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  Yvonne considered for a moment. She knew that wind farms had proliferated over the hills and moors of Mid-Wales over the previous two decades. She tapped her pen against her hand as she spoke. "The proposed wind farm extension at Mochdre would not have surprised the locals. What angered them, was the suggested site, much closer to the town than they had hoped. They worried about the effect it would have on walkers and visitors to the area, the town's own population and some of its historic trees. What does the company do?"

  "A Wales-based company, known as Futurecon, it has been in the energy business for the last eighteen years. It started out in the nuclear industry, but over the last decade has moved into the renewable energy sphere."

  "Who owns it?"

  "A female CEO, name of Serena Wellbrook, forty-four years of age and from Sussex. She lives about an hour from here in Cwm Einion... that is, Artist's Valley."

  "That's close to Aberystwyth."

  "That's right, it's on the road to Aber from Machynlleth, via Talesin. Anyway, she's quite hands-on and has been down here several times to speak to protesters, herself."

  "Okay, well, we should talk to her and to those involved in protesting with Terry. Dai? What's the matter? You're pulling a face."

  "Well, ma'am, if we are dealing with a serial killer, then aren't we wasting time talking to locals? I mean, a killer could target the area and not care about any of this. Someone passing through here, a travelling salesman or lorry driver, perhaps."

  "Agreed." Yvonne pursed her lips. "But I doubt it and I doubt it is a coincidence that the killer targeted eco warriors. Consider the letter sent in to the Powys Times. Why do that? Why send it to a local paper and not a national paper? A random killer wanting attention would want the maximum attention possible and that would be from the nation. It wouldn't be a warning addressed to local, Welsh environmental protesters. I will stake my reputation on my suspicion that this killer is from the area or connected to the local community and they have a personal issue with eco warriors. The rest is a smokescreen."

  Dai folded his arms, unconvinced.

  "Look, Dai, come with me. We'll go see Ms Wellbrook and get her take on what has been happening on her sites. Set the meeting up, would you?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Serena Wellbrook cut an imposing figure, in her double-cuffed, stiff white shirt and grey skirt. Her matching jacket hung on a hook on the right wall of her spacious, light-filled office. The space was an extension to her impressive country home on the side of the spectacular Cwm Einion valley.

  Yvonne doubted the CEO had ever wobbled about a decision in her life. Glasses pushed atop her auburn, shoulder-length hair she appeared as though she would brook no argument and visited the gym at least once a week, too, given the biceps which somewhat stretched the material of her blouse. Her face was impeccable, emphasising attractive, strong features.

  Yvonne cleared her throat, feeling somewhat dowdy, as Serena showed her to a leather couch, at right angles to the window-wall.

  "Can I get you anything?" Serena placed her hands on her hips in a superhero stance.

  "Er, no. Thank you."

  "Are you sure? I have coffee. It's just percolated." Her voice was as strong as her appearance.

  Yvonne put her bag down on the floor, next to her feet. "In that case, yes, I would love a cup. No sugar, thank you."

  Serena's heels clicked along the floor to the other side of the office.

  Yvonne's gaze wandered the room. Tasteful, oversized prints added interest to the slick, modern furniture her expensive designer had placed exactly so. The room was neat and organised. The DI thought of CID. No comparison.

  The shoes clicked-clacked back to her.

  "There. One hot coffee and a wafer." Serena smiled. It appeared genuine. She seated herself on the couch, at a forty-five degree angle to Yvonne. "Now, what can I do for you?"

  "I came to talk to you about your wind farm sites, near Newtown."

  "What about them?"

  The DI sipped her coffee, before placing it on a side table next to her. "I understand you've had an issue with ongoing protests against the extension?"

  Serena sighed. "Protestors. They get everywhere and with little understanding of what it is they are protesting." She threw the last like daggers.

  "They make you angry?"

