Alex’s expression darkened. “That puts a different complexion on matters. Still, the islanders won’t like it.”
“They’re going to like the fact that one of their own has been brutally murdered a hell of a lot less.” He wasn’t prepared to be compromising. “Find Rob and Mark, drag them out of bed with your bare hands if you have to, but for God’s sake get them down to the beach. I want names and licence plates for all cars approaching or leaving.”
He paused, remembered Liz.
“Mark – is that Mark Bowers?”
Alex nodded. “He volunteers once or twice a week with the coastguard. The rest of the time, he manages the Heritage Centre and gift shop, does history tours.”
“You need to tell him that the Centre will be closed for business today. There won’t be any visitors coming up here. Tell him not to pester Liz Morgan, either. She won’t be in for work at the gift shop.”
His eyes sombre, Alex nodded and headed off.
Satisfied that the wheels were in motion, Ryan opted to ring Gregson’s PA and leave a message. He knew it was cowardly but he could do without discussing the merits and demerits of closing off an entire island to the general public. It wasn’t up for debate.
CHAPTER 2
Ryan was standing guard over Lucy’s body when Detective Sergeant Frank Phillips arrived with two crime scene officers in tow. Ryan recognised them as Tom Faulkner and his assistant. The CSI’s paused for a brief word before heading straight into the tent where Lucy waited. Ryan turned back to his sergeant. Phillips was a short barrel of a man with a boxer’s physique and a weather-beaten face. He wore the dark grey suit badly but, oddly, the pale pink tie with yellow polka dots suited him.
“Ryan,” he clasped a strong hand around Ryan’s and pumped it enthusiastically, using the other to give him a clap on the shoulder. “Great to see you again.”
Ryan didn’t take offence at the lack of formality. He might have been the man’s superior in rank, but he was a good fifteen years younger than Phillips and had been brought up to respect his elders. There had been times in the early days when he’d had to assert himself, but experience had worn down the prickly edges to leave a smooth friendship and an even smoother working relationship.
“You too, Frank.” He realised he meant it.
“Wish it had been over a pint rather than picking over something like this,” Phillips shook his head in disgust. “Dispatch gave me the basics. Never fails to amaze me what some bastards will do.” His twinkling brown eyes were sharp as he took in the scene which was now protected by plastic that flapped in the wind.
Phillips looked back at the tall man in front of him and thought he looked tired and thinner than he had a few months ago. Still, there was a spark back in his eyes which was encouraging. “Heard from Gregson,” he added, and watched Ryan’s face turn slowly, expectantly. He admired the way Ryan’s movements always seemed unhurried.
“He gave me the rundown, told me you’re back on full duty.”
Ryan remained silent, his eyes veiled.
Phillips chuckled slightly, reading him perfectly. “Glad you’re back. Couldn’t stand much more shit from MacKenzie.”
Ryan nearly smiled. It was no secret that things were touchy between DS Phillips and Detective Inspector Denise MacKenzie. It didn’t help that MacKenzie was a strong, attractive woman with a crown of glowing red hair and a temper to match her heritage. It was also no secret that Frank Phillips had been circling round asking her out for the full five years since his wife died.
“Gotta bite that bullet someday, Frank.”
“Don’t know what the hell you’re on about.” He scuffed a worn loafer against the moss and scowled.
Ryan’s lips quirked but sobered instantly when he saw an older man weaving through the stones on the far side of the Priory graveyard, dressed for country weather in a dark green waxed jacket and well-worn boots. The small black case he carried with him was an unmistakable signal that he was the island’s doctor. He watched the man pause amongst the grave stones to speak to Alex. Ryan could see the family resemblance between the older man and his son.
“Forensics will give us a better idea but I’m reckoning she’s been dead no more than five hours,” he said to Phillips.
“There was rain last night, though,” Phillips watched the progress of the doctor as he lumbered up the slight incline. Both Phillips and Ryan knew that the rain washed away all kinds of sins, including DNA evidence.
“I know, Frank. I’m hoping that we can preserve anything that’s left.” His face was grim.