He wanted to reassure her, to tell her it was highly unlikely, that this had nothing to do with the dig. But after what he’d just seen in the back garden of number 6 Weaver’s Close, he realised he’d already badly misjudged the situation. And if he was going to get answers, the dig site was where he’d be most likely to find them.

Jo glanced down at her watch. It had been a couple of hours since Clare had left to try to find Neil and she still hadn’t heard from either of them yet. They could ill afford to be one pair of hands down at the moment, let alone three. No Neil, no Clare and no Val – at least for a couple more days. But she guessed Clare had her priorities right at least. Neil was obviously having a tough time. And living people had to come before prehistory. She just wished Clare would damn well hurry up and find him.

In Val’s absence, Jo was trying to restore some sort of order to the finds that had been scattered to all corners of the office, in what had now become known in the latest outbreak of trench humour as Brickgate. Thus far she’d had little success, and when she got to her feet to see who the car that had just pulled up belonged to it was something of a welcome diversion. She stuck her head out of the Portakabin door hoping that she might see Clare, but instead she found herself face-to-face with DCI Mark Stone.

Jo blinked as she stepped out into the bright sunshine. ‘Hi, can I help?’

‘I hope so, Dr Granski. Is Clare about?’

Jo said, ‘No, not at the moment. She’s gone into Gloucester. But she shouldn’t be long.’ She smiled. ‘And Jo will do just fine.’

‘Thank you, Jo. Would you mind if we went into your office? There’s something I need to talk to you about.’

She gestured towards the Portakabin door. ‘Sure, go ahead.’

He said, ‘You might want to take a seat.’

This didn’t sound good. In her experience when cops asked you to sit down it generally only meant one thing. Had something happened to Neil? Was that why he hadn’t turned up to work this morning?

‘I understand that you and Clare know Wayne Crabbs.’

Jo breathed an inward sigh of relief. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe this was about the metal detector finds.

‘Yeah, sure. We know Crabby.’

Stone nodded. ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you, Jo, but Mr Crabbs was found dead this morning.’

Shit, she’d been right the first time. ‘Crabby’s dead? But how?’

‘We think he may have been murdered.’ He looked at Jo. ‘Look, there’s no point beating around the bush. He was definitely murdered. Someone slit his throat.’

For several seconds Jo sat stunned, unable to speak.