  "Yes, they make me bloody angry. We have to factor in the business risk and costs of those protestors. Do you understand? The permissions will go through anyway, it'll just cost a lot more in time, effort and money. Those protestors cause physical damage to equipment and fencing, not to mention the emotional impact they have upon my staff."

  "They believe in what they are doing." Yvonne narrowed her eyes.

  "You are aware, Inspector, that our energy plans are environment-friendly?"

  "I am aware, just as you are, that that is not the issue, it's where you are siting them which causes..." The DI's voice trailed off.

  "You sound as though you agree with them." Serena frowned.

  "I'm sorry if that is how it comes across. Let me assure you that I am not picking sides here."

  "Conventional, energy production processes are not only worse for the environment, they are a potential target for terror attacks. They can blow pipelines and nuclear plants up, and sabotage them, which would be disastrous for the communities. We have to have alternatives."

  "I understand." Yvonne nodded. "I wanted to ask you about the protests at Mochdre."

  "What about them?" Serena surveyed the DI with a cool expression in her green eyes.

  "We found a young man called Terry Lloyd murdered near a site he had been protesting at."

  Serena looked away to the window. "I heard about that."

  Yvonne couldn't see the CEO's expression, only the still head, held high. "Did you know him?"

  "Not that I am aware. I mean, I have been down there to speak to the protestors myself." She turned to Yvonne. "I don't believe in hiding away. I like to meet adversity head-on. Take the fight to them. Let them know who it is they are dealing with."

  "But you don't remember him? I can show you a photograph-"

  "No need. His image has been all over the news, along with others, unconnected to any of my sites."

  "Do you operate security?"

  “I do have security teams who man the sites. We don't man all the sites, but when we do, it is usually one or two guards and maybe dogs. Again, that depends on where the sites are and how much difficulty we expect in keeping them secure."

  "CCTV?"

  Serena nodded. "We have cameras at many of the sites, but not at Mochdre, I'm afraid."

  "Why not?"

  "We didn't need them."

  "Were guards on duty there?"

  Serena shook her head. "Not until we put in the turbines."

  "I see."

  "There is high metal fencing and billboards, and equipment for digging and heavy lifting. No actual work has started there, yet."

  "Do you know of anyone from your company who interacted with Terry Lloyd and would hurt him?"

  "No, Inspector."

  "And you are sure that you didn't interact with him, yourself?"

  "Sure."

  Yvonne finished her coffee and picked her bag up from the floor.

  Serena sighed. "I am sorry about what happened to that young man. I may get angry at the waste caused by protestors, but I wouldn't dream of hurting one and I am sorry that that young man lost his life, and in such a gruesome way. If I hear of anything, even if it involves members of my staff, I will inform you. Okay? I'm not trying to make your job more difficult."

  Yvonne held out her hand. Serena appeared sincere. She liked her. Under different circumstances, perhaps they would be friends. "Thank you for speaking with me."

  Serena shook the DI's outstretched hand. "You're welcome."

  19

  Karen’s home truths

  Although the early summer sky was peppered with thicket-like white cloud, the sun stayed out a remar
kable percentage of the time. Yvonne checked her watch. Karen would arrive at any moment, excited children at her heels.

  She finished gutting fresh trout and washed her hands before checking on the potatoes cooking in the microwave. Yvonne intended making a hot potato salad, with mayo and copious quantities of cracked black pepper. The fresh salad, which she had prepared earlier, sat in the fridge and would only require its lemon and olive oil dressing before serving. A few uncooked sausages and burgers sat in a covered tray next to the barbecue. The utensils were ready. She was ready. She decided not to light it before they arrived, in case something delayed them.

  When the car swung into the drive, windows down, music playing, and children singing, Yvonne smiled a broad and heart-felt smile. She couldn't wait to see them.

  "Tom! Sally!" She ran towards the vehicle, arms wide.

  First Sally, then Tom, asked her to swing them around and around. She kissed them both on their foreheads. "My goodness, you have grown, the pair of you." She grinned at them.

