‘OK.’

‘I didn’t recognize your number.’

‘No. This is a new phone. Temporary.’

He sounded afraid then, and she got a shiver up the back of her neck.

‘I’ll see you Saturday, OK?’ she said.

‘Yeah. See you then.’

He hung up and Becky clutched her phone, heart thumping. He was going to tell her something. Something big, she could sense it. She stood up, smoothed down her skirt, composed herself, then opened the cubicle door.

‘Jesus!’

Piers was standing by the sinks, leaning against the wall. Becky stared at him in fury and dismay. What had he heard? She thought back frantically. Nothing – except where she’d agreed to meet Adam. Shit. She’d have to rearrange. Think of somewhere else.

Piers watched her. ‘Who was that, Ellis?’

‘Just fuck off, Piers,’ said Becky, angrily. ‘Just FUCK OFF!’ She barged past him and stormed out, the door slamming behind her.

FORTY

2018

Justin pulled the tractor up in the yard and jumped down from the cab. He was hot and grimy; the sun had turned the ground to dust. He headed towards the farmhouse, slowing as he neared the building: leaning against his motorbike, with his face cast up to the sun, was Janković. As Janković turned, Justin quickly resumed his normal step. He walked on and into his house, without even acknowledging his visitor.

Of course Janković followed, as Justin knew he would, letting himself into the kitchen. Justin felt Janković’s eyes follow him, watching as he got a glass of water from the tap. In anger, he spun around.

‘What?’

‘Nice to see you, too.’

It grated on Justin that Janković was so calm. ‘Cut the bullshit. Why are you here?’

‘Just checking up on our little arrangement.’

‘I offered Rob Bolton the money. Like you said.’

‘He’s in?’

‘Yes.’

‘And the others?’

‘I don’t know yet.’

Janković frowned. ‘Don’t take too long with that. We want to get this tidied up as soon as possible.’ He paused. ‘For all our sakes,’ he said pointedly.

Justin didn’t trust himself to speak; he took a sip of water.

‘You know a Caitriona Ellis?’ Janković asked.

The question took Justin by surprise. Did he? Jesus, yes. That woman who came to the farm a couple of months ago. Asking questions. Wasn’t she a Caitriona?

‘No.’

‘You’re lying.’ Janković walked over to the knife block and extracted one. He took it to the table and sat down, all the while holding the blade up, inspecting it. ‘You’ve broken our trust.’

‘I won’t be a part of this.’

‘You already are. You’re the one who gave us all the information. Told us about the journalist busybody.’

‘Yes, but I didn’t know you were going to . . .’

‘Go on. You can say it.’

Justin gritted his teeth. Don’t let him rattle you. ‘You still haven’t told me. Why did she die? It’s only spraying. Happens everywhere.’

‘Nothing you need to know about.’

‘No? If I’m such a valued member of the company, I want to know.’ Justin, bolstered by a rush of bravado, took a step forward. Folded his arms.