Nothing moved. Kinnear was gone, Fine was sure. All around them country silence reigned. Even the birds had shut up for the night and the faint rustlings in the undergrowth that Fine had been aware of when they first got out of the car had ceased as well.

‘Where was Kinnear holed up?’

Sharon pointed to one of the out buildings. ‘In there. Derek said the owners started a conversion, ran out of money, then they sold up and moved on.’

‘So he knew something about this place. Did he know the owners?’

She shrugged. ‘Maybe Rupert did. Rupert knew everyone. He might have mentioned it. They talked a lot about lost villages, the death of communities, that sort of political stuff. Round here Rupert was all het up about drainage or something.’

‘You mean way back when?’

She shook her head. ‘No, something about the water table. There was a report or some such a couple of years ago. I didn’t take much notice. Sorry.’

Fine nodded, he vaguely recalled it. There was some big debate about the extensions of the Peatlands trails and draining of what was left of the fenland. Worries too that peat extraction would lead to the flooding of farmland. Fine was familiar with the anxieties.

He watched as the armed commander pushed the door, then gestured the other officers forward. ‘Armed police,’ he shouted. ‘We’re coming in.’

Minutes later and he emerged again, gestured that Fine could come inside.

‘Long gone,’ he said. ‘We’ll secure the scene and get SOCO in first thing.’

‘Not tonight?’ Sharon asked

He grimaced. ‘SOCO are civilians. Hard to get them out after hours unless it’s an emergency. I don’t think this qualifies.’

‘Not like CSI then.’

‘No, not like CSI. Get back in the car. I’ve arranged a stay at a safe house for you tonight. Tomorrow I’ll take you to see Danny.’

It was late by the time Fine got to Fallowfields but everyone was still up.

‘We’ll be leaving in the morning,’ Alec told him. ‘Going home, I think. You’ve enough to do without protecting us.’

Fine nodded. The chair in which he sat was comfortable and he could easily drop off to sleep. ‘At least Danny’s mum’s OK. That’s one small blessing, though I think it’s going to be a long haul making up for all this.’

‘When will Reid be fit to talk?’

‘Morning, we hope. I’ve got someone with him all night. Not much more we can do. I just thought I’d bring you up to speed.’

‘Appreciate it,’ Alec said.

‘Oh, and there’s one more thing. The laptop and the books. I think we can safely consider them evidence now. I should take them away.’

‘Welcome,’ Alec said. ‘Patrick, will you do the honours?’

Fine bagged the books and laptop. ‘I’ll get these checked in tonight, then I’m off to my bed.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Alec agreed. ‘Reid should be able to give you the info on Kinnear and hopefully the worst is over now.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ Fine said. ‘I really do.’

Thirty-Five

Danny had risen early and come downstairs looking for something to eat. No bread, no cereal, no milk to speak of and his father was still absent.

He missed his mother.

He didn’t regret hanging up on her the night before. She deserved his punishment, Danny felt, but at the same time he would have welcomed a call from her now, if only so he could hang up again.

He wanted her home, or wanted them both to be somewhere else or … something. Danny really wasn’t sure.

He made some tea, taking the last of the milk and ate dry cereal, wondered if there was any money in the house. If so, he could at least get some shopping done. His dad didn’t seem to have thought about that in a while and had been impatient when Danny pointed it out to him.

He found a five-pound note and some pound coins in the biscuit jar, a place his mother regularly kept a spare bit of cash for emergencies, and another ten in his dad’s best jacket. Danny felt no qualms going through his parents’ things like this. He felt they’d both let him down so far and now it was up to him to manage any way he could.

He didn’t want to stay here any more.

Danny went back into the kitchen and stared hard at the phone, willing it to ring. It was only just after eight and he’d already been up since six. He wasn’t sure what time they’d all wake up at Fallowfields. He thought about calling his aunt. She had invited him to stay when his mum had left. He liked his auntie Paula but wasn’t sure if he could face the questions and the pity and the sharing a room with his cousin.

He wanted his dad to come back or his mum to call.

‘Fat chance,’ he muttered and turned his back on the offending telephone.

His mobile did ring though a few moments later. He grabbed it, read the name on the display. Patrick.

‘Yeah?’ He sounded too eager, Danny thought. He tried to modify his tone. ‘I mean, hi.’

Fine had called, Patrick told him. He’d asked if Danny’s mum could come over to Fallowfields so they could meet on neutral ground. She’d be there about noon but if Danny wanted to come for breakfast to come now, Harry was cooking.

‘I’ll be there,’ Danny told him. He wasn’t sure about the meeting with his mother but breakfast sounded good.

He pulled on his shoes and slammed the farmhouse door, only wondering later, as he set off across the field at a steady run, if his father had his keys.

Kinnear heard the door slam and looked down. He saw Danny crossing the yard. Earlier, the boy had gone out to check the feed bins for the cattle. The father had still not returned.

Kinnear had been thinking hard about what his next move might be. He needed to scout the police presence at Fallowfields. They’d be out looking for him, of that he was certain. He wondered what had happened to Derek Reid, not because he felt concern, but because whatever Reid had told the police might direct their next moves and so affect Kinnear’s. Puzzled, he saw the boy was heading across the field, not towards the road. He fished in his pack for the binoculars he’d brought with him. Trained them on the running figure of Danny Fielding.

Danny was running towards a gap in the hedge. Looking closer, he glimpsed a second figure waiting by the bit of a fence that blocked the way.

There was only one place the second figure could have come from, wasn’t there? It all clicked into place. Danny was headed for Fallowfields, coming in by a back way.

Kinnear restrained his urge to chase after the boy right then and there. No, give them time to get inside. He didn’t know if he could be seen from the house should he choose to follow. Take it slow, take it steady.

He packed his belongings back into his pack, undecided if to take it or to leave it in the barn. In the end he hoisted it on to his shoulder and started down the ladder back into the body of the barn. His gun felt heavy in the pocket of his coat and he felt hot, the day already warm, but it was a reassuring weight and the easiest way to carry it. Kinnear was not one to risk shoving a loaded gun into the waistband of his trousers.

Checking for signs that the father might have returned, but finding none, Kinnear strode straight across the yard and behind the house. Once in the field he breathed a little easier. He took his time, following the perimeter of the field, doing his best to ignore the bullocks and avoid their dung. The fence was an easy climb and the overgrown meadow no real obstacle. But then there was the wall.

Kinnear swore. Seven feet tall, he estimated, little in the way of handholds, still less places for his booted feet. The gate when he tried it, was locked. He could kick it down but that would be noisy and he had no way of knowing how far he was from the house. A fair way back, he guessed, seeing as how he had to stand well back, close beside the fence, even to glimpse the roof … If he could do it without noise then he better had.