Beth sat waiting until O’Dowd finished ranting about the two new victims. The fact they’d been found in the cellar of an abandoned country house was indicator enough to suggest why they’d got the call.

Like her boss she’d recoiled at the idea of further victims, but also so soon. If either body had wings on their back, it probably meant they’d been killed by the same person who killed Angus Keane.

‘I mean, what the hell is going on? First Angus Keane and now another two victims have been discovered in the cellar of another old house. The chief super said that one of the bodies had been in there a good while. Fuck’s sake, Beth. What kind of fucking maniac are we after? I mean, killing people is bad enough, but what’s with the hiding them in cellars? And fuck only knows if he’s burned out their throats and stuck wings on their backs too.’

Beth had to brace her feet against the footwell as O’Dowd stood on the brakes after entering a corner faster than was safe. ‘Easy, ma’am.’

As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew they were a mistake. The DI wasn’t in the mood for censure of any kind, let alone criticism of her driving from a subordinate.

‘I have driven at speed before, you know.’ The reprimand was delivered in a snarled tone. ‘Instead of worrying about my driving, your time would be better spent thinking about how two more innocent people have lost their lives. About how we’ve no decent leads to follow and about how we can find a way to catch the killer.’

Beth kept her mouth shut.

With little information to go on, Beth’s imagination ran free and she pictured the victims set out as Angus Keane had been. Maybe they too had spent their last moments on earth confused and terrified, perhaps thinking of their loved ones.

While O’Dowd’s anger was directed at the impossibility of the case and the horror of the murders, the fury Beth could feel growing in her belly was aimed squarely at the killer. He was the one who’d chosen these victims, decided how they’d die and then executed them. The killer had to be stopped. For the victims; for the bereaved families; and for whoever the killer might go after next.

When all was said and done, Beth understood O’Dowd’s fury and drive to catch the killer. That her boss had vented was natural, but it had gone on too long and had been too intense. After five or ten minutes, Beth found herself wondering if there was a secondary reason for the DI’s lengthy rant.

---

O’Dowd gave no consideration to the car’s suspension as she barrelled along the dirt track that led towards Highstead Castle. Potholes, ruts and the few level areas were all treated as if they were billiard-table smooth.

They were in an area of the county Beth was unfamiliar with. She was aware it existed, but as it lay off the motorway roughly halfway between Carlisle and Penrith, she’d never had cause to go there before. A network of narrow roads linked the tiny villages and the farms to the larger arteries of the M6, A66 and B5305. This area was the heart of Cumbria’s farming community. These rolling hills lay home to cattle, dairy and arable farms, with the better-known sheep farms dominating the Lakeland Fells to the south-west and the North Pennines in the east. Beth could see the peaks of Blencathra and Skiddaw; as always, they gave her a sense of belonging. The Lake District was in her blood and she adored its beauty and majesty.

O’Dowd parked behind the CSI van and they both exited the car as the engine pinged its protest at O’Dowd’s rough treatment. They nodded at the crime scene manager who logged their names and needlessly pointed the way to go.

There was a cluster of CSI technicians standing by the door to the house. Off to one side, a uniformed officer was speaking to a man who had two pointers flanking him. Even from a distance, the dogs looked well-groomed and of excellent breeding stock.

The building was more of a manor house than a fortified castle with crenelated walls and a central tower. To Beth it looked Georgian in design, and she supposed that like so many old houses it had been rebuilt, renovated or extended many times since its foundations were first laid. The term ‘castle’ was a misnomer, but like so many of Cumbria’s country houses, it had more than likely been built on the ruins of a castle which dated back to the days when the Border Reivers were an ever-present threat.

Highstead Castle retained an imposing frontage despite being nothing more than a shell. It sat on higher ground than the lawn Beth and O’Dowd were crossing and looked down on them. Like Arthuret Hall, there was a grass fringe running along its wallheads. Each window was an empty hole depicting the shambles of the interior. At the left-hand side a tubular scaffold had been erected. It reached the tops of the walls, but Beth couldn’t see anyone working on the house.

O’Dowd caught the eye of one of the CSI team. ‘What’s the score?’

‘It’s a disaster zone.’ He pointed into the house. ‘Owner’s dog wandered off. When he went looking for it, he found it in the cellar barking its head off. He went in. Found two bodies and came out and called us.’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘The other bloody dog went in with him.’

Beth knew he wasn’t really blaming the house’s owner or the dogs. More that he was frustrated his job had been made harder. Two dogs and a civilian had trampled over his crime scene. He was used to forensic sterility and avoiding contamination, which meant he’d have to sift through the evidence and work out what had been carried in by the dogs and their owner.

‘What’s the cellar like?’

‘It’s a cellar of a house that’s falling down.’ Again his head shook. ‘It’s not what you’d call the safest place. Looks like the ceiling could collapse at any moment.’ He pointed at Dr Hewson who was loitering amidst a cloud of vape smoke. ‘He’s itching to get in, but until we can get the fire brigade to put some props in there, the site has been closed off.’

‘Nobody is stopping me.’ O’Dowd reached into the back of the CSI van and grabbed an oversuit. ‘You coming, Beth?’

Beth was already reaching for an oversuit of her own.

The place may be a little unsafe, but the owner had got in and out unscathed, and so had whoever had left the bodies. The chances of a collapse when they were in there would surely be minimal.