Clearing The Dark

by Hania Allen

Genres: Mystery

Synopsis

'Refreshing . . . I look forward to reading more' Alex Gray 'First-rate' Sunday Sport When it comes to murder, there's no such thing as a coincidence ... When DI Dania Gorska is called to investigate the shooting of a young man on a Dundee street, the nail hammered into his forehead suggests that local gangster, Archie McLellan has left his calling card. Clues point to his involvement in an illegal replica firearms venture, a scam that may include other members of the infamous McLellan family. The chance discovery of human remains buried in the grounds of Breek House, once owned by the McLellans, convinces Dania the two cases must be related. But who was the mysterious tenant of Breek House at the time the bodies were put into the ground? Identifying them is complicated as all the teeth have been removed - post mortem, to prevent identification? Or was the back room at Breek House used by the McLellans as a torture chamber? As Dania moves closer to discovering what went on at Breek House she disturbs dangerous secrets from the past which threaten the lives of those in the present... Praise for Hania Allen 'A fresh new find for crime fans' Sunday Post ' Nicely nasty in all the right places. . . The story rattles along until bringing the curtain down with an unnerving twist ' Craig Robertson ' Captivating characters and an intriguing plot. A great new find for crime fans' Lin Anderson ' Pitch-perfect. . . a witty, tense crime novel written in a highly readable style' Russel D McLean

Release date: October 1, 2019

Publisher: Constable

Print pages: 384

Sample

The ball soared over the slatted fence, disappeared into the trees and landed with a dull thud.

‘Cholera,’ Dariusz shouted. A devout Catholic, he didn’t usually swear, but they’d just started the game and someone would have to climb over.

His companions were looking at him expectantly. Antek glanced at his watch, letting him know more eloquently than words that, if they wanted a football match, he’d have to get a move on. The weather was on the turn. Although the clouds weren’t the ones that dropped rain, the speed with which the cloud-shadows chased each other over the fields suggested the wind was strengthening. It was the last game of the season because the field in which they were playing was about to be spread with fertiliser, readying it for planting with potatoes the following month.

Dariusz wiped his hands down his heavy-duty jeans and started to climb, his irritation mounting with each step. He hadn’t gone far when he heard a furious barking. Louie, the farm’s black-and-white Border Collie, had decided to join in and was leaping up and crashing against the fence. Dariusz called to the others to hold the dog back but they shouted to Louie to keep jumping. Idiots. What were they thinking? After months in their company, Louie still couldn’t understand a word of Polish. The dog gave up and scrabbled at the loose earth under the slats.

Dariusz continued to climb, feeling the fence sway under him. Fortunately, there were places where he could get a finger grip, even with hands as huge as his. Finding somewhere that would take his workman’s boots was another matter. He reached the top, swung his legs over and plunged the three metres to the ground. A mistake, as he landed in dense gorse, scratching his face and neck as he struggled to maintain his balance.

He knew this was a private estate because he drove past it every day. Curiosity had led him to check it out on Google Maps. He’d been surprised at the extent of the land. Bushes fringed the perimeter all the way to the ornamental metal gates, behind which a hedge-lined gravel driveway curved off to the left.

He pushed into the woodland, savouring the clean, resinous smell. The trees were mainly conifers, but there were also silver birches, just coming into leaf. He loved those trees as they reminded him of his native country, where they grew tall, the outer layers of bark curling in woody tatters. When he’d arrived in Dundee, he’d searched for the white storks’ nests, like huge crowns; he’d assumed there’d be storks in Scotland. He saw them everywhere in Poland, where they were much more common than the national bird, the white eagle. Every year, the same pair, Kleo and Klekotka, came to Lower Silesia to nest on his father’s farm. They were such a feature that his brother had installed a webcam above the nest and beamed the images to the rest of the world. Dariusz had proudly shown the footage to the other Poles. Antek, who’d been there the longest, had said storks were almost unknown in Scotland. A few pairs arrived but they never nested. He had added, grinning, that they were said to bring fertility, so what did that say about the Scots?

