‘I heard you at the briefing this morning. You couldn’t help putting your oar in about those two travellers in the quarry, could you? You’re turning into quite the little rebel, with this habit of sticking up for people against all odds.’

‘That’s not the intention.’

Cooper turned to one side and picked up some papers from his desk, dropping his eyes from contact with hers. He heard her sigh with exasperation and bang a chair on the floor. He let a few moments of silence develop before he spoke again.

‘I’ve heard you’re going to be working with DI Armstrong,’ he said. ‘When your promotion is confirmed.’

Fry didn’t answer straight away. He looked up to see her frowning at him. ‘She’s doing some very good work,’ she said.

‘Yes, I know.’

‘You don’t sound too sure about that, Ben,’ she said. ‘What problem have you got with Kim Armstrong?’

‘No problem, really.’

Cooper eyed the files on his desk. The work had been piling up since the murder enquiry started. There were so many things for him to follow up, when he had time. He was startled when he found that Fry had moved suddenly nearer to him and was staring into his face. He found her closeness intimidating.

‘Come on, out with it,’ she said. ‘What are you suggesting about DI Armstrong?’

‘Well, she’s got her own agenda, of course. Everybody says that.’

‘That’s a load of crap, and you know it. Kim Armstrong is a capable woman doing a good job. She’s in charge of a major enquiry, and she cares about what she’s doing. There was a little girl that was killed . . .’

Fry ground to a halt. Cooper realized that he was smiling at her. The expression on his face must look ridiculous and derisive, but it was a natural response that had sprung from deep inside him at seeing Fry suddenly passionate in her defence of someone. He nodded at her, though the gesture barely seemed adequate.

She backed off, baffled. She picked up a waste-paper bin from the floor and put it on the empty desk, then began clearing out drawers. Cooper watched her hurl the leftover possessions of the previous occupant into the bin without looking at them.

‘OK, Diane,’ he said. ‘You were telling me about this little girl who was killed. What happened to her?’

Fry pulled out a 1999 calendar with pictures of naked women draped over bright red sports cars. With a grimace, she tore it in half and thrust it into the bin.

‘Nobody really knows,’ she said. ‘Nobody knows what awful things might have happened to her before she died.’

15

Owen Fox felt his fingers start to tingle. He thought about finding his gloves in his jacket pocket to protect himself from the cold. But he knew it wasn’t just the cold that he could feel.