A Dark Sin: Hidden Norfolk - Book 8

by Dalgliesh, J M

  A Dark Sin

  Hidden Norfolk - Book 8

  J M Dalgliesh

  Contents

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  A Dark Sin

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

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  In the Hidden Norfolk Series

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  First published by Hamilton Press in 2021

  Copyright © J M Dalgliesh, 2021

  The right of J M Dalgliesh to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a purely fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  A Dark Sin

  Prologue

  Passing the larger of the two car parks, preferring the shelter from the surrounding copse, he drove the car further down the hill, slowing to make the turn. The excited snuffling from behind the cargo net meant Bodie knew they’d arrived. He glanced in the rear-view mirror.

  "That's right, boy, we're nearly there."

  There were no other cars present. In the summer there would be several. He wasn't the only local to get out for an early-morning walk before the rest of the county came out to go about their daily business. The cold was keeping them home now, he was certain. The larger car park he'd just driven by had a solitary vehicle in it; not one he recognised but it was still dark, still early. Switching off the engine triggered the interior lights to burst into life, the signal for his dog to make himself ready to leap from the car. Bodie let out an excited bark.

  "All right, all right. I'm coming."

  Cracking open the door let in a blast of freezing air and the warmth of the heated seat and steering wheel would, no doubt, soon become a distant memory. The protection from the wind offered by the trees, even though not in leaf, was still of benefit. Perhaps the path around the woods would be more pleasant than braving the open ground of the common up to the high point overlooking Grimston Warren Reserve. Zipping up his coat, he waggled a foot beneath the rear bumper and the electrically operated tail lift raised the boot lid. Bodie immediately made to leap from the car but his owner was ready, as always, grasping the dog's collar firmly and reaching up to clip the lead in place.

  The dog hustled past and jumped to the ground, nosing the earth and taking in the fresh smells that accompanied a heavy frost. The mud of the car park was churned up by visiting vehicles but had subsequently frozen. The winters here could be harsh and none more so in living memory than this one. Several crows cawed to one another from the nearby trees as the inky darkness of the night sky slowly shifted towards a slate grey as dawn approached.

  They set off through the gate and on into the woods beyond, Bodie pulling as they went; keen to get moving. Once in the sanctuary of the woods and within the fenced reserve, safely away from the road, he pulled the dog back, making him sit down before releasing the lead. Dogs were supposed to be kept under control but he often chose to ignore that rule if there was hardly anyone else around. One of the car parks here was well known as a location for some rather salacious night-time activities that the police didn't seem to bother trying to stamp out, so why shouldn't Bodie be allowed to run free?

  The dog took off along the path ahead, tail in the air and nose to the ground. He wouldn't go too far. The trees were thinning as he approached the access to the open ground of the common, the bracing freshness of the crisp breeze gathering pace against his cheeks. They felt numb and his head was cold. Only now did he realise he wasn't wearing his woolly hat. Glancing back through the trees towards the car park, he considered nipping back for it, envisaging it on the passenger seat where he'd left it to be warmed by the heated seat. It never worked but he still tried it most days. Maybe there needed to be weight applied on top. There's a thought. He'd try that tomorrow.

  "Bodie!"

  He waited. The dog didn't appear. He whistled. Still there was no reply. Muttering under his breath he carried on, quickening his pace. Who knew what the dog would be up to if he left him to his own devices and went back to the car? He was irritated to find the gate out of the woods was unlatched.

  "Bodie! Here, boy!"

  An excited bark carried to him from a distance. He recognised it. Bodie must be halfway across the common. Hopefully, he hadn't come across anyone of a nervous sensibility. Most dog owners, the only people daft enough to be out here at this time in sub-zero temperatures, would be okay with Bodie; but there were others who turned their noses up at a large golden retriever charging across the field towards them, particularly if they had one of those miniature dogs who were often a little skittish in the presence of a larger cousin.

  Clearing the woods, a gentle hum of early-morning traffic from the distant Queen Elizabeth Way broke the silence and he scanned the gently undulating common for an overexcited hound, seeing him a few hundred metres away bounding back and forth, barking at something. With no one else in sight, the second car park sky-lined off to his right was now visible and looked empty from this distance but, admittedly, his eyes weren't what they used to be. Bodie must have chased down a rabbit or forced a squirrel back into one of the two trees standing proudly and isolated in the centre of the reserve.

