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Chapters (43)
  1. Dedication
  2. Epigraph
  3. Chapter One
  4. Chapter Two
  5. Chapter Three
  6. Chapter Four
  7. Chapter Five
  8. Chapter Six
  9. Chapter Seven
  10. Chapter Eight
  11. Chapter Nine
  12. Chapter Ten
  13. Chapter Eleven
  14. Chapter Twelve
  15. Chapter Thirteen
  16. Chapter Fourteen
  17. Chapter Fifteen
  18. Chapter Sixteen
  19. Chapter Seventeen
  20. Chapter Eighteen
  21. Chapter Nineteen
  22. Chapter Twenty
  23. Chapter Twenty-One
  24. Chapter Twenty-Two
  25. Chapter Twenty-Three
  26. Chapter Twenty-Four
  27. Chapter Twenty-Five
  28. Chapter Twenty-Six
  29. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  30. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  31. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  32. Chapter Thirty
  33. Chapter Thirty-One
  34. Chapter Thirty-Two
  35. Chapter Thirty-Three
  36. Chapter Thirty-Four
  37. Chapter Thirty-Five
  38. Chapter Thirty-Six
  39. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  40. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  41. About the Author
  42. Also by Stephen Booth
  43. About the Publisher

‘Christ, it’s only a bit of pot. I couldn’t take it home with me, in case my mum found it.’

‘So is that all we’ll find when we search the caravan?’

Jamie wriggled uncomfortably, but didn’t answer.

‘It would be better if you told me now,’ said Fry, ‘rather than having to answer questions under caution down at the station.’

He hung his head. ‘All the blokes did it,’ he said. ‘They all took things from the site. They said if things had been left lying around, it was because no one wanted them. Nikolai said it himself. He was right, wasn’t he? It’s not really stealing.’

‘What did you take, Jamie?’

‘It’s in the drawer under the sink. None of the others ever went into the caravan, so I thought it would be safe.’

At Fry’s nod, Cooper pulled on a pair of latex gloves and went into the caravan.

‘It smells bad in here. And it’s not just the scent of cannabis being smoked, either.’

‘The drawer, Ben.’

‘OK, got it.’

Fry waited patiently. She was trying not to anticipate what Cooper would find in the drawer. But she couldn’t help images coming into her mind – visions of Derek Sutton lurking in the kitchen of Pity Wood Farm, bending over the sink, cooking up saltpetre for the preservation of a grisly relic.

But the object that Cooper was holding when he emerged was the wrong shape to match her mental image. It was a box covered in felt. When he opened it, she could see that it contained a medal on a purple-and-green ribbon.

‘Awarded to Private Raymond Sutton, 1st Battalion Sherwood Foresters,’ said Cooper.

‘Mr Sutton served in the war?’

‘Not the Second World War, he’s a bit too young. This is a General Service Medal, and the bar says Malaya. He must have been fighting Communists in the 1950s.’

‘So he really did leave his past behind.’ Fry looked at Jamie Ward again. ‘Don’t tell me – eBay?’

‘I’ve seen them going for fifty or sixty quid,’ he said. ‘I need the money.’

‘To help your studies? Or to buy more pot?’

‘I’m sorry.’

Jamie looked so ashamed of himself that Fry sighed. ‘You can go. But if I see you round here, Jamie, I’ll make sure you’re locked up.’

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Later that morning, Cooper looked up the word ‘fey’ in a copy of the Collins English Dictionary. He’d borrowed the book a few weeks ago from his landlady, Mrs Shelley. She loved loaning him her books – she thought she was helping with his education, her tenant being an ignorant but well-meaning police constable and all.