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Back Under a Dark Cloud Save as PDF
Chapters (77)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Prologue
  4. Part 1
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. Part 2
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. Part 3
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. Acknowledgements
  74. Next in Series
  75. Canelo Crime
  76. About the Author
  77. Also by Louisa Scarr

It’s dated September 1992. Silently, they both read the details.

Jacob Fraser. Age eleven. Died Wednesday 26 August 1992. Cause of death: cardiac and respiratory failure resulting from a severe anaphylactic reaction. Verdict: accidental.

Freya looks back to Robin. ‘What do you remember about this?’

‘He wasn’t in my year,’ Robin says. ‘I was at secondary school by then. I think he was in his last year at primary. I remember the talk around the village.’

‘Didn’t you and Finn discuss it?’

‘No, we…’ Robin frowns, thinking. Robin was bitter from being forced to miss camp because of his broken leg; he hadn’t wanted to discuss anything. ‘We were boys,’ he replies. ‘Typical males. All we talked about was sport. And science, in Finn’s case.’

Freya picks up the A4 sheet of fuzzy type from the printer. And she articulates what he’s been thinking.

‘If Finn did have something to do with this,’ she says, ‘how?’

32

Freya watches Robin out of the window as he talks on the phone. He paces backwards and forwards on the pavement, his head down, mobile clamped to his ear, trying to get the latest on Finn’s case.

This must be taking its toll on him, she thinks. To come back to the village he grew up in, to be faced with the memories of the family he’s lost. And to be investigating one of his oldest friends for… for what?

She picks up the report again. The coroner didn’t find anything suspicious. A tragedy, yes, but no blame assigned. The Scout leaders did everything right – administered the EpiPen as quickly as they could, called 999 – so if it hadn’t been their fault, why would Finn be to blame? He was there, but so were forty other teenagers.

Robin’s still on the call, clearly talking to someone he doesn’t like; she recognises the downturned mouth, the pinched expression. Robin has never been great at hiding his feelings. No airs. No pretence.

The tiny room is stuffy, the lingering smell of tuna sandwiches unpleasant, so she reaches across and opens the small window in front of her. The fresh breeze is welcome, fluttering the pages of a few books, blowing dust motes into the air.

She can hear the edge of Robin’s conversation now.

‘…and have you found anything on his hard drive?’ A pause. ‘Well, it must have been going somewhere.’ Freya guesses he’s talking to DI Craig and sits back at the microfiche reader.