‘It’s just a routine question as part of our ongoing investigation,’ said Carys. ‘Do you?’
‘No. Never seen the point of them, unless I’m going on holiday. Mind you, haven’t had one of those for three years, either.’
‘The neighbouring farms that abut your land – what do they farm?’ she said.
‘Down here on this edge of my boundary are the Ditchens family,’ he said. ‘They have an orchard – lots of different fruit crops. Been around for a couple of centuries. Off to this end here, nearest the road, they have a couple of strawberry fields. On the other side of my property are Adrian and Helen Peverell. They’re farming rabbits for commercial purposes – you know, pet food and the like.’ He scowled. ‘Never been a fan of battery farming myself but they switched from barley and wheat to the rabbits about ten years ago and have been going great guns. I think they sold some of the unused land to the Ditchens, come to think of it.’
‘Do either of those families own an aircraft?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘Going back to the week before the body was found in the field,’ said Carys. ‘Have you heard any light aircraft overhead at night, or anything else that has seemed unusual to you?’
‘Honestly, detective – no. The minute the bedside light goes out, I’m asleep until the alarm goes off at five. Liz reckons an earthquake wouldn’t wake me.’
‘Do you socialise much with your neighbours?’ said Gavin.
‘I see them at local events from time to time,’ said Maitland, ‘and we sometimes borrow equipment from each other if we need to. The problem is, we’re all so busy running the day-to-day stuff, we don’t get a lot of time to socialise. Speaking of which, if you haven’t got any more questions, I need to finish these wages before three o’clock so I can transfer the money online.’
Carys tucked her notebook into her bag. ‘No, no more questions. Thanks for your time, Dennis. If you do hear anything about someone using that track, could you give us a call?’
‘Will do.’
Chapter Nineteen
Kay tapped the volume control on the steering wheel as the traffic ground to a halt on the Ashford Road and eyed the silver hatchback that executed an eight-point turn in the driveway of the Turkey Mill archway before shooting past her in the opposite direction.
She wondered how many other drivers would be tempted to do the same and try to find another route into the town centre.
After checking the clock on the dashboard, she cringed as a motorcyclist risked life and limb to weave between the stationary vehicles on a dilapidated scooter that probably wouldn’t pass its next MOT test, and wondered if she should phone Sharp to ask him to run the briefing that morning.
She had another forty minutes before she was due in the incident room, and crossed her fingers as the queue of cars surged forward.
Earlier that morning, a knock on her front door had thrown her morning routine into disarray as the woman from the wildlife refuge delivered four fox cubs into Adam’s care and hurried away to get her children to school on time.
Leaving the house ten minutes later than her normal time wreaked havoc on Kay’s commute, but Adam was struggling to feed the four hungry foxes on his own, and she had taken pity on him, holding each cub as he’d administered the next specialised portion of food.
She smiled. If she were honest, she enjoyed the opportunity to share some time with him and the latest temporary additions to their household – after all, it wasn’t everyone who could say they had a litter of fox cubs in their kitchen.
At some point, she would have to invite Carys around to meet them before they were moved back to the wildlife rehabilitation centre and released, otherwise her detective constable would never forgive her.
As she eased her foot off the brake, the car picked up speed as the traffic eased, and she exhaled as the road curved past the carriage museum and Archbishop’s Palace.
She had fifteen minutes to spare, which gave her enough time to check through any correspondence, new leads and reports Debbie would have processed out of HOLMES2 and left on her desk before the shift began in earnest.
As she turned the car into the asphalt driveway next to the brick-clad police station, she leaned out of the window and swiped her security card and slowly drove forward to avoid four uniformed police constables who ran out of the side door and over to their cars.
She frowned as she drew closer to a spare parking space, recognising Carys’s figure huddled beside her own car, a worried expression etched across her fair skin as the two patrol vehicles launched past the barrier, sirens blaring.
