I say a hasty goodbye to Ray, then head north by the quickest route with Shadow chasing my heels. The path takes me along the island’s eastern shore, past Church Quay beach, where the ebb tide has exposed acres of white sand. I’m almost level with Maggie’s pub when Hangman Island rises from New Grimsby Sound. The island’s name comes from the executions carried out there during the English Civil War, but there’s no sign of danger today. The sea is flat calm as I pass the huge boulders littered across the beach by Small Boat Carn. I’m level with Horse Point when the metal structure of the new building spikes out from the rock face. Maeve is on the clifftop above, witch-like hair streaming as she beckons me up the path.
It’s clear that something’s wrong, so I give Shadow a stern warning to stay back. He obeys me for once, settling himself on a patch of long grass. The building team has downed tools. I can see half a dozen men in high-vis jackets standing in a gaggle, faces downcast, as Maeve rushes over to greet me. She looks nothing like the high-spirited woman I saw last night, her skin unnaturally pale.
‘What have you found?’
‘Come and see for yourself.’
She leads me towards a trench in the ground, near the cliff edge. It’s four feet deep, the mud clawed into grooves by the digger’s prongs.
‘Is this where the foundations are going?’ I ask.
‘That was the plan, until our foreman spotted something from the digger.’
I catch sight of Jamie Porthcawl, a local builder I’ve known since birth. He’s talking to Danny, their heads bowed. They’ve chosen a man with a good professional reputation; Jamie is also one of the most laid-back characters on Bryher, but there’s tension in his hunched shoulders today. Maeve points at something in the trench below, glinting white against the mud. I jump down into the trench for a closer look and my suspicions are confirmed. A human skull lies exposed, making me catch my breath. It’s mottled with dirt, the jaw gagged open, as if the victim died screaming. I’ll need to make sure the area is protected from the elements, and from prying eyes, until expert help arrives.
Two male voices sound in my ears while I stare at it. When I turn round, Danny is trying to keep Louis Hayle away, but the old man barges past, his frown deeper than ever. There’s something threatening in his manner, even though he’s a spent force. He gasps when he peers down at the skull, then releases a torrent of words.
‘What did I tell you, Kitto? Those bones are probably Bronze Age. I’ll sue the Archaeology Council for this travesty.’
‘Step back, Mr Hayle. This whole area’s a crime scene; I’m about to cordon it off.’
‘That poor creature’s rest shouldn’t be disturbed.’
‘I have to find out if the death was recent. Go home, please, you’re obstructing police business.’
‘I don’t trust any of you. I’ll stay here and make sure no harm’s done.’
I rise to my feet then eyeball him. ‘Leave the site now, before I issue a formal warning.’
He tries to stare me down. ‘This is on your conscience, not mine.’
Hayle struts away, towards his house perched on the hilltop. When I bend down to study the skull again, it looks like a broken eggshell. I can’t tell whether the passage of time or injury has made it shatter. Instinct makes me scan the ground, for more remains, but there’s only a bare expanse of earth. If this burial is part of an ancient grave site, the body was laid far from its community.
Maeve’s face is still pinched with shock when I step back onto the grass. I can see Danny ten metres away, gabbling into his phone, while Jamie Porthcawl stands by himself. The builder’s frown could be due to uncovering the skull, or knowing that the project will be interrupted, leaving his workers unpaid.
‘Send your team home, Maeve. This is a crime scene now. There’ll be no more digging till we know what happened.’
The tension on her face triggers my sympathy. Danny will have calculated the exact cost of the build; any delay could jeopardise a project that’s close to her heart. She hurries over to her team, and I watch disappointment spread across their faces. Work is scarce in a place this small. It feels uncomfortable putting the project on hold, but I’ve got no choice. My first responsibility lies with the nameless victim whose skull lies in white fragments embedded in the ground.