Anna got in to work early next morning. Trisha had left a note on her desk to remind her about the meeting with Dermot Keaton, the archaeologist. The team drifted in with waved greetings. When Trisha arrived at half eight Anna asked, ‘What exactly did Keaton say when he rang?’

Trisha shrugged. ‘Just that he had some findings you might be interested in.’

Anna was pondering exactly what that might be when her desk phone rang. She picked up and immediately recognised the receptionist’s voice.

‘Inspector Gwynne, we have a Mrs Easterby here in reception. Says she’s a nurse manager from Ryegrove. Says you wanted to speak to her.’

‘I’ll be right down.’

Monica Easterby was a big woman who managed her girth with good clothes and no stretch fabrics. Her broad face was made up attractively to match her dark complexion. Late-fifties in a dark suit, she jangled with a variety of chunky metallic adornments as she walked – earrings, a bracelet and necklace all matching with some kind of African theme. Despite her size, she moved with surprising ease as Anna introduced herself and took her to an office used for informal interviews on the ground floor. She rang upstairs and got Holder to join her with two coffees. Always good to have someone to take notes if needed.

‘Thanks for coming in so promptly,’ Anna said.

Easterby smiled without showing her teeth. ‘When Jocelyn told me… anything I can do to help, Inspector.’

Holder came into the room with a couple of mugs and sachets of sugar. Easterby took two.

Anna waited until the coffee was stirred and then asked, ‘What is your memory of Alison Johnson’s disappearance?’

‘We were mystified. She was a very good nurse. Efficient, caring. She was engaged to a nice boy. There was no reason for her to have gone off. She left a big hole to fill. Of course, after nothing was found we all began to fear the worst. But I’m ashamed to say I’d almost forgotten about her until Jocelyn said you’d been asking questions.’

‘I understand there was a great deal of disruption in the unit at the time.’

Easterby nodded. ‘Made it easy for some of the patients to take advantage of the changed routines. Some of them were – how can I put it – less cooperative.’

‘In what way?’

‘They’d hide. Sometimes they’d slip through the net and head into the grounds.’

‘Anyone actually get away?’

‘No. Absolutely not. We were very careful about that.’

‘What sort of patients did you have on the unit then?’

‘A lot like we have now. The difference is that we’re able to segregate properly these days. The old unit was not fit for purpose. Don’t forget Ryegrove was once an isolation hospital for infectious diseases. We even had mixed wards.’ Easterby shook her head. The noise her jewellery made reminded Anna of a wind chime. ‘It’s only twenty-five years since we started to shift care back into the community,’ Easterby continued. ‘They closed the Bankside asylum which was adjacent to Ryegrove and migrated the patients. We did have secure wards, both male and female, but it was nothing like it is now.’

‘Did Alison work on the secure unit?’

‘She did. And she was good at it.’ Easterby smiled. ‘You’re going to ask me now if I remember anything suspicious and the answer is no. I can’t even remember who she was working with directly. We tended to allocate nurses to patients, so they could establish a relationship. There’s more than one usually. But I can check.’

‘Thank you. They were working on the perimeter fence and the grounds at that time, were they?’

‘Yes. The fence. seventeen feet all the way around.’ Easterby’s smile was wistful.

‘Don’t you approve?’

‘Of course I do, but it does give a terrible impression. It always reminds me of the fences at zoos.’

Anna flipped over a couple of pages in her notebook until she found what she wanted. ‘There’s a point at the very edge of the grounds that overlooks the railway line. Have you ever seen that?’

‘No. The railway line? Is that where you found Alison?’

‘It is. Would she have known about this spot, do you think?’

Easterby shrugged. ‘She would have been in the grounds with patients, obviously. Supervising. But I can’t say if she ever went to that particular spot.’

Anna nodded. ‘She would have had access.’

‘Yes.’

‘That spot is important, we think. Would anyone else know?’ Anna asked.

‘I’ll ask around but there aren’t many nurses left who were there with Alison at the time.’

‘What about patients?’

‘Oh yes, there are a few of those. That’s the trouble with our work.’ She sighed. ‘One or two are probably never going to leave.’

‘I’d need a list. We may also need to establish the whereabouts of those who were there at the time but who have now left. In case we need to interview any of them.’

Easterby nodded. ‘See what I can do.’

---

When she’d gone, Anna stayed in reception with Holder. ‘Fancy a little trip?’ she asked.

Holder nodded, and Anna rang Trisha.

‘Can you check with Keaton, the forensic archaeologist? See if he’s on-site now?’

While they waited, Holder filled Anna in on what progress he’d made on the original Alison Johnson file. ‘Looks pretty textbook, ma’am. The initial investigating officer made a risk assessment and, given the circumstances of her work and the area, the case was elevated into a major search due to significant risk of harm, and a local SIO was appointed. The fiancé was made the point of contact as they were living together, though there was close liaison with the parents. Digital seizure of computers and phones of those closest to her threw up nothing, but Alison’s phone was never found. There was a strategised search of the area where the car was found abandoned as well as air support. Passive data on CCTV and ANPR showed nothing after the car entered Glastonbury. She was not seen by any surveillance.’

‘That’s because she wasn’t there.’

‘No, ma’am. There’s been a couple of case reviews and, needless to say, both financial and proof of life enquiries showed nothing over the years.’

Anna nodded. This was standard procedure. If someone chose to disappear they often slipped up and left some crumbs. Loyalty cards, requests for passports or car rentals, typically.

‘But they didn’t search the grounds of the hospital or adjacent?’