Dariusz was glad he’d made the journey to Scotland. The climate, the rain especially, was similar to that of Poland. Farm work was plentiful, and he was used to the hard physical labour and early mornings. Most of all, he was overwhelmed by the friendly attitude of the Scots. The only thing that worried him was the looming shadow of Brexit. Like many, Dariusz hated uncertainty.

A moment later, the trees thinned, giving him a glimpse of a lawn overgrown with coarse grass. In the distance he could see a great grey stone structure. Breek House, the farmer boss had called it. ‘A place to steer clear of, if you know what’s good for you,’ he’d added, with a knowing nod. Curiosity had always been a weakness of Dariusz’s. He waded into the grass, his attention not on where he was putting his feet but on the house with its black windows, like gaping mouths. There was something forbidding about it, a feeling that it was watching, perhaps for an unsuspecting guest. What wasn’t evident, because of the rise in the ground, was that, on the other side of the house, acres of land stretched to the horizon. A farmer’s paradise, if the soil was as rich as it was on the farm where he worked. But he’d heard that the house had lain empty for over a decade as no buyer could be found.

There was a sudden yapping. Louie had succeeded in tunnelling under the fence. He bounded over to Dariusz and gazed up expectantly, his tongue lolling from his open mouth. Dariusz ordered him first in Polish and then in English to search for the ball. Louie listened attentively, then cocked his head and darted back into the trees, sniffing at the ground. Suddenly, he went berserk and started scrabbling furiously.

The other Poles were shouting from behind the fence, asking what was keeping him. So where was the ball? If it had landed in the knee-high grass, he might as well give it up. He dropped down on all fours and ran his hands over the ground. Behind him, Louie was still digging, his back paws flinging pine needles and rotting leaves to left and right. Maybe he would reach Australia before Dariusz found the ball.

He sat back on his heels, wondering if money was to be made in inventing footballs with electronic chips that were detectable with a mobile phone, when Louie dashed over. His jaws were fastened on something large and round, something he set on the ground.

Shock surged through Dariusz. ‘Jezus Maria,’ he murmured, crossing himself.

The skull was missing its teeth and lower jaw. Bits of soil clung to the yellow-brown bone and had collected along the sutures. Dariusz stared at the vacant eye sockets and nose cavity with a mixture of horror and fascination. He prodded the skull. The pale light from the March sun touched it, making it glisten as though wet.

Louie rushed back into the woodland and continued to dig. What the hell was he doing now? Dariusz leapt to his feet and ran over, stopping short as he saw the long bone poking up through the soil.

He grabbed Louie’s collar and dragged the struggling animal away. Ignoring the frenzied yapping, he snatched the phone out of his pocket.

DS Honor Randall pulled up at the forbidding wrought-iron gates. ‘This must be it, boss. Breek House.’

‘Do you know this area?’ DI Dania Gorska said.

‘Nope. It’s pretty, though.’

This was Dania’s first visit to Burnside of Duntrune, a hamlet on the outskirts of Dundee. After passing acres of farmland and the odd white-painted farmhouse, they’d arrived at a picturesque bridge. To the left there was a low stone aqueduct over water that flowed into a mill dam, the Fithie Burn, according to the sat-nav. They veered left, getting a better view of the aqueduct, and reached Breek House a short while later.

Honor was stifling a yawn. A sharp-featured Londoner with wild dark hair, she was stick-thin, despite having discovered the delights of Scottish cuisine. Since making sergeant, she’d revamped her wardrobe and now wore Debenhams trouser suits, which never seemed to fit properly.

‘What time did you get to bed this morning?’ Dania said.

‘I’m not sure.’

‘New man?’

‘I’m not sure about that either.’ She grinned. ‘You know I only have eyes for your brother.’

