The walk into town seemed to take twice as long as it normally did and Amber had to frequently stop to rest against the trees. She was covered in bruises from Bertie’s violent treatment of her and added to this her face was hideously swollen and throbbing, but still she pushed on – nothing could have stopped her. By the time the police station came into view she felt close to collapse but forcing herself to stand upright she marched inside and up to the desk where a young policeman was doodling on the blotter.

‘I’ve come to see Barna— my husband, Mr Greenwood,’ she informed him and he swallowed.

‘Right . . . I’ll, er . . . just go an’ get the sergeant. Luckily, he’s just come in,’ he said and scuttled through the door behind him.

He returned with the same policeman who had come to the house the night before.

‘I’ve come to see how Barnaby is,’ she told him without giving him a chance to speak.

‘Well, the doctor’s in with him at the moment,’ he explained. ‘I’m afraid he has a fever this mornin’ an what with that an’ his leg . . .’ He shook his head and Amber’s stomach did a somersault. Was the sergeant trying to tell her that Barnaby wasn’t going to make it?

‘I still want to see him,’ she said stubbornly and after hesitating for a moment he sighed and lifted a large key that was hanging with some others on a nail behind the desk. The girl certainly had spirit, he had to give her that. Most young women would still be in bed recovering after what she had been through the night before.

‘Just for a few minutes then.’ He lifted the flap in the counter and led her to the door that would take them down to the cells. ‘By rights I shouldn’t be allowing anyone to see him until he’s seen the solicitor,’ he told her. ‘But there’s not much chance of that happening yet. He’s well and truly out of it.’

The sergeant could hardly take in what had happened the night before – and it wasn’t just the incident on the cliffs. He had been called in early when one of the neighbours in Argument’s Yard had noticed that Mrs Preston’s door was flapping open in the breeze, and when they’d gone in to check on her, they’d found a bloodbath. The woman was covered in bruises and the house looked as if a hurricane had gone through it, but worse than that was the fact that she was quite dead with a knife on the floor beside her and her wrists slashed. Whitby was usually such a quiet place and now here he was with two deaths to deal with in one night!