  "Bodie!"

  His shout was one born of a forlorn hope. If the animal hadn't returned after the first round of calls, he wouldn't do so now. In fact, the dog didn't even look back at him which he would usually do, just before ignoring the call once again. Instead, the barking continued. He hurried across the field, taking care to avoid the cow pats deposited in random places among the wild grass. A sheen of frost disguised them from the human eye in the diffused early-morn
ing light, and the cold masked the smell, but the contents beneath the surface were just as unpleasant. It was okay if wearing wellies, as he was, but it was still a pain to deal with before getting back into the car.

  Bodie must have sensed him getting nearer because the barking was growing in intensity, almost continuous now, as he approached, carefully picking his route across the uneven surface. Upon reaching the dog, panting heavily with its tongue lolling to one side as a result of his noisy efforts, he quickly reattached the lead before the dog saw fit to take off again. The dog nuzzled his hand and barked once more. He ruffled the top of the dog's head with his free hand. Bodie whimpered.

  "What is it, boy? What's all the fuss?"

  Looking to his left, his mouth fell open. Shielded from view on his approach, he hadn't seen it. He hadn't seen him. The breeze felt colder now, biting. A nearby collection of saplings were fenced off to protect their growth, and he decided to tie Bodie to one of the posts, almost tripping over the creature as he stepped forward. Cursing, he gathered himself, hurrying the two of them over to the nearest post, securing the dog in place and returning to the trees.

  The body swayed gently in the breeze, the ageing branch it was hanging from occasionally creaking under the strain. The teenager's facial expression could easily be judged as one befitting that of a deep sleep if not for the tinge of black to his lips and the noose around his neck, forcing his head to rest offset at an awkward angle. The discolouration of the boy's skin disturbed him as he came to stand beneath the child. Not only was he understandably very pale, but his skin was blotchy with a green or bluish hue to it; in this light he wasn't sure which. Tentatively removing his glove, he reached up, slowly placing the palm of his hand on the boy's right leg. The body felt frozen, the skin stiff and rubbery to the touch. He had been dead for hours. The dog whimpered again but he didn't react. He couldn't take his eyes off the boy; what was he, fourteen, fifteen at a push, maybe?

  Easing his hand away, he slowly backed off whilst rummaging in his coat pocket for his mobile phone.

  What a waste of a young life.

  Chapter One

  "The trick is," Tom Janssen said, leaning forward and carefully guiding the skewer to roughly a hand span above the flame curling up from the nearest log, "to make sure you keep the marshmallow close enough to toast but not so close that it catches fire."

  Saffy, the eight-year-old daughter of his partner, Alice, focussed hard on the task in hand. Tom gently released his grip, giving her full control and watched on as Saffy's eyes darted briefly to her mother, a smile forming at the corners of her mouth as she slowly turned the skewer in her gloved hands. Their little terrier, Russell, sat patiently next to Saffy, his eyes fixed on the marshmallow, tracking its path with an unblinking stare. The evening was still, crystal clear and despite the orange glow of the fire, the heavens were glittering above them. Tamara Greave's house was some distance from the nearest town, surrounded by a small, but established, woodland and very private.

  Alice reached a hand out to Tom, smiling and slipping it through his arm and leaning into him. Saffy had talked about little else for three days now, such was her excitement at the gathering. The scene was as exciting as it got for an enthusiastic, outgoing child such as her. Not only was she attending an adult party, outdoors under the stars, but she also got a fire pit and the opportunity to toast marshmallows – an activity that seemed to be a childhood rite of passage in much of her social media and coming of age children’s television films. Up until tonight, Tom was certain Saffy had never seen a toasted marshmallow, let alone eaten one.

  "Am I doing it right?" Saffy asked without shifting her gaze.

  "You're doing it perfectly," Alice said. Saffy grinned. Dressed in a thick coat and her favoured artificial fur-lined wellington boots, with unicorn adornments, and a woolly hat knitted by her grandmother; a red, yellow and green offering with two tassels that hung from the front and back, Saffy didn't flinch at the cold. Tom saw Becca, DC Eric Collet's fiancée, wasn't faring as well. Tamara noticed Becca's discomfort as well, tapping Eric on the forearm and gesturing back to the house.

  "There's a throw on the sofa in the front room that could double up as a blanket."

