vanished.
“Doug,” she said. “He called you. In fact, he called you first.”
Cullen had the grace to look abashed. “It was just in case this turned out to be something more than a false alarm. In on the ground floor and all that. Sorry if it’s buggered your holiday, Gemma.”
She glared at him, then relented with a reluctant sigh. Kincaid had only done what she’d have done in his place, and it certainly wasn’t Doug’s fault. “I think you’ll find he wants you straightaway.” She gestured towards the path. “I hope you don’t have a problem with water.”
“Not unless I’m in it,” Doug answered, sounding relieved.
Gemma thought of the huddled form, pulled from the tangle of flotsam in the river, and shuddered. She must have inadvertently squeezed Charlotte, who said, “Ow,” and wriggled down from Gemma’s arms. “Want to see Melody,” she added, but stayed leaning against Gemma’s leg. Charlotte was very definite about the people she liked, and Melody was one of them, but she still suffered from attacks of shyness.
Melody knelt so that she was on Charlotte’s level. “Hi, sweetheart. Are you having an adventure?”
“I want to see the river,” Charlotte pronounced unexpectedly. “Kit says there’s a river. Is it big?”
Nonplussed, Gemma glanced at Melody, who mouthed, “Sorry.”
“We can’t see the river today, lovey,” Gemma told Charlotte. “It’s getting late, and the dogs must be missing us dreadfully at home.”
Melody stood and gave Charlotte’s curls a ruffle. “You’ll have to visit Doug in Putney.” She gave Cullen a sly glance and got a frown in return, making Gemma wonder what she had missed.
“I’d better get down there,” said Doug. “Thanks for the lift, Melody.” He gave them an awkward little wave and disappeared down the path.
Gemma turned back to Melody. “What—”
“Where’s Doug going?” piped up Charlotte. “Don’t want Doug to go.”
“Mummy,” whined Toby, “I want to get out. Everyone else is out.”
Gemma rolled her eyes at Melody. “We really have got to go. Nuclear meltdown approaching.” Suddenly disheartened by the idea of arriving home on her own with three disappointed children, she added, “Why don’t you come to the house when we get back to London, if you’re not doing anything? We’ll get pizza or something. Have a good natter.”
Melody smiled. “Deal. I’ll bring the wine.”
Kincaid had taken a few moments to fill in Cullen, to have another word with Rashid, and to work out a strategic plan.
When the SAR handler, Kieran, had insisted on going with them to see the rowing shell, his teammate, Tavie, had chimed in that as team leader she was needed on scene as well. It was her job to tell the team watching the boat to stand down, once the police had the area secured.
But the dog handlers had left their cars on the Berks side of the river, halfway between Leander and the weir. With the daylight fading, there wasn’t time for them to walk back, pick up their cars, and drive round through Henley to the site on the Bucks bank where the shell had been found.
DI Singla, however, had looked so horrified at the suggestion that the handlers and dogs ride with him that Kincaid had jumped in. “Ride with me. I’ve plenty of room.”
“Thanks,” replied Tavie. “We’ll get a lift back round the other side once we’re finished.” Leaving Rashid and the SOCOs to deal with the removal of the body to the mortuary van, the others traversed the walkway back across the river, single file. Bringing up the rear, Kincaid felt a bit like the tenth Indian, but he was impressed by the dogs’ easy nonchalance as they crossed over the rushing water of the weir.
When they reached the verge, Cullen looked askance at the Astra. “This is yours? Since when?”
“Shut it,” Kincaid said cheerfully. “It was a gift from my dad. And already useful. You even get to ride in the front.”
Tavie, however, glanced at the car with approval. “Great. We’ll put the dogs in the storage area. This is Tosh, by the way,” she added, reaching down to stroke the German shepherd’s head. “And this is Finn.” She gestured towards the Lab as Kincaid opened the rear hatch. “Kieran, can you—”
“Oh, right.” The dark-haired handler led his dog round to the back of the Astra, and the Lab jumped in on command, as did Tavie’s German shepherd. But the man seemed dazed, and Kincaid had noticed an edge in Tavie’s voice when she spoke to him. There was definitely some tension between the two.
