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

‘My parents don’t give a shit actually. They moved to Spain, bought a bar. Act as if they’re twenty again. No responsibilities, pissed every night.’

‘Living the dream,’ Vera muttered, only loud enough for Ashworth to hear.

‘That social worker was a patronizing cow,’ the girl went on. ‘I had teachers like her. The ones that talk to you as if you’re daft, as if they always know best. You could see how she might wind someone up so they lost their temper and killed her.’

‘Where did you meet Michael?’ Ashworth asked. Outside in the main village street the shops were closing for the evening. The light had faded. The mist had seeped in from the sea and they could hear the foghorn at the mouth of the Tyne. From the metro station the first commuters were coming home from work. The waiter lit the candle on their table and the sudden flare of the flame lit up the girl’s face.

‘At the Willows,’ she said, brushing her long hair away from her face. ‘You know, the smart hotel on the other side of town. He used to run a clinic once a week in the health club. I’ve been working as a waitress there at weekends since I was fifteen. We met at the beginning of December, the staff Christmas party.’

Chapter Twenty-One

Vera sat alone in the house that had once been her father’s. Nights like this, a few glasses in to a bottle of Scotch, she could still imagine him there, lording it in the only comfortable armchair close to the fire. Or at the table, spread with plastic sheeting, his hand up the backside of some dead bird, preparing to stuff it, his eyes narrowed in concentration. That smell of dead flesh and chemicals.

‘Taxidermy. Art and science combined,’ he’d say.

And theft. And murder. Because he’d taken rare birds from the wild, killed them to the order of collectors as barking mad as he was, and she’d never shopped him. What had that made her? It came to her now that this case was all about families, the weird ties between kids and their parents. Blood and water, she thought, remembering Elias, drowned by the mother who claimed to love him.

She’d grown up with Hector’s insults, mocking, masked as humour: ‘Your mother was a beautiful woman. I only ever collect beautiful objects. Oh, Vee, whatever happened to you? Where did you spring from? Must be my side of the family, eh? Let’s hope you have my brains.’

Only I didn’t even get the brains, she thought now, throwing another log onto the fire, watching it spit, the bark peel and split. I should have checked for a connection between Michael Morgan and the Willows. Basic policing.