Dania was glad to have Honor in her team. She’d worked with her, a straightforward and straight-talking officer, on her previous murder case and had come to the conclusion that Honor was someone she could depend upon. The two women had recently been promoted and Dania had almost had to beg on her knees to keep Honor in the squad. Fortunately, the DCI had recognised that the women working together were more than the sum of their parts. Dania knew little about Honor’s private life except that she was fond of cats, lived alone but seemed to enjoy a gloriously active sex life.

‘You should have let me drive, Honor.’

‘It’s okay, boss. I can keep my eyes open if I have to.’

‘Wait here, and I’ll see if we can get inside.’

The padlock was hanging open. Dania pushed hard at the gates, prepared to put her back into it, and was surprised at how easily they opened. The Polish worker had told them the place was abandoned. Yet a quick examination revealed that the hinges had recently been oiled.

Back in the Skoda, she signalled to Honor to turn into the grounds. The driveway was flanked on either side by low ever-green shrubs, which looked as though they’d been hastily trimmed. They crunched along the gravel, following the left turn, and, a minute later, reached a clearing with the house beyond. A short flight of steps led to the front door, above which was a stone crest with the Latin inscription: ‘ABSIT INVIDIA’.

‘Crikey,’ Honor said reverentially. ‘That’s some pile.’

The house, its stone darkened with age, was built on three levels, and had a gable roof tiled with slates. It might have been described as handsome were it not for the general air of neglect. And the bars on the ground-floor windows. An attempt had been made to tackle the ivy by lopping it near the roots, but the curling strands were still creeping skywards, and it was simply a matter of time before the plant claimed the house.

‘Where did the guy tell you he’d be waiting?’ Honor said, cutting the engine.

‘By the woodland. Which could mean anywhere. We should check first whether someone’s at home.’

They hurried up the steps. When there was no reply to Dania’s ring, she signalled they should try at the back.

‘Look!’ Honor said, as they rounded the corner. ‘There he is.’

In the wooded distance, a man was standing hunched over, waving an arm. He was shouting something they couldn’t catch.

They made their way across the grassy wasteland as quickly as the terrain allowed. The ground, Dania discovered, was littered with hidden stones that slowed their progress. As they approached, she saw that he was gripping a black-and-white dog by the collar. The animal was straining to free himself, his attention on something in the trees behind.

‘Are you Mr Dariusz Baranowski?’ Dania said.

‘Yes. You are police?’ His English was heavily accented, much more so than her own. He had messy hair, the same blond as her brother’s, and eyes that were a faded blue. If he straightened, he would tower over her, no mean feat as she was nearly six foot tall.

‘I’m DI Gorska and this is DS Randall,’ she said, pulling out her warrant card. ‘West Bell Street station.’

‘You are from Poland?’ Dariusz said in Polish.

‘I am, but we’ll need to speak in English as my colleague doesn’t understand the language. So, can you tell us what happened?’

‘We are playing football.’ He gestured to the fence, visible beyond the bushes. ‘We kick the ball over here. I climb the fence to find it.’ He glanced at the dog. ‘Louie came too. I look for the football and not see that Louie is digging. He carry to me the head. It is in the field over there. Then I see that he finds this.’

Dariusz gestured behind him. Scattered around a pile of earth was an assortment of what looked like human bones.

Dania squatted beside the mound. She was no expert, but she recognised the curve of a ribcage.

‘I am afraid Louie messes everything when he is digging.’

‘Do you reckon it’s an ancient grave?’ Honor said, picking at her lip.

‘It looks too shallow. But it may be.’ Dania straightened. ‘We’ll need Professor Slaughter. Can you call it in?’ She glanced towards the house. Seen from the side, it seemed distant and forbidding. Who lived there?

‘Mr Baranowski, will you show me where the skull is? The head,’ she added, when he seemed uncertain.

His expression cleared. ‘It is just here.’ He tried to drag the dog, but the animal had other ideas.

‘Honor, can you take Louie?’