  "I'm nearly seven." Tom beamed at her.

  "Seven? Is that right? Wow. That's so grown-up."

  Tom smiled as he and his sister set off around the garden to find treasure.

  Yvonne turned her attention to her sister.

  Karen had an armful of bags and a bouquet of mixed flowers, which she was trying to hold on to with her teeth.

  Yvonne laughed. "Gracious, sis, let me take some of that off you."

  "Thanks." Karen said as the DI freed her from the flowers. "They're for you. I hope I haven't squished them too much." Karen put her bags down and smoothed her crumpled, flower-patterned cotton dress, before picking them up again.

  "They're beautiful." Yvonne grabbed two of Karen's bags with one hand. "Come on. We'll get these to your rooms and light the barbecue."

  "What is it, sis?"

  Having eaten most of the food, Yvonne and Karen relaxed back in the garden chairs under the awning, with a glass of wine, while the children played bat-and-ball together.

  "What do you mean?" Yvonne took another sip of wine and turned her attention from the hills in the distance to her sister.

  "You look preoccupied and a little lost. Sad... I think."

  Yvonne grimaced. "Oh, Karen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."

  "Hey, it's fine. I didn't think you were rude, I was just worried about you. Is something up? Is it a case?"

  Yvonne tilted her head. "I am working on a difficult and baffling case, but I am trying not to think about it while I have you guys here."

  "Are you working on the crucifixion murders?"

  "Yes."

  "I knew you would be." Karen squeezed her hand. "It's dominating the news. I imagine that's a lot of pressure."

  "It is." Yvonne turned her head away, her eyes downcast.

  "There's something else." Karen leaned forward in her chair, trying to make eye contact with Yvonne, again. "Yvonne?"

  The DI sipped more wine.

  "Talk to me." Karen looked across to where her children were playing. They were in their own world and paying no heed.

  Yvonne sighed, biting on her lip. "It's Tasha. I'm worried about her."

  "Oh?" Karen set down her glass on the table. "What's happened?"

  "It's her dad, Karen. He's... he's dying. Pancreatic cancer. It's very advanced, and he is in the final stages. He's in a hospice in Canterbury."

  "Oh, gosh. I'm sorry. Poor Tasha."

  "I feel like I should be there to support her. If I wasn't working such a difficult case, I would have gone down there by now."

  "Well, I'm sure she knows you would be there." Karen rubbed her sister's arm. "She knows what it is like for you."

  Yvonne nodded.

  "You miss her, don't you?"

  Yvonne rubbed her chin, her chest heaved in and out. "I do."

  "Did she tell you when she'll be back?"

  Yvonne shrugged. "I shouldn't wish for her to come back soon. When she returns, it will be because her father has passed away."

  Karen sighed. "I see."

  "I've been keeping an eye on her place. It's odd, going there without her."

  "You love her, don't you?" Karen's voice was soft.

  "What do you mean?" Yvonne asked, her head flicking back to her sister, the colour rising in her cheeks.

  Karen reached for her wine glass, her brow furrowed as though searching for the right words. "She loves you. I can tell she does. I've seen you together... Well... I don't think I have ever seen you look so relaxed and happy." Karen's head tilted, eyes flickering as though she were trying to gauge the impact of her words.

  "Do you mean happy like I was with David?" Yvonne asked, referring to her late husband.

  "Happier." Karen grimaced, as though expecting an admonition from her sister.

  Yvonne said nothing, but her body was still as she held her breath.

  "She's gay, isn't she? I mean, you've never said, but I can read the signs."

  "You don't miss a trick, Karen. Too astute for your own good." Yvonne gave a wry smile

  "And she upended her life in London to follow you down here. I mean, that suggests deep friendship... only, I suspected it was more than that."

  Yvonne played with the stem of her glass.

  "Has she ever said anything to you?"

  The DI looked at the ground, running her eyes over the gravel. "She kissed me once."

  "I knew it." Karen grinned. "And?"

