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Chapter One

 

Andy Horton stared at the body. The face was almost obliterated. Blood had seeped on to the pebbled beach, dark red, staining the stones around the man’s head. Bottle-green seaweed was wrapped around his ankles and he was naked; his arms were outstretched, the palms facing upward, fingers curled.

Horton averted his eyes and lowered his head over his torso, trying to catch his breath from his run. His stomach churned at the shock of such a gruesome discovery. It wasn’t that he had never seen a dead body before, or a violent death; on the contrary in his job they were all too plentiful. No, it was the unexpectedness of running into one that temporarily unnerved him. He usually arrived after some other poor sod had found it. And he’d got out of practice; eight months away from the sharp end had softened him.

He straightened up, wiping the sweat from his face, and stared around but all he could see was fog and all he could hear was the mournful boom of the foghorns in the Solent calling to one another like long lost giants.

He punched a number into his mobile. Why did this have to happen today of all days, only his second day back on duty after his suspension? But sod’s law always prevailed; either that or God had a wicked sense of humour, and if He did then He couldn’t be God, could He? But maybe he should be grateful to the corpse. This would give him a chance to show his colleagues that he hadn’t lost his touch.
‘DI Horton, is the DCI in?’
‘No sir, he’s at the hospital?’
‘He’s ill?’ Horton asked surprised.
‘No, sir, it’s PC Evans. He was stabbed last night.’
‘Christ! Is he all right?’ Poor Evans, the station joker, only two months away from retirement and counting the days.
‘He’s in intensive care. But they think he’ll pull through.’
‘Well thank God for that,’ Horton replied with feeling, picturing poor Maureen Evans’ face.

He quickly relayed the news of his discovery on Portsmouth’s beach and settled down to wait. He knew it wouldn’t be long. He took another look at the body. Who was he? What had he done to warrant such a violent death? Over the next couple of days they’d begin to find out. The team would be assembled, people questioned, statements taken and, hopefully, the victim identified. The investigative machine would swiftly gear itself into action and he was determined to play a central role in it. He was still a good cop despite the Lucy Richardson episode, which had cost him his position in the Special Investigations Department and earned him an eight-month suspension.
Impatiently he glanced at his watch and as he did four uniformed officers emerged from the fog armed with tape and bollards. He instructed two of them to seal off the beach to the east by the cruising association slipway and the other two to cordon off the area to the west below the old gunnery site. He looked up to see DCI Uckfield ploughing across the stones towards him. Horton pulled himself up. He couldn’t afford to foul up on this one.

 

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