Won't you need your keys to get into the flat to move all this crap out? Your bicycle, your rowing machine?'

I'll let you know when I can get them moved out over to my place.'

Then he was gone.

All the shelves in the bathroom where he'd kept his rows of pills were empty. She was quite shocked, not at the available space, but how he had in such a rage remembered to take them all. He'd left some socks and a pair of shoes, his dirty laundry in the basket, a few shirts and one suit. She felt like taking a pair of scissors and cutting them to shreds; instead, she slammed the wardrobe door and went to clean up the broken champagne glass. Tipping it into the bin in the kitchen, she noticed a number of empty pill bottles. She took them out. They were all his painkillers but some of them, she noticed, had different strengths and, oddly enough, various labels, all from different chemists. She threw them back into the bin, tied up the plastic bag and placed it by the front door to take to the bins outside the next morning.

Anna had a terrible night. She couldn't sleep, yet she didn't feel like crying. The more she tossed and turned, the more angry she felt at the way he had behaved. She would not contact him; she was sure that, when he thought about the entire situation, he would apologize. She'd wait, because she did not feel she had in any way been at fault; all she had ever done was consider his recovery to be the most important thing. All he had very obviously done was selfishly make it his sole priority. Well, he had achieved what he was so determined to do: he had been reinstated as a leading detective in the Murder Squad. She would no doubt read about him in the Police Gazette, and by next week he would be attached to a murder enquiry.

Arthur Murphy's trial would soon be over and she would be onto another case, obviously not with Langton. If he went down on bended knee for her to join whatever team he was selecting, she would never work alongside him again. In fact, by four o'clock in the morning, she had worked herself up into such a fury that she dragged down one of her own suitcases and hurled into it everything she could find that he had left behind. She then went into the hall and chucked it onto his rowing machine.

When Anna returned to bed, she decided she would ask Harry to help her remove everything and leave it at Langton's flat. She punched her pillow with her fist and dragged the duvet cover around herself.

The next thing, she was jolted awake by her alarm clock. She reached over to slap it off with the flat of her hand and lay there for a moment, her heart thudding. The silence, the total silence, did it to her; she broke down and sobbed. It was over, he'd gone, and already she missed him.

Arthur George Murphy was sentenced to life with a minimum term of fifteen years for the murder of Irene Phelps. His mother, Beryl Dunn, sat almost hidden at the end of the gallery. Three of Irene's co-workers from the library sat in the centre of the gallery, staring at the smug gloating face of their friend's killer, unaware his mother was so close. Irene's parents wept, holding each other's hands. Murphy showed no remorse, and shrugged his shoulders in the dock as if the sentence meant nothing.

As Anna left the court, Beryl Dunn hurried towards her.

Excuse me? Hello!'

Anna had seen Beryl but didn't really want to face her again.

I've still not heard from our Gail,' she said loudly. She was wearing the same clothes she had worn in the cafe, and her make-up looked as if she'd just given it another layer. Did you do anything about it for me?'

Anna saw Brandon making a quick exit, and she hesitated.

Mrs Dunn continued. Like I said, I've not heard from her. Something's got to be doneI mean, she's not even called me.'

I gave the local police near her bungalow the details, and they will have no doubt contacted social services.'

Did you report her missing?'

No. I told you that you would have to make a formal report.'

But that's not right; she's never not kept in touch and I got her social cheques and her child support. I told you they get sent to me, now why wouldn't she want them?'

Mrs Dunn, if you really think something is wrong then'

I know something is.'

then make a report.'

Fuck off,' she said, and pushed past Anna.

It was then that Irene's ex-husband walked towards Anna. He introduced himself and thanked her, as Beryl banged out of the court. He was a tall, rather gaunt man, with thinning sandy hair and a dark navy suit.

I am Kenneth Phelps,' he said, then hesitated, as if saying his name was somehow embarrassing.

How is your daughter?' she asked.

Natalie is gradually settling down with us in Devon, but it's very hard; she misses her mother, obviously. We have some help from a counsellor, but of course, she has nightmares. Her grandparents visit when they can. Eventually, she'll make new friends at the school, but right now, we just take it day by day.'

Anna watched him walk over to join Irene's mother and father; at least he was not alone.

Outside, Harry Blunt made Anna jump as he put his arm around her.

Want a lift?'

Yes, thanks. That's Irene's ex-husband and her parents,' she said, watching their car go past.

