‘Gloucester. Fuller’s house. That was David on the phone.’ By way of explanation she added, ‘David Barbrook, our boss.’

A cloud of doubt flickered across Stone’s face.

Jo said, ‘He’s got a video of Paul Marshall giving Neil money – Neil’s been taking kickbacks.’

‘Why hasn’t he given the video to the police?’

Jo couldn’t believe Stone was arguing about it. ‘He’s only just found it. Beth Kinsella left it with her father in some nursing home.’

Stone snorted but seemed to accept the explanation. ‘Do you know Fuller’s address?’

‘No, but I’ve been to Neil’s place to pick up site records when we took over the dig. It’s a terraced house.’

She realised how ridiculous that must have sounded almost the moment she’d said it. From what she’d been able to make out there were nothing but terraced houses in Gloucester.

Stone flashed her a sideways glance. ‘Do you think you can remember where it is?’

‘I think so. And I know it was number 46.’

He nodded in the direction of the radio. ‘Can you press that hands-free button for me?’

Jo obliged and he nodded his thanks without taking his eyes from the road. ‘GL43 to Despatch.’

‘Despatch here, sir.’

‘I need the address for a Neil Fuller, Gloucester?’ He whispered across to Jo. ‘What’s his wife’s name?’

‘Sadie.’

He spoke into the ether again. ‘Wife’s name Sadie Fuller. And it’s Priority 1. Repeat, Priority 1.’

‘Roger that, GL43. Address for Neil and Sadie Fuller, Gloucester. Priority 1.’

Stone flung the Volvo round an unfeasibly sharp bend. ‘Call her. Try calling Clare.’

Jo said, ‘David said he’d tried to call her and it had just gone to voicemail.’

‘Well try again. Just do it!’

Jo pulled her mobile out of the pocket of her cargo pants and searched for Jo’s number.

‘You have reached the voicemail of Clare Hills. I can’t take your call right now. But if you’d like to leave your name and number after the beep I’ll get back to you.’

‘Clare, it’s Jo. I don’t know where you are right now but if you’re with Neil, just leave. It doesn’t matter how, just go. Get out of there! Crabby’s dead, Clare. Mark Stone’s just told me. And Neil’ – she could barely bring herself to say the words it was so incomprehensible – ‘I think Neil may have killed him.’

Stone said, ‘Tell her to stay with other people.’

Jo nodded. ‘And, Clare, stay with other people! Then phone me. Please. As soon as you can.’

She ended the call and switched to messaging, her fingers flying across the screen. Clare. CRABBY DEAD. NEIL KILLER. Get out! Go where people are. Phone me when safe. Then after a moment’s thought she typed in the words: We’re coming. J x

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE