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search warrant had arrived.

Scott was showing the stress of the last few hours, as they all were, but in Scott’s case this manifested as a boyish dishevelment and a slackening of his tie, rather than, as in Bram’s, sweat marks under the arms and lingering body odour.

‘Max will be released imminently,’ Scott said finally, coming into the room and dropping onto a chair by the door. ‘I think it’s best you all come back to our place, for now.’

‘Can’t we go home?’ asked Kirsty. ‘To Woodside?’

‘Not just yet. In light of this new evidence, the SOCOs will be going back there. But in the next few days, you should be able to return.’

‘What about the Taylors?’ said Bram. ‘Have they been told about David’s arrest?’

‘Yes. I told them myself. I don’t think you’ll have any more trouble with them. David… He’s well known for having a short fuse. I don’t think any blame will attach by proxy to any of you.’ Scott sighed. ‘What a bloody mess. I should have… God. I know what David’s like. When you were being harassed, one thing after another, and David was building up a head of steam… I should have seen the signs. I should have stepped in.’

So Scott probably did know about Owen?

‘What could you have done?’ Bram said mechanically. ‘You couldn’t have locked him up because you suspected he might commit a crime some time in the future.’

Scott grimaced. ‘No, but…’

‘It’s not your fault,’ Kirsty said, almost impatiently. ‘When can we see Max?’

Scott’s wife, Amy, was kindness itself, moving their little boy into their own bedroom so that Max could have a room of his own and not have to share with Phoebe. The little boy, five-year-old Stuart, was a perfect gentleman, solemnly offering Phoebe a range of toys which he thought she might like as she didn’t have any of her own with her.

The gesture made Phoebe cry, sitting on Linda’s lap in the conservatory as Stuart set a large drawing pad and crayons down on the table in front of her.

‘Mummy says you like drawing,’ he said uncertainly.

‘Thank you,’ sniffed Phoebe.

Scott and Amy lived in a grand Victorian house on Woodlands Terrace, set back from the road and screened from it by a huge garden filled with mature trees. It was wall-to-wall original features and amazing old fireplaces.

When Scott came home that afternoon, he asked to speak to Kirsty, Bram and Linda privately, and showed them into a panelled study overlooking the lawn at the back of the house. Scott sat in the swivel chair behind the desk, Linda and Kirsty in leather tub chairs by the fireplace, and Bram perched on the arm of Kirsty’s chair.

‘David has been charged with assault and perverting the course of justice, and released,’ Scott said, smiling uncertainly, as if not sure what kind of reaction was appropriate to this news.

Kirsty had gone pale. ‘But DI Cromer – she said he’d be charged with murder.’

‘That was before we realised that the rest of the petcam footage gives him a watertight alibi for the remainder of the night and the next day, so there’s no way he could have gone back and disposed of the body before the search began in the woods.’

Linda made a little sound. ‘Oh, thank God!’

‘That’s great,’ said Kirsty hollowly.

‘But I gave him an alibi for the rest of the night and the next day,’ Linda added.

Scott nodded. ‘But your evidence – I’m sorry, Linda, but the evidence of a spouse isn’t seen to be impartial. That of Bertie-cam, however… Bertie slept in your room with the two of you, and the petcam footage proves that David didn’t leave the room until you both got up in the morning. And it shows David getting his breakfast, pottering about the kitchen and so on. Taking Bertie for a walk.’

‘Well, thank goodness for the petcam,’ Bram managed.

‘Where is Dad?’ said Kirsty.

‘He’s in the car outside. I thought it might be better if I, uh, broke the good news first.’

Bram felt his heart start to pound. David must be furious with him and Kirsty for taking that petcam footage to the police.

Linda got to her feet.

‘I’ll go and get him,’ said Scott, also rising. ‘I just have to tell you that we’re not out of the woods yet, so to speak.’ He grimaced at the unintended pun. ‘David’s admitted to the charge of perverting the course of justice. An airgun was found in your garage, Linda. A .22 Winchester 55 RS. Wrapped in a towel and shoved under a pile of logs.’

‘Finn’s?’ said Bram.

‘David admits as much, and it’s the same make and model as the air rifle owned by Andrew Taylor, the one the Taylors say Finn took with him that night. Finn’s idea, apparently, was to take potshots at the security lights on your verandah. The rifle is currently undergoing forensic examination.’

‘Surely that’s not necessary, if David admits to the altercation and – hiding the rifle?’ Linda said in a low voice. ‘And surely the assault charge won’t stick? Finn was terrorising the family. For David to suddenly come upon a masked man in the wood, a man with a gun… He must have reacted instinctively. It was surely self-defence.’

‘They were grappling,’ Bram added. ‘David got the gun off him and hit out with it. It was a natural reaction.’

Kirsty said nothing.

Scott got up from his chair and walked to the window, and then turned to face them. The bright light behind him made it impossible to read his expression. ‘It’s not just the assault charge he has to worry about. I have to tell you that DI Cromer still likes David for the murder.’

‘What?’ Bram’s heart leapt.

‘It’s those couple of minutes when David went back into the wood, off camera, that are proving the stumbling block. The post mortem on Finn has revealed that he was struck multiple times with at least two different objects, one blunt, presumably the stock of the air rifle, and the other weapon or weapons

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