Litton Foot lay deep in Ravensdale, above Cressbrook village. Ash woods hung above the stream here, deep and dank. Ivy had wrapped itself around the tall, slender trunks of the trees, spiralling high into the canopy, seeking a bit of sun. Everything at ground level was covered in moss so thick that it was difficult to tell what was stone, what was wood, and what was something else slowly rotting in the damp air.

Just downstream, he knew there were two rows of cottages built for the workers at Cressbrook Mill, but they weren’t visible from here. Stepping stones crossed the water down there to help climbers reach the limestone pitches on Ravenscliffe Crags. On the wet margins of the stream grew clumps of a plant that Cooper didn’t recognize – something like a ten-foot-high cow parsley with purple stems and spotted leaf stalks, furred with tiny spines.

‘There’s a footpath at the bottom of your land, isn’t there, sir?’ he said.

‘It isn’t the footpath that’s the problem,’ said Jarvis. ‘That’s been there for centuries, as far as I know. It’s this new law they brought in. This … what is it? … right to roam. Some folk think it gives them the right to go traipsing all over the shop. There was a bunch of them came right down through the paddock and tried to walk across the weir. I don’t mind admitting, I were fair chuffed when one of them fell in the stream. She were near to drowning, judging by her noise.’

Finally, they reached the patch of ground that had been dug out around the remains of the unidentified woman. Blue-and-white police tape still clung to the trunks of nearby trees, some of it trailing on the ground now in sodden strands, one loose end rattling sporadically in the breeze. Cooper couldn’t tell now how wide an area the search had covered.

He hadn’t brought any of the scene photos with him, but could remember them well enough to picture the position of the skeleton. The skull had been at the far end of the excavation, close to the roots of an ash tree; the arms had been slightly bent at the elbow, so that the fleshless hands rested somewhere in the pelvic region, while the legs were laid out straight and close together, with the feet near to where he was standing now.

Cooper looked up through the canopy of trees to locate the sun. The cloud cover wasn’t heavy, and a gleam of brightness was visible, despite the rain. Higher up, on the moors, he could always orient himself if he could see the sun. But down here, among the winding dales and shelving banks of woodland, it was easy to lose his sense of direction.

Most of the available sunlight seemed to be coming from beyond the trees to his left. Since it was morning, that should be approximately southeast. Cooper patted the pockets of his jacket. Somewhere here, he was sure … ah, yes. He pulled out a small Silva compass and swivelled it until he’d oriented the needle to the north. He looked at the grave again. Head there, feet here. He nodded. But it probably meant nothing.