‘Sure, boss.’ The girl took hold of the collar, but lost her grip, and the dog made a dash for freedom. A few metres from where they were standing, he started to scratch at the ground. A damp earthy smell reached Dania’s nostrils. Dariusz made to go after him but she grabbed his arm.

‘Let him do it,’ she said quietly.

A minute later, they saw it.

‘My God,’ Honor said, her voice faltering. ‘What is this place?’

‘Pull him away, Dariusz,’ Dania shouted in Polish.

He caught Louie and held his collar firmly. The blood had drained from his face. He was praying softly. Swięta Maryo, Matko Boża. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

‘Honor, can you take Mr Baranowski to the car and get a statement? I’ll wait here for Forensics.’

‘What about the dog?’

‘Take him as well. Otherwise he’ll keep digging.’

‘You think there are more of these?’

‘Who knows? We’ll need to get Nelson out here.’

Nelson was the unit’s cadaver dog, trained to uncover human remains, including skeletons. He could detect the chemical signature of death even when the bones were buried.

Dania watched the Pole drag Louie away. The dog probably spent his time herding sheep. Given he’d already found two graves, perhaps he’d prefer a change of career.

As the figures dwindled into the distance, she felt a twinge of apprehension. If these graves proved to be recent, this would be her first big case since becoming DI. Although she had a good team behind her, she was only too aware that any failures would be attributed to her. She remembered what one of her colleagues at the Met had told her: the higher up the greasy pole you climb, the harder it is to hang on. All officers of her rank and above knew this to be a fact.

As the freshening wind sucked at the leaves, lifting and scattering them, she stared at the graves, wondering what sort of grip you needed to hang on to a greasy pole.

The area round the graves was cordoned off with blue tape. Markers had been placed to form a corridor, and officers were moving back and forth in solemn lines.

Dania approached the tall man with the expertly barbered hair. He was standing surveying the graves, his expression suggesting that, not only was he in charge, everyone needed to know it.

‘I’m DI Dania Gorska.’ She hesitated. ‘I had expected Milo Slaughter.’

‘Milo’s on sabbatical. I’m Professor Jackson Delaney,’ he said, stressing the title. He had soft brown eyes and knew how to use them to best advantage. ‘But everyone calls me Jack,’ he added, holding her gaze. He spoke with a polished English accent.

‘I’m afraid the graves were disturbed by the dog. We’ve still to find the skull from the first. I think it’s somewhere in that grass.’

‘I take it you’ve sent photos to CAHID.’

CAHID was Dundee University’s Centre for Anatomy and Human Identification. As well as running courses in forensic anthropology and anatomy, it supported the police in their forensic-science work, including offering a ‘bones service’. Police sent in photos of bones found by the public, and one of the responders, a specialist in human anatomy, would identify them as either human or animal. Knowing that a bone was animal saved the police huge costs in terms of time and resources. Although Dania had been as sure as she could be that the remains were human, she’d needed an expert’s opinion. The reply had come back in minutes.

‘The bones are human, Professor. We wouldn’t have called you out otherwise.’

‘In that case, let’s get gowned up.’ He shouted to his assistant, a plump, auburn-haired girl in her twenties, to bring the box of over-suits.

Dania dressed quickly, glad that she’d worn her trouser suit. It had cost a small fortune but was worth it as it fitted her perfectly. Finding clothes was always difficult, but she’d discovered a boutique in Edinburgh’s Grassmarket that catered for tall women. Since then, she hadn’t looked back, and much of her salary disappeared into the shop’s coffers. Most of the rest went on the rent.

They ducked under the tape.

‘Where did you say the skull was?’ Jackson said.

‘Somewhere in that field.’

‘Go and find it, Steph,’ he said to the assistant.

The girl lumbered away, the set of her shoulders revealing the extent of her irritation. Dania guessed she was still in training, or she wouldn’t have put up with Jackson’s manner so readily.

