‘Will do,’ said Rhys.

I headed for the matron’s quarters, where I stripped down the master bed. When Rhys and Joe finally joined me, they grabbed the mattress and shuffled straight back out again.

‘So anyway,’ said Joe, reverting to the subject of Shaun’s investigation as if we’d never digressed, ‘the boss is all set to tear those three kids a new one and see what shakes loose. Swear to God, we’ll nail the bugger. But it might take the rest of the day.’ Adjusting the weight that was pressing against the side of his head, he added, ‘Shaun says you used to teach Darren. Is that right?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you think he might have done this?’

I shrugged. Over on the parade ground Shaun was bawling at his platoon. ‘Advance in review order! Not funny, Mr Kollios!’ The noise grated on my ears like a screen door banging.

I had to unlock my own back door because I’d decided it would be a good idea to lock absolutely everything from now on. By the time I reached the bedroom, Joe and Rhys were close behind me. ‘You like puzzles?’ asked Rhys, hurling my new mattress onto the bed. He’d spotted the stack of jigsaw puzzles on top of my wardrobe.

‘Sometimes.’ I just wanted them to leave.

‘Must be good to have a few puzzles when you’re here by yourself.’ Rhys smiled kindly. I had a feeling he saw me as a reliable but slightly pathetic middle-aged oddball.

‘Do you want us to make the bed?’ Joe was eyeing the folded sheets on my dressing table.

‘No, thanks.’ I took a deep breath. ‘You should probably get back out there.’

‘Yeah. We probably should.’ Then Rhys left, and the room felt bigger. Joe hesitated on the threshold, his dark eyes searching my face.

‘Are you all right, Robyn?’

‘Fine, thanks.’ For someone who’d been an army communications specialist, he was bad at reading signals. ‘There’s a lot to get done is all.’

‘Sure. Well…see you at lunch.’

After they’d gone, I made the bed. Then I went to answer emails in my office. But I couldn’t concentrate—and it wasn’t just because of Shaun’s rapid-fire commands as he put the boys through their paces. Even after he’d dismissed the platoon, I found it hard to fix my attention on quotes and invoices. My thoughts kept circling back to that heap of rotting garbage.

The broken tap made sense. It was angry. Desperate. Not impulsive—the timing was too precise—but it had that genuine tang of adolescent rage.

The garbage was different. It felt wily and vicious. It felt personal.

‘Robyn?’ Shaun tapped on the office door. ‘Have you got a moment?’

‘Yeah.’ A quick scan of the room told me everything was in order. There were no discarded shoes or overflowing bins. No dirty mugs on the filing cabinet.