“Line your men up,” said Inspector James. We’ll do a march across the area as far as the Featherstone Street ditch, see if we can find anything. The bush is pretty dense after that…”
He walked with Frank behind the men as they struggled through the bush, stepping over hillocks and fallen branches.
They reached the turning point of the ditch and started to wheel around. As they did, the man on the left flank stopped and yelled something. The others began to mill round, all rules forgotten.
“They didn’t last as long as I expected,” Frank said to the Inspector. “I wonder what the problem is?” He caught up with his men and pushed his way through to the centre.
“What’s going on? Why have you stopped?”
The ginger-haired bank clerk stepped forward. “We found a pony trap, sir. And a pony as well. Down there.” Beside him a deep ditch cut through the bush along Featherstone Street, hidden from view by a stand of flax.
Frank pushed to the front of the volunteers. In the ditch, looking unfazed by her situation, his own grey pony grazed quietly, still hitched to her trap. “Miss Lucy?” he said, puzzled. “How…?” He slid down the side of the ditch, taking a small landslide of dirt with him. What was his pony trap doing, stuck in this ditch? Who had left it here?”
The two constables followed him down. One of them made his way to the other side of the trap and stopped, staring at the ground. “Inspector James, sir. You’d better get down here. There’s a body…and a lot of blood…”
Frank’s gut dropped. A body? Who was it? He gripped the side of the trap to stop his legs giving way. God, please no…“Mette?”
Recalled to Life Page 22