The rain continued to fall, and its relentless percussion grew louder as they slipped between the trees. There was marginally more shelter underneath the canopy, but the drops that found them were thicker, heavier, as indeed was the atmosphere more generally in the woods. Amid the undergrowth it was even harder to see than it had been in the clearing, and there was a sense of the gloom pressing in.
Fleet shivered, suddenly feeling the cold. His boots and his jacket may have been waterproof, but his trousers weren’t, and the wool clung wetly to his skin.
“What’s the point of this place, anyway?” said Nicky, as they wove their way between the trees. “The clearing, I mean. The buildings. Is it a farm or what? Or did it used to be, rather.”
“I’m not sure I ever knew it was here,” said Fleet, ducking to avoid a branch. “There were barley fields on the other side of the main road back in the day, and the access path would probably have been wide enough then for that tractor. So it was probably a farmer’s store or something, if not a farm exactly. Unless it was just somebody’s idea of a country retreat.” He glanced Nicky’s way. “It’s probably up for grabs if you’re interested,” he added.
Nicky shuddered in response.
“What? Not a fan of country living?” said Fleet.
“I don’t mind the country. So long as it’s paved. With street lighting. And there’s somewhere I can get a decent latte. Oh, and there are no cows.” Nicky checked across her shoulder, as though on the off chance something bovine might have crept up behind her.
Fleet felt the glitch in his step. “Cows,” he echoed. “You’re afraid of cows?”
“Not afraid, exactly. Just . . . wary. It’s the way they look at you. Like they’re planning something.”
Fleet laughed. “What is it that a cow might be planning?”
“Exactly,” said Nicky, deadpan. “That’s the part I don’t like.”
About ten meters in, they paused. Fleet cast around, and was astonished to see how utterly the clearing was already lost to view. If you leaned to catch the right sightline, you could just about make out the buildings, like icebergs spotted through a fog. But otherwise it was as though they’d stepped through a wardrobe and into a completely different world. The search teams out here must have had a hell of a job.
Fleet tried to recapture that sensation he’d had before, that there was somebody out here watching him. But now, other than Nicky, he would have sworn he was completely alone.
He looked up. “The kids,” he said. “Sadie’s friends. They talked about climbing trees when they were younger. Right?”
Nicky nodded. “They mentioned it once or twice. Why? Are you getting an urge to reenact your youth?” She looked at the tree that was closest to them, barely more than a sapling, and then, brazenly, at Fleet’s belly. “Because no offense, boss, but we might want to look around for something sturdier.”
Fleet frowned at her. “Is that a comment about my weight, Detective Sergeant?”
Nicky shrugged ruefully. “There’s a reason you’ve stopped taking sugar in your coffee. And again, no offense, boss, but if you were expecting me to follow you up, and one of those branches were to suddenly give way . . . Well. Let’s just say I’m not overly keen on the idea of wearing your arse cheeks as a hat.”
Fleet gave a snort. He returned to scanning the branches high above him. “Actually, I was mainly wondering what the view would be like from up there. And how often those search teams would have thought to look up.”
Nicky looked where he was looking, wincing at the raindrops in her eyes. “Hardly at all, I would imagine,” she said. “Especially in this weather. As for the view . . .” She shrugged. “We can take a look for ourselves if it’s important to you?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Fleet. “To be honest, even if I weren’t so . . . calorifically challenged, I’ve never been the biggest fan of heights.”
“Really?” said Nicky. “I didn’t know that.”
“It’s not something I tend to boast about. But there’s a reason my bedsit is on the ground floor, and why I always used to insist to Holly, whenever she suggested we go on holiday, that we went somewhere we could drive.”
At the mention of Holly, Nicky looked away. Until Fleet had spoken to Anne about his marriage, Nicky had been the only person—at least as far as Fleet knew—who was aware that he and his wife had separated. And even then, Fleet had never discussed it openly. With Nicky, he simply hadn’t tried to hide it.
“Well,” said Nicky, “for everyone’s sake, let’s hope we’re never asked to find a cow that’s gone missing up a mountain.”
Fleet smiled. “Knowing cows, it would probably be a trap.” He cast around again, all at once convinced that he was wasting what precious time they had.
“See now, look,” said Nicky, and she wandered a few meters deeper into the woods. “If you were going to climb a tree, you’d want to pick one more like this. It’s practically a spiral staircase. And look at those branches. They’re thick enough that they’d probably even hold . . .” Nicky stopped herself, but not before she’d turned in Fleet’s direction.
“A cow?” suggested Fleet.
Nicky grinned. “Right.”
She began walking around the trunk of the chestnut. Fleet looked at his watch. “You’ve officially humored me, Detective Sergeant. I think we can probably wrap this—”
“Boss?”
Nicky was on the other side of the tree. Fleet moved to try to see what had caught her attention. “What is it?”
“Look. There. Is that . . .”
Fleet circled the trunk and crouched down next to her. They looked where Nicky was pointing, and then at each other. Nicky struggled with the zip of her waterproof, and pulled out a pen. She used it to nudge what at first glance Fleet had assumed was a leaf.
“A Snickers wrapper,” he said, realizing what he was
