company.

‘Started without us, Lucas?’ said Carys, drawing nearer to the aluminium table. ‘Jesus.’

Kay chuckled as her colleague reared backwards at the last minute, bringing the back of her hand close to her mouth.

‘I told you it wouldn’t be pretty.’

‘Even so, guv.’ The detective constable blinked, and then turned back to the body laid out before them. ‘Poor bastard.’

‘Indeed,’ said Lucas. He gestured to the twenty-something lanky mortuary assistant who hovered in the background, his gloved hands carrying two aluminium bowls with indeterminate contents. He nodded to the two detectives and then turned his attention to a collection of instruments and equipment on a counter that ran the length of the back wall. ‘Simon and I made a start half an hour ago, so you’ve missed the worst of it.’

Kay let out the breath she had been holding. ‘Have you managed to glean any more information as to how he was killed?’

Lucas sighed, and gestured to the body before him. ‘It’s not straightforward, I’m afraid. He has lacerations to his forearms, several broken ribs, a broken pelvis – you can see here how badly his legs are broken. That suggests to me a large impact injury, but I’m waiting on the X-ray results to clarify that. Simon is conducting some tests on the liver, heart and pancreas over there. There are ligature marks on his wrists as well, suggestive of being bound together with plastic zip ties similar to that found around one of his ankles. On first inspection, we can see compression injuries to the vital organs – all of them, not just those that Simon has been testing. When I’m finished here, I’ll make some phone calls to some colleagues of mine in the Greater London area because there are some points I want to discuss with them before I go any further.’

‘Have you got a cause of death?’ said Kay.

The pathologist gave a mirthless chuckle, and then shrugged. ‘It’s difficult to pinpoint at the moment. Any one of those injuries would have been enough to kill him. Or, the shock of any of these injuries could have caused a heart attack. We just have to work out the order in which they were sustained. His fingertips and the skin on his hands would lead us to believe he worked as a manual labourer. There were traces of splinters in the palm of his hand, and his fingernails – the ones that aren’t broken – appear worn.’

‘So, not a white collar worker, then.’

‘I wouldn’t think so. Even if he was a keen gardener or handyman in his spare time, this sort of wear and tear accumulates over a long period of time, perhaps years.’

‘What about any old injuries?’ said Carys. ‘Is there anything like dental work or titanium plates on any leg or arm injuries for instance that could be used to identify him?’

‘There were half a dozen teeth left in his mouth by the time we got him here,’ said Lucas. ‘Two more fell loose during transportation, and of course Harriet and her team gathered up the remainder at the scene.’

‘I’ve got some of them here,’ said Simon, and held up an aluminium tray. ‘The rest have been sent off to the specialist.’

Carys wrinkled her nose as the lab assistant shook the tray and its contents rattled. ‘Any clues amongst that lot?’

‘He hadn’t been to see a dentist in a long while,’ said Simon. ‘But no, there are no dentures or bridging plates for us to work with.’

‘There’s an old injury to his ankle bone,’ said Lucas, and beckoned them along the length of the table to the man’s feet. ‘It’ll be easier to show you once I’ve got the X-rays to hand, but you can see the skin is slightly raised here – this has been broken before, and given the way the skin has healed, I’m inclined to think that this injury is several years old. He certainly didn’t sustain it at the same time as all of these other ones.’

Kay battened down the frustration that threatened. ‘What about his age? Any further ideas on that?’

‘I can’t narrow it down much more other than to say he is in his late forties to early fifties.’

‘And you can’t give us a cause of death until you hear from your colleagues in Greater London––’

‘I’m sorry, Kay.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve asked Brian or Hugo to give me a call as soon as possible. They know it’s urgent – I’m hoping I’ll hear back from them this morning. As soon as I do, and if they can shed any light on this, I’ll give you a call.’

‘Thanks, Lucas. I understand – it’s frustrating, that’s all. We know nothing about him. We did wonder if the tattoo on his bicep might be military,’ said Kay. ‘Sharp is going to have a word with some of his ex-army contacts.’

‘Well, given the state of his physiology, he hasn’t been in the armed forces for a long time. The muscle definition just isn’t there.’

‘A real man of mystery then,’ said Kay.

As if picking up on the disappointment in her voice, Lucas wagged a finger.

‘I’m not giving up on him yet,’ he said. ‘I have some ideas about this, but I want to make sure I’ve got my facts right before I send you off down the wrong path with your enquiries.’

CHAPTEREIGHT

Ian Barnes slurped his tea, pushed his reading glasses up his nose, and rolled his chair closer to the desk.

A steady hum of activity filled the room around him, a white noise that fluctuated in and out of his consciousness as he worked. The rattle of the photocopier as it juddered to a halt jarred with the constant ringing of desk phones and mobiles as each of the investigating officers worked through the tasks Kay had given them at that morning’s briefing, trying to progress their enquiries.

A thin veil of condensation clung to the windowpanes as the steady hum of traffic on Palace Avenue passed by below. In the distance, a siren wailed and he paused in his work for a moment before gauging that it belonged to an ambulance, and not one of his colleagues’ patrol cars.

The door burst open as Kay hurried into the room with Carys at her heels, their excitement palpable.

‘Everyone, to the front of the room now,’ she said. ‘We’ve had a breakthrough, and I need your full attention.’

Barnes raised an eyebrow at her as she threw her bag under the desk after pulling out her notebook. ‘I take it Lucas has struck gold?’

‘You’re not going to believe this, Ian,’ she said, ‘but I think he has. Come on, I’ll explain everything.’