The woman lifted her chin at Kay’s arrival, then hovered near the bonnet as she reverse parked and snatched up her handbag from the passenger seat.
‘Morning, Carys,’ she said, locking the door. ‘Everything all right?’
‘Could I have a word, guv? Before you go inside?’ She held up a takeout cup. ‘I got you a coffee.’
‘Thanks.’ Kay raised her eyebrow. ‘What’s going on?’
Carys moved until she was closer to Kay before her shoulders sagged. She turned her own cup between her hands. ‘I’m sorry, guv. There’s no easy way to tell you this, and it’s been going around in my head since I got the call on Friday because I know how much you’ve got on at the moment, and what with this investigation and all––’
Kay took a sip of coffee and peered over the rim of the takeout cup at her.
The detective constable’s nervousness was palpable; an energy that emanated from her as she shuffled her feet and cast her gaze to the pitted surface of the car park.
Lowering the cup, Kay tilted her head to one side. ‘Carys? Whatever is the matter?’
Carys swallowed, then cleared her throat. ‘I don’t know how to say this, guv but I’ve been offered an interview.’
‘Interview? What for?’
‘A promotion. Detective sergeant.’
‘Oh. I didn’t know there were any openings available in West Division. I––’ Kay’s heart skipped a beat as her world shifted, an inexplicable feeling that what happened in the next few moments would have a monumental impact on both of their futures. She bit her lip as the full implication of what Carys was telling her struck her in the solar plexus. ‘Where?’
‘Glamorgan, guv. Cardiff.’
‘Wales?’ Kay blinked. ‘That’s miles away.’
‘I know, right?’ Carys managed a sad smile.
‘Bloody hell.’
‘I-I just didn’t want you to find out through hearsay, not after everything you’ve done for me. You’ve been so good to me, giving me a chance and everything over the years.’
‘Morning, guv!’
Kay glanced up at a shout from across the car park and held up her coffee cup in greeting to Phillip Parker, who was heading towards the entrance with Debbie, and then turned back to Carys. ‘Does anyone else know?’
‘No. I wanted to tell you first.’
‘When’s the interview?’
‘Friday. I’ve got to go up Thursday night though, because it’s at ten o’clock in the morning in Bridgend. I’ll never make it if I try to leave early, and––’
‘No, that’s fine. I’ll speak to Barnes. We’ll work it out. Wow. Cardiff, eh?’ Kay smiled, shock turning to pride as she placed her hand on Carys’s arm and began to steer her towards the station. ‘Do they know what they’re letting themselves in for?’
Carys smiled, her shoulders relaxing. ‘I was worried, guv. I didn’t know what you were going to say. I thought you’d be angry with me.’
‘Angry with you? No – not at all. It’s just a shock, that’s all.’ She paused at the door, wrapping her fingers around the handle before looking across at her colleague. ‘You do realise if they interview you, you’re going to beat the competition? Seriously, you’ve got what it takes. Are you sure this is what you want?’
‘I want to be a detective sergeant, guv. I’m ready. And let’s face it, with the budget cuts around here
lately, I’m not going to get another chance at a promotion around here any time soon, am I?’ Carys brightened a little. ‘At least I’ll be able to afford my own place in Wales. I could get a cat.’
Kay nodded, unable to voice an argument to the woman’s observations, and tugged open the door.
‘I’m going to bloody miss you.’
Chapter Twenty
Kay reached out blindly for her desk phone as it began to ring, and thumbed through a report she had meant to read four days ago in relation to personnel limitations on West Division, her thoughts tumbling over the conversation she’d had with Carys.
The briefing had passed in a blur of loud conversations and paperwork, together with a sense of dread that a change in personnel with no likely replacement to match the detective constable’s skillset would have a ripple effect through the team.
‘Detective Inspector Kay Hunter.’
‘Detective? It’s Oliver Townsend. We met on Sunday.’