‘The grounds, yes. But it was a building site. They also searched changing rooms and lockers she may have used. Found nothing.’

‘Media?’

‘Used early and extensively.’

‘Last person interviews?’

‘That was the security officers at Ryegrove, ma’am. Jack Morris is on that list. And a Dr King.’

Trisha rang back. ‘Dr Keaton is on-site and waiting for you, ma’am.’

Anna got up and grabbed her coat. ‘Tell him we’re on our way.’

---

They took the fleet Ford Escort. Holder drove; Anna stared out of the window at passing traffic while her brain sifted what intelligence they’d gathered for indigestible lumps. So far, there were few, if any.

Keaton met them outside a support unit vehicle with ‘Dept of Forensic Investigation, University of Wales, Cardiff’ written on the side of it. He was as tall as Holder but at least twenty years older. He handed out overshoes but said they didn’t need to put on the Tyvek suits. He took them across to the tent where they’d found Alison.

‘Obviously, we took samples as we dug down and we’ve had some analysis back already.’ He stepped inside the tent and pointed to the large stones beneath them, adjacent to the excavation. ‘You can see there’s a difference in colour here.’

Anna followed his finger. The large stone chippings were all grey, but some seemed lighter than others.

‘In this area directly adjacent to the grave, some of the stones are lighter and match those we took off the surface to the actual grave. This pale colour is the result of bleaching.’

‘Bleaching?’

‘Yes. Whoever put the body here poured bleach first and then’ – he pointed to another stone smudged a darker, brown colour – ‘poured diesel over that.’

‘Why?’ Holder asked.

‘My bet is to mask the smell in case of a dog search.’

‘Would that work?’

‘I don’t know. But whoever did this may have hoped it would. It’s possible in the early stages it might have. But it didn’t fool the cadaver dogs. The penetration was only to a few centimetres. Consistent with someone pouring it on after the burial.’

‘What about the other site?’

‘It’s the same. Diesel and bleach.’

‘Could imply the same perpetrator,’ Holder said.

He was right. Anna looked at Keaton. ‘Were these graves dug the same way? Same tools?’

‘I would say the same tools. Some cleaving of the smaller stones is consistent with a mattock – a double-ended tool with a pick one side and an adze on the other. The same sort of cleaving damage is seen in both, but this one, the one containing Alison, is much shallower by some three feet.’

‘Why?’ Holder asked.

‘Maybe it was done in a hurry,’ Keaton suggested.

Anna was beginning to like this man. He was willing to suggest answers rather than hedge and retreat behind science, like Gupta so often did.

‘You can tell by simply examining the soil?’

Keaton nodded.

Anna walked out of the tent and, skirting the first site, walked to the edge, looking across the divide to the Ryegrove fence. She turned her head back. ‘Has anyone asked you to look over there?’

Keaton joined her. ‘Where?’

‘At the fence. This side of it.’

‘No, no one.’

‘OK, then I’m asking now.’

‘What am I looking for, exactly?’

‘I have no idea. But I’d be grateful if you’d cast an eye. That fence overlooks this site and I think that’s highly significant. Is there more than a sightline? Some physical link perhaps?’

Keaton nodded. ‘OK. I’ll take a look.’

Anna held out her hand. ’You’ve been extremely helpful, Dr Keaton. I’m much obliged.’

---

Back in the car, Holder looked a little perplexed.

‘Come on, Justin, what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing, ma’am. It’s just it wasn’t exactly vital, all that stuff, was it?’

‘No, but useful. Come on, what’s the take-home?’

‘Whoever buried them wanted to mask his crimes?’

‘Yes, they did. And?’

Holder looked blank.

‘What about Alison’s grave being shallower?’

‘Could mean they were running out of time?’

‘Exactly. Or had to do it quickly. In either case it sounds like her death was not as planned as Jamie’s.’

Holder nodded, concentrating, trying to follow her thinking.

‘So?’ Anna waited, probing gently.

Holder sighed. ‘No, I’m not seeing it.’

‘If it wasn’t planned then it probably was not directly Black Squid-related. All of those deaths have been orchestrated, the victims well aware of what they were meant to do. Alison also had a broken arm. A defensive injury. She didn’t want to die out there. And her killer needed to get rid of the body quickly. Probably before it was noticed she was missing. That means within a few hours of her leaving work. What time did her fiancé report her missing?’

‘Seven the following morning.’

‘So now we have a working time frame, too.’

Holder nodded. ‘Where to now, ma’am?’

‘Back to HQ. I’d like you to call in on the lab. See if they’re getting anywhere with the key card we found. Is there a logo or an image of some kind that’ll confirm where it’s from? I want you to make Alison Johnson your specialist subject on this one, Justin.’

‘I can do that.’

Anna smiled. She knew he would. Already an idea was marinating in her head. Anna liked patterns. Her brain found them unbidden, and there was no doubt the Black Squid deaths all followed one. But Alison Johnson did not fit that pattern. She glanced across at Holder. He still looked like a kid from the sixth form on work experience, though she knew he was mid-twenties. He was conscientious and ambitious, and she could trust him to get a handle on the dead nurse. What she didn’t say was how she would have given him everything in her bank account to swap that specialist subject with the one that had become hers.

The idea, unfounded, but making all her antenna twitch, was though Alison’s death might not be directly Black Squid-related, it was tied up with that sordid game in some way she could not yet fathom. And it meant she was going to have to invoke her specialist subject very soon if she was going to get anywhere.

Hector Shaw loomed on her horizon like a dark stain she wished she could scrub out.