I know,' he said, then burst out: Bastard got fifteen years, will probably serve even less; while that little girl will be twenty-seven years old when he gets out. She's the one with the life sentence.'

Actually, Harry, I think I'm going to walk for a while, but thanks for the offer.'

Up to you.' He started to walk away then stopped. Eh! I heard Langton's backbloody unbelievable. We all thought he was a goner; tough bastard, isn't he?'

She nodded and walked away, not wanting to discuss it or now to ask Harry to help her move the exercise equipment, after all.

Been good working with you, Travis!' he called after her.

She turned and forced a smile. Thanks, Harry.'

Anna knew she would have a couple of days before she was assigned to another enquiry, so decided to put them to good use: maybe take a weekend at a spa and pamper herself. She tried not to think about Langton, but it was very difficult, with her hallway still occupied by his stuff. At home, her answerphone light was blinking; her heart thudded with the expectation of a message from him, but it was Brandon, saying he'd missed her after the trial. The second message was from Mike Lewis, congratulating Langton: he'd just heard the newsit was going round the Met like bushfire! She deleted the messages and then jumped as her doorbell rang.

It was a short square Indian, with a terrible striped sweater. He showed Anna his pick-up order and delivery drop.

She watched the poor man almost give himself a hernia as he carried out the bicycle and then took apart the rowing machine. He said he couldn't take the suitcase, as that was not on his list. Anna grabbed her purse and took out a ten-pound note.

Just take it to the same address, would you?'

He agreed. After he'd left, she opened the kitchen windows for a through draught and lit a scented candle, to reclaim her space. She had to hand it to Langton. He didn't do things by halveswalking out and then hiring the van and driver, without even one call to her. Well, she could be just as cold. There was no way she would contact him now. She was just going to get on with her life and think back to that list she had made about how difficult it was living with him. Well, he was not living with her any moreand she hoped that went round the Met like bushfire!

Chapter Eight.

Tom Adams, the landlord of the property in the New Forest rented by Gail Sickert, had done little with it since she had gone. The partly built henhouse that Sickert had been working on was left boarded up; stacks of planks leaned against it. The chickens had been sold, but Adams still made regular visits to feed the pigs and goat. Finding another tenant was not easy; the bungalow required extensive renovations.

Everything had been left half-attended to, from the manure heap to the broken fences. Children's toys still littered the bare lawn, and the drive had even more potholes due to the heavy rain. Driving his old jeep, as he arrived to feed the animals, Adams crashed the gears as it plunged into a small crater. Swearing, he continued round to the pigsties.

Tipping their food into the troughs, he was thankful that they at least had been left behind. The pigs had come as part of the deal; Gail had agreed to feed them and clear out the walled pens. When the time was right, they, too, would be sold. Adams sloshed through the mud to get the rakes for clearing up the sties, turned on a hose and began to swill down the pens as the pigs gobbled up their food.

Moments later, a patrol car hit the same mud-filled crater as it drove into the yard. Two uniformed local officers got out and approached the stinking pigpens, mindful of the mud and sewage that covered the old cobbled yard.

You found my tenants then, have you?' Adams greeted them, switching off the hose. I was just thinking, at least they didn't take me effing pigs, but they left the place in about the same state. I don't think that woman cleaned the house once since they moved in.' He crossed to a small digger, and climbed up.

Mr Adams? We've had an enquiry about your tenants; have you had any contact from them?'

I'm not likely to, am I? They left owing me two months' rent.'

One of the officers put his hand over his mouth. The stench is terrible,' he said, gagging.

It's worse than usual, 'cos they've not been cleaned out. I was just hosing down the pens before you came.' The man turned, pointing to the manure heap. I'm going to have to shift that over to the back field; they just bloody dumped it! You see the henhouse? They got me to pay for the wood to rebuild itand look at it!' He started up the engine and headed for the manure heap.

The two officers stood around for a few more minutes and then took off, climbing back into the patrol car. They were almost at the end of the drive, when Adams came running after them, waving his arms and hollering at the top of his voice. They pulled up and the officer in the passenger seat rolled down his window.

Jesus Christ, you'd better come back and see what I've found!' he said, then rested his hand against the side of the patrol car and threw up.

The partly decomposed body was minus limbs. But even in the appalling state of mutilation, the body half-caught in the shovel of the digger was obviously a female.

Anna was in bed reading, when the phone rang. It was Brandon. He didn't waste time apologizing for the late-night call.

I thought you'd like to know: the local police sent to check on Gail Sickert reckon they have found her body.'