They squatted beside the first grave. ‘Can you say how old the bones are, Professor?’ Dania said, breathing in the leaf-rot smell.

‘It depends on dampness and soil acidity. These bones are hardly degraded, but I’ll need to get them back to the lab to be sure.’

‘Best guess? I won’t quote you,’ she added, when he seemed reluctant to continue.

‘Not ancient.’

‘And how old were these people when they died?’

‘If I had the teeth, I could narrow it down from the X-rays. Comparing the stage of tooth formation with known dental growth gives a pretty accurate age determination.’ He picked up a piece of bone. ‘This is the lower jaw. But it’s missing every tooth.’

‘Don’t you find that strange?’

‘Very.’

‘Could it be an elderly person who’s lost teeth over time?’

‘Possibly. It’s not a deal-breaker because bones also have markers that can give you the age.’ He rested his gaze on hers. ‘Have you used CAHID before?’

‘Just their bones service. I’ve only been here a year.’

His mouth formed into a smile. ‘I did some of my training there. We’ll have dinner together tonight, and I can fill you in on what they do for the police.’

‘We’ll have dinner tonight, Professor, but not together. Now, what can you tell me about the second victim?’

His smile glazed over. He got to his feet and loped across to the grave. The Forensics staff stepped back as he approached.

He examined the skull. ‘This one has upper and lower jaw intact.’

She said it before he did. ‘No teeth.’

‘They may have fallen out over time, as you suggested.’ He stared into the distance. ‘Is that an old people’s home, by any chance?’

‘I’ve no idea. It’s called Breek House.’

‘Never heard of it. But if it is a care home, it might explain the missing teeth. I’ll have the investigators sift through the soil just in case.’

‘There’s another explanation.’

‘I’m sure there is. Tell me your theory, Inspector,’ he said, in the tone a lecturer would use.

‘They’ve been pulled out.’

He frowned. ‘Torture?’

‘Maybe we’ll find evidence when the skeletons are examined.’

‘Good luck with that.’ He glanced across at the photographer, another young-looking girl, whose hair was dragged back into a ponytail. She was hunched over the first grave, snapping away, while Jackson’s staff conducted the exhumation. ‘Johanna, we need you here when you’re finished,’ he shouted.

The girl looked up and nodded sullenly.

‘There’s no evidence the bodies were clothed,’ Dania said.

‘Good point. And why do you think that is?’

His manner was starting to annoy her. ‘The perpetrator might have left his DNA on the clothes. Or they might have been removed because they gave a clue to identity.’

Steph had found the skull. She strolled over to the first grave and tossed it to one of her colleagues.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Jackson shouted. ‘They may be dead but they’re still human beings. They have the right to dignity.’ He pointed at her. ‘You’re on report for that,’ he added angrily.

The girl stared at him, open-mouthed.

He muttered something Dania couldn’t hear, then turned his attention back to his work. ‘So, what’s your current thinking, Inspector?’

‘There may be more graves. We’ll have to search this place thoroughly. I’ll call it in.’ She got to her feet. ‘How much of this area will you need to examine?’

‘How long is a piece of string? We won’t know until we’ve begun. Sometimes you find human fragments some distance from the body. It’s my responsibility to recover them all.’ He looked around. ‘Pity about the leaves. It makes it impossible to see differences in plant growth and colour. Those can be helpful when excavating graves.’

She pulled off the protective clothing and nodded to the duty officer, who was keeping a log of arrivals and departures. Hunched against the growing wind, she set off in the direction of the Skoda.

Honor was in the car with DC Laurence Whyte, a young, boyish-faced officer. When Dania had first worked with him, she’d found him pathologically shy, his green eyes constantly avoiding her gaze. Like many women, she was drawn to shy men, and had had to remind herself of the difference in their ranks. But it soon became clear that his affections were directed towards the station’s technical department. Honor, who had a great rapport with him to the extent that he was the only officer with whom she’d share her toffees, claimed to know which girl he had his eye on, but was saying nothing.

