‘Not being melodramatic, but do you think it’s the animal rights people?’ she said.

‘What makes you say that?’

‘We’ve had threats. And someone’s smashed the CCTV.’ Anna shook her head. ‘But surely, they wouldn’t … Maybe she went for a walk or …’

I looked at the sun-scorched hills in the distance. A faint smell of smoke hung in the air. It wasn’t an ideal spot for a hike.

‘How far are we from the reservoir?’ Jai said.

The beauty of Ladybower Reservoir seemed to act as a magnet for death. It was well known, to us at least. If some poor soul was planning to slit an artery and bleed to death in north Derbyshire, there was a fair chance Ladybower would be the destination of choice.

Anna said, ‘It’s just over the hill.’

‘Let’s take a few details inside,’ I said. ‘Can we see the smashed CCTV?’

Anna led us through a door into a grey corridor and on into a small room. The building was functional rather than swish, but had been recently renovated. So far, it was mercifully free of butchered animals.

I leaned to peer at the CCTV box, which looked like it had been set about with a baseball bat. I stepped back to let Jai see. ‘They’ve taken the hard drive,’ he said.

‘Let’s get this area sealed off and processed,’ I said.

We shuffled out of the room. A man was walking towards us down the corridor. He was lean, toned, and good-looking in a rough, footballer kind of way, and he moved like a man with something to prove.

Anna said, ‘What is it, Gary?’ I sensed tension between them. A slight narrowing of his eyes; a fractional curling of her upper lip. ‘This is my brother,’ Anna said. ‘He works here too.’

The man held up an expensive-looking, glittery, and clearly now evidentially compromised object. We needed to get the scene under control. ‘I found a watch,’ he said. ‘It—’

‘That’s Violet’s,’ Anna said. ‘Why on earth would she take off her watch? Where did you find it?’

‘If you’d let me finish, I’d tell you. I don’t know why she’d have gone there – it wasn’t in the area she cleans. It’s bloody weird, if you ask me.’

‘Just tell us where it was, Gary!’

‘It was beside the pig pens.’ He shot Anna a look that was almost accusing. ‘And there’s blood on it.’

2

Anna Finchley led us into an office containing a desk and four chairs. White-painted walls were covered with a surprising collection of abstract art – the kind with blobs of colour that my dad would say a three-year-old could do – and a prominent TV screen. Anna sank down on one of the chairs, crossing her legs and arms as if protecting herself.