  Becca smiled warmly and Eric set off back to the house just as one of the logs in the cast-iron pit crackled and spat as an air pocket ignited. It didn't bother Saffy, still slowly turning her charge.

  "When Eric gets back, we should raise a glass to him," Tamara said, looking around at those present. "Everyone have drinks? I'm empty, so I'm going to get another bottle anyway."

  Cassie Knight, the detective sergeant of the group, checked the bottle of beer in her hand with the light from the fire. It was half full. Her partner, Lauren, did the same, indicating she was okay. Alice's glass was empty.

  "I'll go," Tom said, unhooking himself from Alice's arm and first of all gently easing Saffy's arm up a little and moving the marshmallow away from the flame, before heaving himself out of his camping chair.

  "Just inside the kitchen on the left," Tamara told him.

  As soon as he stepped away from the fire, he felt the true chill of the winter evening. Even by Norfolk's usual standards, where winters could be brutal affairs, this year was proving worse than normal. The geography of the north Norfolk coast with the lack of any mountainous terrain to unsettle the weather ensured they seldom experienced dramatic snowfall, but the expanse of low-lying open land in proximity to the North Sea made sure the nights were exceptionally cold. They were fortunate there was only a gentle westerly breeze tonight. It was the perfect conditions for their celebration.

  The hinges of the back door creaked as Tom entered the kitchen meeting Eric returning with the fleece blanket for Becca. Tom saw several bottles exactly where Tamara told him they would be and he set about choosing one.

  "How are you feeling about tomorrow?"

  "I'm looking forward to it," Eric said, folding the blanket over his forearm again to make it less likely to catch on anything as he moved through the house. "It'll be nice to get back to normal, you know?"

  Tom smiled and nodded, then selected a bottle and looked around for the corkscrew. "And what about Becca?" In the corner of his eye, he saw Eric shrug. "That good, huh?"

  Eric sighed, leaning his back against the worktop and frowning. "She knows it's what I do … but …"

  "She's worried?"

  Eric nodded.

  "You can't blame her," Tom said. Eric shook his head emphatically agreeing with the sentiment. "We all thought we were going to lose you for a while."

  "Yeah, I know," Eric said glumly. "I think she's got used to me being home when she finishes work and, when all is said and done, I think she'd prefer it if I worked in a book shop or something."

  Tom laughed. "Repeatedly the number one answer given when surveyed as to your perfect choice of profession."

  "Is it?"

  "Apparently so, yes. I don't think there are enough shops to go around though."

  "There're certainly enough criminals to keep us busy though, aren't there?" Eric said with a wry grin.

  "Not at the moment," Tom said. "You've picked a good time to come back, ease you in gently."

  A knock at the door interrupted the conversation. Tom indicated he'd get it and Eric manoeuvred his way through the kitchen and back outside, careful not to swipe anything off the work surfaces as he passed. Tom sympathised with Becca's plight. It was four months since Eric was last on duty, and it'd been a long road back to fitness, both physically and mentally, for someone who had been in incredible shape. What the long-term impact of the ordeal would mean to Eric, and the couple, remained to be seen.

  Opening the front door, Tom was met by a woman with a broad grin on her face which quickly subsided as she looked him up and down; an excited smile switching to apparent shock in an instant.

  "Well don't tell me she's moved someone in already without bothering to mention it."

  Tom was at a loss, standing open mouthed. He quic
kly cast an eye over the woman, wondering whether she'd called at the right house. He was certain they'd never met but at the same time she looked familiar in some way. She was in her seventies, well presented with fastidiously applied make-up and sculpted hair, not over the top but stylish with attention to care and detail. She had two matching suitcases at her feet and looking past her towards the end of the drive, Tom saw a taxi pulling out on to the main road.

  "Are you going to invite me in?" the woman asked.

  "I–I guess… sorry, who are you?"

  "Francesca Greave," she said and the penny dropped for Tom just as he was forced to step aside to make room for her to pass. "Bring my cases in would you, young man? There's a nice chap."

  Tom did as he was asked, hefting both into the hall. Francesca had already removed her coat and was looking for a spare hook to hang it on.

  "You might want to keep that on," Tom said. She met his eye with a quizzical look. "The coat. We're outside in the back garden."

  She looked around, slipping her right arm through the first sleeve. "And you are?"