The two officers were interviewing the last of the farmworkers, a nervous, close-shaven giant. Dania waited for him to leave before filling in her colleagues on what Jackson had found.

‘Know what I’m thinking, boss?’ Honor said, chewing her thumb. ‘Those missing teeth. Some of the Dundee gangs like to do nasty stuff when they play with their victims.’

‘That’s what I thought. And there might be more graves. Laurence, can you see what’s keeping Nelson?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ He reached for the car radio.

She signalled to Honor to get out of the Skoda, and they walked slowly down the driveway.

‘What did you learn from the farmworkers, Honor?’

‘They don’t know anything. They had a game of footie and the ball was kicked over. There was one thing I found strange, though.’

Dania looked at her expectantly.

‘They all have this grey smudge on their foreheads.’

She felt her lips curve into a smile. ‘That’s ash.’

‘Ash? Why do they have it? Some sort of weird initiation?’

‘You could say that. They’re Roman Catholics. Today’s Ash Wednesday.’ She lifted her heavy fringe. ‘I have the same. See?’

‘Okay,’ Honor said, drawing out the word.

‘I’m assuming the workers aren’t here on a permanent basis. Have you spoken to the farmer?’

‘He’s away on a buying spree, according to Dariusz. They’re about to start planting spuds.’

‘Where’s the collie?’

‘Dariusz took him away.’

Dania looked past the gates towards the road. ‘Will you watch out for the Canine Unit? I’m going to take a quick look round the grounds.’

Dania struck out across the grass, wishing she had more appropriate footwear. Although she was wearing boots, they didn’t grip well enough, and the last thing she wanted was to sprain her ankle. In the distance, the white-suited figures of Jackson and his team were bent over the graves. They were making good time. The first lot of remains was being taken to the gates where the mortuary van was waiting.

She turned left without any firm idea of where she was going or what she was looking for. The ground grew more uneven, the lawn, if it could be called that, morphing into a stony brown field dotted with patches of grass. The smell of woodsmoke reached her from the adjacent farm.

Only now did she appreciate how extensive the grounds were. After walking for several minutes, she reached more pine trees and yellow gorse bushes, and the same wooden fence skirting the perimeter. If she followed it to the right, she’d arrive at the graves. The opposite direction would take her to the metal-gated entrance.

She retraced her steps, rounding the corner of the house to find Honor and Laurence chatting to a man holding a black and gold German Shepherd on a leash. Dania recognised Nelson and his handler, a hunky smiling Irishman she knew only as Christy. He had long dark hair and was wearing his usual ribbed blue jumper and baggy camouflage trousers. The dog was straining to get loose, which was a good sign.

‘Hello now, Inspector,’ Christy said cheerfully. ‘What’s the score today, then?’

‘We’ve found two graves close to one another, and I need to know if there are more.’

‘What’s the land like?’

‘Flat and grassy, with trees and bushes on the boundary. That’s where we found the bones.’

‘Not bodies?’

She shook her head. ‘That won’t be a problem, I take it.’

‘Ah, sure it won’t. I trained Nelson well. He’s that good, he can alert you to remains under running water.’

She knew that cadaver dogs can detect residue scents even after a corpse has been removed. They’d have to steer him away from the excavated graves. ‘We should wait until Forensics have finished,’ she said.

Christy tilted his head. ‘What shall we talk about in the meantime? A second referendum on Scottish independence?’

Honor groaned. ‘Oh, please, anything but that.’

‘If Scotland leaves the UK, it’ll be all right for the likes of me, I may say. I’m from Dublin.’

‘You sure you won’t be kicked out along with us English?’ Honor said.

‘Me? Kicked out of Scotland?’ He rolled his eyes in mock horror. ‘The women of Scotland can’t live without me, so they can’t.’

Dania smiled. ‘Shall we see how the professor’s getting on?’

