‘Can you deal with this one, Ben? The commander’s preparing for the Jordan exercise and he really hasn’t got time for this shit. Just find out who liaises with the authorities from the garrison, will you, and get someone sent to his address as a matter of urgency.’

‘Of course, Brigadier. Leave it with me.’

Chapter 36

As the sun disappeared behind the Pennines, Kelly allowed herself to enjoy the moment and try to find some space in her head. She was almost home. The last time she’d made this journey, she’d been travelling to the Lakes for very different reasons, her tail between her legs, dishonoured by a colleague and unsure of her career and her future.

She’d been going to see her mother that day, and she wished she could talk to her now. It happened a lot. She heard her mother’s voice every day. She missed her warmth, her wisdom and her peace. Wendy had exuded a constancy that Kelly could only strive for. Perhaps everyone compared themselves to their mother, and always fell short. As usual, her thoughts turned to regret. She’d been assured by many people, including Johnny, that it was normal. When someone so central to your life died, you yearned to make things right. She’d asked herself if she thought they would have been friends had they not been mother and daughter.

She tutted and crossed her legs: her attempt at peace wasn’t going well. The car was quiet. Emma had secured the warrant for information to be supplied by the late Lord Allerdale’s solicitors, and it was being prepared. Kelly stared out of the window at the dying day and willed herself home. The last part of the journey, once past Manchester and Liverpool on the M6, was the quickest and most satisfying. She could see the mountains to the west and wished she was on top of one right now. It was a peculiar sensation, standing on the highest point of land and turning three hundred and sixty degrees, taking it all in, soaking up the awe. That was about the only thing that could truly clear her head, and she yearned for it now.

Finally the car pulled off the motorway. They’d soon be home. The prospect of sitting on her wooden terrace, listening to the stillness of the river, sipping a glass of wine, calmed her. In the five hours it had taken them to get here, the investigation had grown yet bigger and more complex. They always did. The worst part wasn’t wondering what was coming next; it was worrying that the leads would start to dry up before the case had been closed. She’d worked on unsolved cases before, and they left an indelible mark. They were excruciatingly unsatisfying for everyone involved: families, officers, witnesses and the SIO.