What?'

Yeah, and it gets worse. They think she may have been partly fed to the pigs; her limbs are missing. They can't be one hundred per cent sure it is her.'

Dear God.'

Yeah. So far, they've not found any remains of her kids. They asked for you to be contacted.'

Why me?'

You called them to check on her whereabouts, right?'

Yesyes, I did.'

Well, they want to see you. They'll also need her mother to identify the remains. You've got her contact numbers, haven't you?'

Yes.'

No need to do anything tonight; call them in the morning. The murder enquiry will be out of our jurisdiction, so nothing more to do with us.'

I'll do that, thanks.'

Anna replaced the phone, and then lay back on her pillow. There was no way she would call Beryl Dunn herself; she would give her details to the station and hopefully that would be all. At the same time, she could not help but feel guilty; it was hard to take in the full horror of what might have taken place. She couldn't get out of her mind the memory of the dirty little child in her play swing.

Unable to sleep, she got up, made herself a cup of tea and telephoned the station in the New Forest. She was told that there was no one she could speak to at that time of night, and that she should call the next morning and ask for a Detective Inspector Brian Mallory. She gave her name, and said that she had been an investigating officer on a murder enquiry dealing with Gail's brother, Arthur Murphy.

I'll pass the message on.'

Has the victim been identified yet?'

I'm unable to give you any details, DI Travis.'

She was afraid he was going to cut her off. Just one momentI also would like to give you a contact number, in case the victim needs to be identified. Mrs Beryl Dunn is Gail Sickert's mother.'

It seemed to take an interminable time for the duty Constable to take down the details. Anna ended up leaving her mobile number with him.

At seven-thirty the following morning, as Anna stepped out of the shower, her mobile phone rang. It was Mallory. He sounded very edgy.

Detective Inspector Travis, I would really appreciate it if you would come to the station first thing this morning. You apparently called last night? I would really like to talk to you.'

Have you managed to contact Beryl Dunn?'

Not as yet.'

Has anyone identified the victim?'

No, and we have as yet not found any other remains.'

Thank God.'

There was a pause. Detective Travis, the victim is still at the site. Could you meet me there?'

Is it necessary?'

Yes, it is. We have got a management team organized. How soon can you get here? It's just I would like as much information as possible, before an MIT team comes on board.'

Anna said she would meet him at ten, which gave her plenty of time to drive there. She wasn't stupid; she knew they were unable to say whether or not the body was Gail Sickert. That's what they needed her for; only then would they contact a relative for a formal ID.

Nowadays, the police system was run so differently from the way it had been in the past. Most local police stations dealt with traffic, burglary and any locally connected crime; murder was now only dealt with by a qualified and experienced team of specially trained detectives. An incident room would be set up at the local station and used as a base by the new team. Pathologists and forensic scientists would be brought in as quickly as possible. Anna hoped that by the time she did get to the bungalow, the murder team would be in motion and she could therefore get away as soon as possible.

The rain was lashing down and the drive to the bungalow awash; a number of patrol cars were parked up on the edges. She drove through the puddles and potholes as far as she could before a uniformed officer, wearing a cape, signalled for her to stop. She gave her name and said that she was here to meet Detective Inspector Brian Mallory. She was directed round to the back yard and asked to leave her car parked in the designated area.

Anna was glad she had put her Wellington boots and umbrella into the passenger seat-well. She wove her way round thick pools of mud and slime, and approached the yellow police crime scene cordons. She could see a lot of white-suited forensic officers moving in and around the area, their wagon parked up. The digger had been moved back and they were erecting a big white tent to cover the partly dug manure heap.

Is Detective Inspector Mallory here?' she asked a female officer, who was standing with a big black umbrella.

Far side of the piggery, under the tarpaulin,' she said.

Anna skirted around the crime scene ribbons towards the makeshift shelter. The officers were huddled together, as the rain was now even worse. Parked over to one side, away from the action, was the catering truck known as Teapot One.

Anna ducked beneath the tarpaulin and shook her umbrella outside.

Hi, are you Detective Inspector Travis?'

Anna gave a tight smile. Yes, I'm DI Travis. Are you DI Mallory?'

Yes.' Mallory was a thick-set man with iron-grey cropped hair and a red face with puffy cheeks. He reached out a big, thick-fingered hand to shake hers. Thanks for coming; you want a coffee or tea?'

No, thank you.' She looked around. This is pretty grim.'