‘Would that be Professor Jackson Delaney, by any chance?’

‘It would.’

Christy’s eyes narrowed. ‘I wouldn’t give that man the steam off my porridge.’

‘Oh? Why not?’

‘He told me he can’t stand dogs.’

She hesitated. The last thing she needed was a confrontation between two alpha males.

‘It’s all right, Inspector. I know how to behave in public.’ Christy ran his fingers behind the dog’s ears. ‘And so does Nelson.’

She nodded to Honor and Laurence to stay by the house, then led the way round the back.

‘Would you look at this place?’ Christy said, stopping and gazing around. ‘It goes all the way to the next county. Who lives here?’

‘We’ve still to establish that.’ She gestured towards where the professor was working. ‘Right now, all I’m interested in is what’s out there.’

Jackson Delaney was getting to his feet. Moments later, two Forensics staff headed away from the woodland, carrying a large box with the second lot of remains. As they passed, Nelson pulled frantically at the leash.

Jackson was heading in their direction. He glanced at Nelson, then nodded curtly to Christy. ‘I’m taking these to CAHID,’ he said to Dania. ‘I’ll have Harry get in touch when he’s ready.’

‘Harry?’

‘Professor Harry Lombard. He’s assistant director there.’

‘Only the assistant?’ Christy said cheekily.

‘The lady who runs the place is away just now.’

‘Did you find the teeth?’ Dania said quickly, as the men continued to glower at one another.

Jackson shook his head. ‘We sifted the soil pretty deeply.’

‘I’d be grateful if you waited around in case we find more graves.’

‘All right, but I need to make sure these get processed. Hold on.’ He hurried to where his staff were waiting and spoke to them, then returned.

Nelson let out a low growl and would have leapt up at Jackson, had Christy not calmed him with a word.

‘I’ll thank you to keep that animal away from me,’ Jackson said sharply.

‘It’s because you’ve got the smell of death on you. Perhaps you should wait over there with your staff.’

Jackson thought about this, then turned on his heel and walked off.

‘Cheerful bugger, isn’t he?’ Christy said, not too quietly. ‘We’d better get going. If I don’t release this mutt soon, he’ll take my arm off.’

‘So how do we do this?’ Dania said. ‘Shall we start at the gates and work our way through the woodland systematically?’

‘It’d be quicker to wait for the second coming of Christ. No, we just let Nelson loose.’ He walked towards the woodland and took Nelson off the lead. The dog stood to attention.

‘Go, Nelson!’ he shouted.

Nelson dashed into the trees, Christy following.

‘Is that his signal?’ Dania gasped, trying to keep up.

‘I’ve trained him that way. All handlers have their preferred method. Sometimes it’s a code word, like “Geronimo” or “Popeye”.’

Nelson had reached the woodland and was padding around the trees, his nose brushing the ground. Suddenly, he stopped and lay down, his ears pricked.

‘That’s where we found the first grave,’ she said. ‘You need to move him on.’

Christy took a biscuit from his pocket and fed it to the dog. ‘Go, Nelson!’ he said.

The dog jumped up and ran off, sniffing the ground. Seconds later, he found the other grave.

After feeding the dog another biscuit, Christy said again, ‘Go, Nelson!’

Nelson dashed off into the woodland. He sniffed around and under the gorse bushes, then ran on, leading them further from the graves.

Dania was beginning to think that two sets of remains were all they were going to find when Nelson sat down beside a gorse bush, his heavy tail thumping the ground.

She felt her throat tighten. ‘Okay, I’ll mark the spot and get the professor to take a look.’

Christy called Nelson. At his signal, the dog disappeared deeper into the trees. They were now diametrically opposite the metal entrance gates.

It was when Nelson sat down for the fourth time, looking expectantly at his handler, that Dania realised the site might be one massive graveyard. And what would push her investigation into the well-nigh-impossible category was that the fence the dog was sitting beside