Mark Stone stood up. ‘And yet she did. Along with a selection of crows, magpies and rabbits, all of which were also found with their throats cut or their heads smashed in.’ Maybe regretting the harshness of his words, he said, ‘I appreciate your taking the time to come here today, Clare. We always encourage members of the public to talk to us if they believe they have any evidence relating to a criminal offence. But as far as I can see, nothing that you’ve shared with me this afternoon tells us anything new. And, tragic though it is, there is not one scrap of evidence to suggest that Dr Kinsella’s death was anything other than self-inflicted. She was clearly a brilliant but extremely troubled individual. I very much hope that your excavation passes without further incident. But I really don’t think there’s any cause for anxiety on the part of you or your team.’

The patronising sod. Clare drew in a deep breath, in a not entirely successful attempt to maintain her composure. Stone clearly had her down as some sort of interfering busybody with an over-active imagination. Well, if he thought she was going to let him off the hook that easily, he had another thing coming. He obviously had no intention of taking her seriously about Beth Kinsella’s death. But if he already had her down as some sort of nutcase, what harm could it do to try to get him to at least take the other illegal activity on the site seriously? If she achieved nothing else from today’s visit at least she’d be able to walk away with a clear conscience and ensure that the nighthawks weren’t allowed to get away with ransacking any more ancient sites.

Stone gestured towards the door and made as if to stand up, clearly eager to be rid of her.

‘There’s something else I need to tell you.’

With an almost imperceptible sigh, Stone deposited himself back into his swivel chair. ‘Really, Mrs Hills, and what would that be?’

‘It’s about the nighthawk activity on our site.’

He sighed. ‘What about it? As I explained when we last spoke about this, we simply don’t have the resources to offer round-the-clock protection to every square inch of the Gloucestershire countryside.’

She nodded, still struggling to maintain an even tone. ‘I appreciate that, DCI Stone. But I know who was responsible. We traced them online – they were selling items they claimed were from Bailsgrove on an auction site. A colleague and I met with them.’

Stone pulled himself upright, his interest clearly peaked. ‘So you have some sort of evidence that the objects they were offering for sale actually came from your site. Is that correct?’