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each other.’

25

There was a pall of smoke hanging over Sheffield. Three people had been taken overnight to Accident and Emergency with burns, two from firework explosions and one from falling on the bonfire severely inebriated.

There was a mist of rain, not heavy drops that would add to the River Porter flow, but a wet damp haze, nevertheless. Winston Leonards stared at his dark brown face in the mirror and grinned. The dark brown knitted hat he’d pulled on merged his visage into one dark brown blob with a slash of shiny white teeth breaking up the ebony effect.

‘Max!’ he called to the little black and white Jack Russell he’d adopted when his friend had gone back home to Jamaica to live. ‘Pee time.’

The dog gave a small woof of pleasure, and waited patiently for Winston to attach the lead. It was only half past five, but as always Winston had an early start at work; Max had to be sorted before he could open up the shop. Running a newsagent’s was interesting and he met lots of nice people, but early mornings were imperative.

Winston slipped on a warm jacket, zipped his mobile phone into the inside pocket and opened his front door, conveniently situated at the side of the shop he had managed for the last four years. A brisk half-hour walk, and he and Max would open the shutters and start work for the day.

They reached the kerb and Max obediently sat, waiting for the gentle tug on the lead that indicated they could cross the road safely. Next stop would be the fields and the freedom of being off the lead for twenty minutes, before their return to the shop.

Winston was wet within the first five minutes; the mist was all-encompassing, and combined with the somewhat acrid smell of still smouldering fires it wasn’t quite the pleasant walk he was used to, even during the past couple of weeks of more torrential rain. He bent and slipped the lead for the first time in over a week, watching Max race off in the direction of the Porter. Winston knew he would return on command. During the investigations by the police, he had kept Max on the lead, but the area seemed to be a police-free zone so Max could enjoy his freedom.

And then the little dog was gone. Winston called his name. Since the river had been in full flood, Max had seemed to recognise the danger and had stayed back on the bank, but now he wasn’t even in sight.

Winston gave a piercing whistle, and heard a small bark. ‘Max! Here boy,’ he called and heard a more prolonged two or three barks. He swerved and followed the sound, while glancing at his watch. ‘Don’t prat about, Max,’ he said under his breath, ‘we open up in quarter of an hour.’

The longer grass, away from the well-worn path, soaked Winston’s boots, but Max barked again and Winston could tell master and dog were pretty close. The bark wasn’t a bark of ‘let’s play’, it was more a bark of help requested.

He dropped down towards the water and saw the little dog, facing a naked woman, barking at her as if he could wake her. Winston knew that wasn’t going to happen. ‘Here, Max,’ he said softly, and tapped on his knee.

Max looked at the woman, and hesitated. Training took over and he left her, walking back to his owner. He waited until his lead was attached, then tried to pull Winston back towards the woman.

‘I know, Max, but this isn’t for us.’ He took out his mobile phone and dialled three nines. He knew of the four other bodies that had been found next to the river, but all crime scene tape had gone now, and this stretch of the river hadn’t really been affected anyway, other than the search he had noticed at the weekend. His shop wasn’t going to be open yet, he acknowledged, when the nice lady on the other end of the nine nine nine call asked him to wait until police arrived.

Erica answered her phone shortly before six. She asked that her team be informed, and she wanted the refreshments truck on site all day.

Flick handed her a coffee, then sipped at her own. ‘Do we know anything?’

‘Not yet, other than that chap with the little dog found her.’

‘The one walking away from us over the field?’

‘Yes, he owns the local newsagent’s, and needs to open up. I’ve asked him to say nothing, and we’ll go and chat to him later. He’s a bit shaken, but fine. The dog found her.’

‘Ivor here?’

‘In the tent. There’s an IX carved into the hand, and her fingertip is missing. I don’t expect anything to be any different to the others.’ Erica sounded tired. ‘It’s one step forward and two steps back all the time, isn’t it?’

‘It is. You okay?’

‘Tired. It took ages to get to sleep. Frannie had the day from hell, and she tossed and turned all night, and I was worried this would happen today. It was a perfect night for it. But we knew, didn’t we? Admit it, we both expected to be called out.’

Flick gave a brief nod. ‘We did. Could we have prevented it? Should we have had patrols up and down the riverbank?’

‘We couldn’t have prevented her death. This river is merely the display cabinet. They’re dead before they get here. At the best, we would have driven her to find a different place to pose her. I feel so angry about it. Once again nobody’s seen anything. The chap who found her actually lives on the main road, but because it’s a main road the odd car parked on it won’t be noticeable. That’s what roads are for, cars.’ She sipped at her coffee. ‘When we eventually catch this cockwomble of a woman, I’d love half an hour in a room on my own with her. And we will catch her, never doubt that.’

‘I don’t. Cockwomble?’

‘My grandmother

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