‘Good morning, Mr Townsend. What can I do for you?’
‘Actually, it’s about what I might be able to do for you. I had a chat with Brian last night – he’s the bloke who used to run the veterans’ group over here in Riverhead that I told you about.’
Kay pushed the report aside and reached for her notebook. ‘That was quick, thanks. Was he able to help?’
‘He wasn’t, but one of the regulars overheard me talking to him and might have some information to help you. The thing is, I thought it might be best if you spoke to him in person, so I wondered if now was a good time?’
‘I’ve got a meeting at two o’clock this afternoon, but if I leave now––’
‘No need,’ said Townsend. ‘Stephen had to come into Maidstone for something or other anyway and I gave him a lift, so we’re here. We were going to get a coffee and wondered if you might want to join us. Saves you the trip.’
‘That’s brilliant, thanks. Where are you?’
‘We’re eyeing up that café just around the corner from all the banks on the High Street. It’s not too crowded by the look of it.’
‘Perfect – I’ll be there in five minutes.’
She ended the call, plucked her coat off the hook next to Sharp’s office and hurried down the stairs to the reception desk.
‘Hughes, if anyone wants me I’m popping out for an hour. Call me if anything urgent comes through.’
The desk sergeant raised a hand in acknowledgement, and she flew out of the door.
Risking life and limb to zig-zag between the traffic that poured along Palace Avenue, Kay reached the café on time and spotted Oliver Townsend sitting at a table laid for four at the back, facing the room.
He rose as she approached, shook her hand and gestured to the man beside him.
‘Detective Hunter, this is Stephen Halsmith. As I said on the phone, he might be able to help you.’
Kay raised her chin as the man pushed back his chair.
He was several inches taller than her, his forearms emblazoned with fading tattoos and a four-inch scar over the back of his right hand. His grip was firm and his gaze steady. Like Oliver, he wore his hair longer than he would have done in the armed forces, and his physique was a slender build rather than one of muscle and brawn.
‘Detective Hunter.’
Halsmith spoke with a soft Northumbrian accent seasoned with a smoker’s growl.
‘Thanks for asking me to come along,’ she said. She ordered a coffee from the waitress and then folded her hands on the table. ‘I presume Oliver’s filled you in about my investigation?’
‘He has,’ said Halsmith. ‘I don’t know if what I can tell you will help, but I figured I should give it a go. You never know, right?’
‘Right. What did you do in the army?’
‘Infantry. Served two tours in the Balkans, one in Kosovo, and one in the first Gulf War.’ His gaze drifted to the window over her shoulder. ‘Saw too many friends killed, and the others – well, let’s just say their health was never the same afterwards.’
‘What do you do these days?’
‘Crosswords, and competition archery.’ He smiled. ‘And I look after my grandkids during the week while my daughter and her husband are at work.’
‘Doesn’t sound too bad.’
‘They’re both a handful, but yes – I love it.’
Kay thanked the waitress who appeared with her coffee, then turned back to the two men as a couple of pensioners sat a couple of tables to their right. ‘All right. What’ve you got for me?’
Halsmith scratched his short beard, then wrapped his hands around his tea mug and lowered his voice. ‘Olly showed me the photograph of the tattoo after I overheard him talking to Brian. I’d never seen it before, but I’d heard things. Back in the old Kosovan days.’
‘Like what?’
‘Something to do with a six-man patrol who went AWOL and rescued some women and children.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know – sometimes you hear stories like that and there’s a whiff of bullshit about it. Urban myth, that sort of thing. But this one gathered momentum for a while before it died out. I’d heard the men all got shipped back home and discharged. I forgot about it for a few years, until I got into a bit of trouble.’
‘Trouble?’
He held her gaze. ‘Drugs. Not much. But I was stupid. I should’ve just tried to talk to someone. Luckily, my missus found out about Brian’s support group and dragged me along to it. I haven’t looked back since.’
‘How long ago was that?’