  "And, what?" Yvonne looked up at her.

  "What was it like? What did you feel?"

  "I don't know." Yvonne shrugged. "I liked it... I guess." She frowned, worried how that might go down.

  "You guess?"

  "I liked it."

  "So, what happened? Did you get cold feet?"

  "I'm not-"

  "Not what? Gay? Come on, sis. You know I'm not about labels. It doesn't matter what people identify themselves as. It's about what they feel in their heart. You care about people. I'm not surprised that you could fall in love with her. It's always been about the person with you and she is a lovely person, and she's very attractive." Karen grinned. "The only reason you haven't confessed to her, is that you haven't yet confessed to yourself. Once you own the words in your mind, you'll be there."

  "Does that make me bi-?"

  "Who cares? What does it matter? I thought there had to be a reason you walked away from dating your DCI. Especially, after everything you said he had going for him. I thought, hmm, what's going on?"

  Yvonne laughed. "Oh, did you?"

  "So, what are you going to do now?"

  "What do you mean, what am I going to do?"

  "What I mean is, are you going to say something to her?"

  "No. I can't do that." Yvonne shook her head.

  "Why not?"

  "I just can't. Anyway, I don't even know if she still feels the same and it would be too much for me to ask her."

  "Do you love her?"

  Yvonne swallowed. "Yes. Yes, I do." Something burst in her mind, an explosion of absolute clarity. "I think I loved her from the moment I was irritated at her desk appearing in the corner of my office, when I was still in Oxford and I couldn't take my eyes off her. I resented her, but I couldn't help noticing everything: the light in her chocolate hair, the amusement in her dark eyes, the softness of her shirt, and how she was always there, looking out for me. She'd bring me hot soup in a flask if I was out on a late stint. You know, I never considered all of that together, until now."

  "Well then, you ought to say something. For the sake of your sanity, if nothing else. Don't let pride stop you from going with your heart, Yvonne. I want so much to see you happy and you've been on your own for far too long."

  At that moment, Tom and Sally came running up to them. "Will you come and play ball with us, mummy? Aunty Yvonne?"

  Yvonne laughed. "Yes, yes, we will." She flicked her sister an apologetic glance.

  "Say something." Karen ordered, before running after her children.


  20

  Spectres

  A hint of damp infused the cottage. It followed her from room to room like a cape. She threw open all the windows and allowed the gusty breeze to billow in, breathing deep the smell of boats and nets and fish and holidays.

  The sliding door was a little stiff, perhaps in need of oil, as she opened it to access the dunes to the beach. The wind caught her clothing and wrapped her hair around her head as she fought to take the strands out of her mouth and eyes.

  In the distance, she saw Tasha alone on the beach, arms outstretched towards the sea, then falling to the sand, her shoulders shaking in violent sobs.

  Yvonne ran, sand and wind weighing her down, holding her back, her legs heavy.

  "Tasha?" She called out, but the wind caught the words and carried them in the wrong direction.

  The grieving woman paid her no heed.

  "Tasha?" She threw her arms around the hunched form, but felt only the wind and spray as she fell to the sand.

  She looked up and down the beach. No-one there. She shook her head, tears rolling down her face, fingers digging into the soft, wet sand. And then it changed.

  She was running alone through the forest. Searching for a way out. Looking for safety, but instead came across a male and female. Fastened to trees. Limp. Heads fallen forward and blood pouring down their cheeks. Though her gut clenched and her body trembled, she ran to save them, fighting to move her feet; dragging herself forward.

  Their heads moved in unison, lifting to stare at her with gaunt faces and blackened eyes. She stopped in her tracks.

  "Help us." They screamed in unison, the utterance as terrible as their mouths, which hung open, slack-jawed.

  She bolted upright in the dark, shaking, sweat streaming from her. Tears dripping off her chin, her breathing erratic, heart galloping. The clock said four-thirty. It was a nightmare. It wasn't real, and yet it stayed with her.