by David Blake
EPILOGUE
Thursday, 2nd September
TANNER STOOD ON the boggy edge of Breydon Water, the Wellington boots he was wearing planted firmly on the surrounding marsh. Taking a peaceful moment to stare out to where he could see Great Yarmouth, shimmering in the heat of a steadily rising sun, his head continued up to a pristine blue sky marred only by a handful of solitary clouds, each one drifting effortlessly out towards the North Sea beyond.
Drinking in the crystal clean air purified by the recent storm, his attention returned to why he’d been called out there; the remains of a body discovered earlier that day by an elderly couple out for their daily walk.
‘What’ve we got?’ he called down to Dr Johnstone, knee deep in mud, his shoulders hunched over what remained of a rotting corpse.
‘A white female. At a guess I’d say she was somewhere between the age of fifteen and thirty.’
‘Any idea how long she’s been there for?’ Tanner continued, his attention momentarily distracted by what looked to be a police patrol boat, chugging its way over the sparkling water towards them.
Johnstone batted a fly away with the back of his hand. ‘Stuck out here, I’ve got no idea, but I reckon she’s been dead for at least two weeks – maybe three.’
‘I don’t suppose there’s anything in the form of identification?’
The medical examiner cast his eyes back over the body. ‘Well, she doesn’t seem to have her handbag with her, if that’s what you mean.’
‘I was thinking more along the lines of distinguishing marks,’ Tanner replied, rolling his eyes.
‘Oh, OK. There would appear to be a tattoo; if that helps.’
‘Can you describe it?’
Johnstone tilted his head, his eyes still fixed on the body. ‘It would probably be better if you took a look for yourself.’
Tanner stared at the fly-infested mud that the body was half-protruding out of before casting his eyes down at the suit trousers he was wearing, the ones he’d only recently picked up from the dry-cleaners. ‘How about emailing me a photograph?’
Johnstone turned his head to narrow his eyes up at him.
‘Alright, hold on,’ Tanner moaned, taking a few cautious steps down the marshy bank before beginning to squelch his way over the thick black mud.
Reaching the body, he carefully eased himself down onto his haunches.
‘I’d say it looks like a butterfly,’ Johnstone continued, gesturing down at what was left of the girl’s arm.
‘Er, it is a butterfly,’ stated Tanner, ‘something I’d have thought would have been remarkably easy to describe.’
‘It could be a moth,’ Johnstone commented, suppressing a smirk.
The call of a familiar woman’s voice drifting lazily towards them through the light summer’s air had them both glancing up.
‘I heard another body had been found?’
Tanner pushed himself up to wave over at the welcoming sight of Christine, peering out from the side of what had turned out to be a Broads Ranger’s patrol boat.
‘I thought you were the police,’ he called back in response.
‘Why? Have you done something wrong?’
Tanner smiled. The last time they’d been anywhere near each other was three days before, when Iain Sanders had ploughed his boat straight into Vauxhall Bridge. Seeing her there now made him realise how much he’d missed her.
‘I don’t suppose you’d know if it would be possible for someone to have been washed up here from the sea?’
He waited a moment for her to turn off the engine.
‘I’m not sure that’s very likely,’ she eventually replied, her patrol boat beginning to drift slowly away in the water’s strong ebbing tide.
‘What about during the storm?’ Tanner continued, forced to tug his feet out of the mud to begin traipsing his way after her.
‘That would make it more likely,’ Christine continued, pulling a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. ‘Is it the missing girl? The one seen being dumped over the side of that boat?’
‘Probably. At least the tattoo would appear to be the same.’
The conversation stalled as Tanner did his best to keep up with the increasing speed of the patrol boat.
‘Listen, Christine, how about that meal I’ve been promising you?’
‘Sorry, what was that?’ she cried, cupping a hand around one of her ears.
‘That meal I’ve been promising you?’ he repeated, lifting his voice. ‘How about it?’
‘When were you thinking?’
‘What about tonight?’
He could almost see her weighing up his proposal.
‘Are you sure you don’t have anything else on?’
‘I promise. Look, I’ll even turn my phone off,’ he continued, wrenching it out to hold in the air.
Forced to give up trying to keep up with the boat that was been carried ever further away, he stood with his boots sinking slowly into the water-logged mud, waiting in anxious silence.
‘Can you pick me up at eight?’ came her eventual reply.
A broad grin spread out over Tanner’s face. ‘No problem. Any idea where you want to go?’ he added, almost as an afterthought.
‘As long as we actually make it there this time, I’m not all that sure I care.’
DI JOHN TANNER WILL RETURN IN LONG GORE HALL
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getbook.at/LongGoreHall
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A LETTER FROM DAVID
Dear Reader,
I just wanted to say a huge thank you for deciding to read Storm Force. If you enjoyed it, I’d be really grateful if you could leave a review on Amazon, or mention it to your friends and family. Word-of-mouth recommendations are just so important to an author’s success, and doing so will help new readers discover my work.
It would be great to hear from you as well, either on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads or via my website. There are plenty more books to come, so I sincerely hope you’ll be able to join me for what I promise will continue to be an exciting adventure!
All the very best,
David
www.David-Blake.com
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
David Blake is an international best-selling author who lives in North London. At time of going to print he has written nineteen books, along with a collection of short stories. When not writing, David likes to spend his time mucking about in boats, often in the Norfolk Broads, where his crime fiction books are based.