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Back Under a Dark Cloud
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

Freya’s attention is diverted back to the graveside, as the vicar concludes his eulogy. The coffin is lowered into the ground. With a final solemn nod, it’s over, and the crowd starts to disperse.

‘I’m going to head off,’ Robin says. ‘I’ll see you at the station later?’

‘Sure,’ Freya agrees. She reaches up and straightens his tie, come loose in his characteristically scruffy manner. ‘Have you got a present?’

‘Of course, who do you think I am?’ Robin says with a smile.

He heads off with his usual slow lope, and Freya watches him go. They’ve been working together again over these past couple of weeks, and it’s been nice. Back to their usual routine: two coffees in the morning, each taking it in turns to buy for the other. They’ve been on a sexual assault case, and despite the grim nature of the investigation, she’s been enjoying herself.

In the brief lulls at work, she catches Robin watching her, his quiet concern for her warming. She’s even spent a Saturday with him, paintbrush in hand, helping to sort out the mess he’d made of his living room.

It was a strange day. Robin in tracksuit bottoms and an old Foo Fighters T-shirt. Music playing on the radio, the windows open, a cool breeze blowing through. Despite him being her boss, she felt relaxed around him, taking the piss out of his singing, pulling him up on his frankly horrible efforts at painting. At the end of the day, he offered to cook dinner, but she refused. Somehow it felt wrong. Too intimate. More like a date. And that wasn’t what this was.

It wasn’t.

Josh, on the other hand… He’s on the opposite side of the graveyard, talking to Thorpe’s sister. He’s looking nice today, dressed in a black suit and tie, a white shirt underneath. It flatters his dark hair and brings out the blue in his eyes.

Mina is standing next to her, watching her with a barely disguised smirk.

‘What?’ Freya says.

‘I can tell you want to.’

‘Shut up, Mina.’

‘What’s stopping you?’

‘I… I don’t know,’ Freya replies, and she realises she really doesn’t. Jonathan’s death doesn’t loom so large nowadays.