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glanced over at the speedometer and found himself agreeing and reaching up for the handle above the door at the same time. What was it, he thought, with people in the dales driving like complete nutters?

He saw the orange flickering light in the darkness first, as Liz hammered along the main road, then the house came into view through the trees. Harry was relieved to see that neither it nor the cottage beside it, were on fire. And yet tongues of flame were licking at the darkness at the back of the main house, thick plumes of grey smoke chucking themselves high into the sky.

‘So, what’s actually on fire, then?’ Liz asked, slowing down to turn off the main road.

As they bounced up the lane to the rear of the house, Harry saw that the Fire Service had already arrived and were dealing with the fire, which he could now see was coming from the rather expensive cabin James Fletcher had laughingly referred to as a shed. As Liz parked up, Harry heard sirens, then saw more emergency lights as an ambulance tore its way up the lane.

Outside the car, Harry had Liz head over to liaise with the other two emergency services, while he turned himself towards the house and the small gathering of people huddled together at the back door. The roar of the fire was a terrifying thing, Harry thought, snatching a look at the flames, the heat of it forcing him to turn his walk into a quick jog.

At the house, where the heat was just about bearable, he saw the family was standing together and staring at the flames. Patricia was standing in front of her husband, Dan, and Ruth was huddled up close to her son, Anthony. But where was James?

‘Mrs Hurst,’ Harry said, realising that as yet none of them had noticed his approach.

When Patricia turned to face him, Harry saw a face riven with horror, eyes ringed black from tears and lack of sleep. The other three faces turned and none of them looked any better, Harry thought, which was when the hunch kicked in again, and he knew that here, right now, something was very, very, wrong indeed.

‘It’s Dad,’ Patricia said. ‘He’s . . . Oh, God . . .’

Harry was helpless to do anything as Patricia who, when he had last met her, had seemed to have a hardness to her that even a diamond wouldn’t scratch, broke down, sweeping herself round into the arms of her husband, whose face was a reflection of darkness and horror. Ruth and her son Anthony looked all out of tears, their faces lost to an impossible pain neither one could fathom.

‘I think it would be better if we all moved inside,’ Harry said. ‘Then you can tell me what exactly happened here. When you’re ready to, that is.’

No one moved, the four of them held as though hypnotised by the blaze at the rear of the house.

‘Please,’ Harry said, this time his voice loud enough to get their attention, which was no small feat above the sound of the fire. Four sets of dead eyes turned towards him and he gestured at the house behind, deciding in the end to take the lead himself, dodging behind them and pushing open the door. ‘It’s better that you all stay inside,’ he said. ‘And we’ll be able to talk a little easier, too.’

As they moved into the house, away from the hellish heat, Harry wanted to ask where James was because his absence was so obvious, so stark, but he also knew that he didn’t need to. Because the answer was behind him, scorching his jacket into his back.

Chapter Twenty

Harry had the whole team gathered in front of him, including Fly, who was hiding under Jim’s chair. Everyone had a fresh mug of tea, Matt had done a quick stop off at Cockett’s for some bacon butties, and now all that was left was to get on with the job in hand. The trouble was, Harry was having a time of it trying to find the words which would get the proceedings started. He knew what he had to say, what task the team was now on with, but his voice was stuck in his throat, refusing to budge.

With the soft mumble of voices in front of him, as the team chatted quietly waiting for him to start, Harry stared out through the window into the day beyond. His mind had plenty rushing around in it, from having Ben living with him and wondering what their dad was up to now and if they’d ever hear from him again, to having to wait now to hear about how the job interview went, and if he got it, if he was given the role, if he actually wanted it, and now this.

And, of course, there was the sheep rustling thing, and he hadn’t even had a chance to talk with the team about the hours they’d spent up at the auction mart, even though it was only a couple of days ago, but with the funeral the day before, and the fact that he’d been out of the office at the interview, well, there hadn’t really been much time. Not that they’d found much, Harry thought. Nothing, actually, was closer to the truth. Though it wasn’t for lack of trying, and Jim’s mate, Neil, he’d been particularly enthusiastic about the whole thing, clearly feeling guilty about having kept Jim away from the farm when the theft had happened. Once they were done and back to the office, Jadyn had revealed that he'd collect quite a few cigarette butts just in case. Harry had once again been impressed with the constable’s keenness, though as longshots went, it was right up there.

Harry’s mind snagged for a moment on the interview, and his stomach twisted just a little. If he was successful, if he got the job, then it would be the biggest change in his life since

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