“Just as well you won’t have doggie breath down your necks,” Tavie said as she and Kieran got into the rear seat. “Although it’s not far. Do you know the way?”
“Only that it must be back towards Henley.”
“I’ll direct you, then, but”—she glanced dubiously at Doug in his suit and light overcoat—“it’s a good walk from where we’ll have to leave the car.”
Kincaid suppressed a grin. He’d drawn the lucky straw that day, it seemed, having dressed for sloshing in mud puddles with the children. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”
He motioned for Singla to follow them in his own car, then turned left towards Henley when the constable controlling the traffic cleared an opening for them.
Kincaid caught intermittent glimpses of the river, then the road moved away from the water as it ran through a cluster of buildings that Tavie identified as the village of Greenlands. After that there were plowed fields to the right and tree-dotted meadows to the left. Soon, Tavie directed him to turn into what looked like a drive leading to a private estate. Two serviceable utility vehicles were parked just beyond the open gate, as was a Thames Valley panda car. All were unoccupied.
“This is the closest access,” Tavie explained. “We’ll have to cross the meadows on foot.”
Cullen looked down at his shoes and muttered, “Bugger.”
Kieran was out of the car before Kincaid had even popped the hatch on the storage area. Within seconds, he had his dog on the ground and had started across the field at an oblique angle to the river. He looked back at them impatiently. “We’ve got to hurry. The light’s going.”
“Can’t we stay on the track?” asked Cullen.
“No.” Pointing, Tavie added, “We’ve got to cross this field, and the next. You can come in from the other side of Temple Island, but that’s even farther, and wouldn’t be any drier.” She snapped the lead on her dog and started after Kieran.
As soon as Kincaid felt the soft, tussocky grass squish beneath his trainers, he felt some sympathy for Cullen—and for DI Singla, who was no better prepared. But Kieran had been right about the light. The hedgerow in the distance, and the tree line beyond that, were becoming gray-green blurs on a gray horizon.
Although the dogs hadn’t been given a command to search, they were eager, seeming to sense that they were engaged in work of some kind. Tavie and Kieran kept up with them at a steady trot, while the others straggled out at intervals, this time with Singla bringing up the rear.
What had looked like a hedgerow from a distance turned out to be an inlet snaking in from the river, which they crossed by a single-planked footbridge. By the time they’d crossed the second field, Kincaid’s feet were soaked and he was beginning to sweat, despite the chill in the air. Ahead lay the heavy belt of vegetation he had seen from the lane. They’d been following a faint track through the grass, but when the dogs and handlers reached the trees, they veered towards the river and plunged directly into the dense thicket.
Kincaid heard dogs bark, and an answering chorus. Then, as he pushed his way through branches, snagging his anorak, he heard human voices as well. As Cullen and Singla crashed along behind him, he pushed through into a small clearing right on the river’s edge.
Tavie stood with two uniformed constables and a man and a woman who wore dark Thames Valley Search and Rescue uniforms. Tosh, her German shepherd, was nosing greetings with a springer spaniel and a golden retriever, both of whom wore the distinctive orange SAR vests.
Kieran, with Finn, had gone straight to the water’s edge.
Tavie motioned to Kincaid. “Superintendent, this is Scott and Sarah. And Bumps and Meg,” she added, giving the spaniel and the retriever affectionate pats. “They found the boat.”
DI Singla was murmuring to the uniformed officers, but Kincaid looked at Kieran, who had knelt, his body obscuring the object of his attention. Kieran had dropped Finn’s lead, but the dog sat beside him, watching his master with what Kincaid could have sworn was a furrowed brow.
Walking over, Kincaid hunkered down until his shoulder was almost touching Kieran’s.