‘About ten years now. These days I go along to help out, listen to the younger ones. We’ve all been there, so it’s good to do something to support others in a similar situation. Anyway, one day – must be five years ago – a bloke turns up at one of the Monday night meetings. It was obvious he’d been sleeping rough. Brian’s good with the new folk, so he sorted him out with some fresh clothes, a shower kit, things like that. The place we meet at hosts a cricket club and has changing rooms so he was able to have a wash and stuff while he was there.’
‘Any idea where he’d been staying?’
‘Wild camping, I reckon. There are a lot who do it – it’s safer these days, and was back then as well. I’d never seen him around town before that, not in Sevenoaks or Tonbridge anyway. No point going to the smaller places – you won’t make enough money begging.’
‘Did you see the tattoo?’
‘No, never. I just thought of him when I heard Olly talking and put two and two together. I never asked him what he did in Kosovo, but I latched on to the fact he’d been there from some of the comments he made. He sort of opened up more towards me after that, knowing I’d probably seen some of the things he had.’
‘How did you figure out he was one of the six men?’
‘He mentioned he’d helped to rescue some refugees back in ninety-nine. Given the location where he’d been based and the fact he admitted he was sleeping rough because he had no army pension, I put two and two together. I was in awe of him, to be honest. Hell of a thing to do.’
‘Can you remember his name?’
‘Yes. Ethan Archer. He must’ve been in his early forties when I last saw him.’
Kay rummaged in her bag and pulled out the composite sketch. ‘Is this him?’
‘Yeah, that’s him I reckon.’
‘When did you last see Ethan?’
Halsmith drained his tea, glanced at Townsend, then back to Kay. ‘Well, that’s the thing, see. That’s what I was telling Olly. I haven’t seen Ethan for going on three or four years.’
‘What do you mean? What happened to him?’
‘Nobody knows. One day, he left the group and we never saw him again.’
‘Did you check with any other contacts you had?’
‘Yes, and I asked around for a while but it’s like he disappeared into thin air. No-one knows anything.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Pushing open the door into the incident room, Kay stuck her fingers between her lips and whistle
d.
After apologising to the police constable at the desk nearest to her who jumped in his seat at the sudden interruption, she raised her voice.
‘Everyone, briefing now please. We’ve got a breakthrough regarding the identity of our victim.’
She clapped her hand on Barnes’s shoulder as she passed his desk. ‘I’ll need your help coordinating all this. Are you able to delegate some of your other casework elsewhere?’
‘I can try,’ he said. ‘Another detective over at Headquarters owes me a favour for that burglary job the other month.’
‘Do your best. Is Sharp in?’
‘Yes.’
‘Could you let him know he might want to join us? I think he’ll be interested to hear this.’
‘Will do.’
Sidestepping one of the administrative staff who nearly collided with her, his arms laden with reports, Kay crossed the room to the whiteboard and wheeled it closer to the back wall onto which a long cork board had been fixed.
Their victim’s photograph was the first item to be pinned to it, and, as the team found seats and settled, she began to create a spider web of known facts to date. When she turned, a sea of faces stared back at her with eager expressions.
Sharp leaned against the photocopier, his gaze glued to the board.
Kay cleared her throat. ‘Thanks, everyone. If there’s anyone missing, anyone out following up leads, can someone make sure this information is passed on as soon as the briefing is finished?’
Debbie West raised her hand. ‘I’ll take care of that, guv.’
‘Thanks. I’ve received confirmation in the past hour that our victim is Ethan Archer. He was known to attend a veterans’ support group at Riverhead until three or four years ago, at which point he disappeared. Prior to that, he’d been in the British Army and served in Kosovo. One of the support group members, Stephen Halsmith, recalls that when Ethan first turned up at the group, he’d been sleeping rough – Halsmith thinks he’d been wild camping based on some of the comments Ethan made to him over the time he attended the group.’
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