The rain was coming down and the fresh grave was liquefying, muddy rivulets running towards Ava’s newly polished boots. She watched as the water spattered the leather, making a mess of the hem of her black trousers. She preferred them that way. Life was neither clean nor neat and tidy. It was a shit show, and Ava didn’t want to keep on pretending anymore.

Bending down, pushing one hand into the mud, she wondered how cold it was below ground, wishing ridiculously that she could tuck a blanket over her friend’s body to keep her warm. Wishing she could hold her one last time.

‘You bastard,’ Ava told Death. ‘How dare you take her from me.’ Death, typically arrogant, didn’t feel compelled to answer. ‘I loved her.’

That was the moment Ava began to feel again, and after that she could feel everything.

Every icy rain drop. Each bite of the whipping wind. The tearing, ripping teeth of grief. The stomach drop of loss. The nausea of understanding the timeline of forever. And worse than anything else, the expanding void of pointlessness.

Ava pushed her hands into her stomach and fought the desire to take to her bed and lay there forever. She cried tears that were bitter with hatred and sweet with memories. She screamed into the howling Edinburgh gale, but even the echo of that noise was taken from her as if she was entitled to nothing. Pressing her upper teeth hard enough into her bottom lip to draw blood, she rejoined the world.

There was work to be done, and work would save her. She could bury her grief in custody records and forensics reports, cold cases and door-to-door enquiries. Back at the station, she could encase herself in the Major Investigation Team, hide behind a facade where other officers addressed her as ma’am and didn’t ask about her private life. Ava knew that without the life raft of distraction, she would pack a bag, pick up her passport, and simply leave. She still might. But not yet.

For now, there was a case to be solved, evidence to be gathered. A trail to excavate and then follow. Ava swallowed her heartache. It stuck in her throat for a moment, trying to choke her, but she was stronger.

‘You didn’t win,’ she told Death quietly. The anger was gone from her voice. Only a reedy sadness remained. ‘You’ll never really take her from me. I know she’s still here.’

She packed up her sorrow, tucked it away where no one could stare at it, and began the long walk back to those awaiting her leadership.

Chapter 2

Edinburgh City Mortuary was a vacuum of silence. Multiple officers from her team had already viewed the footage Ava was there to see and she’d read their reports, but she still needed to watch it herself.