Nick was on the motorway when he dialled Grace’s cellphone number, not expecting her to answer, but she picked up after half a dozen rings, sounding distracted.
“Sorry, Grace,” he said. “I thought I’d have to leave you a voicemail—that you’d be at the scene.”
“No. I’m at home.” And there was something fragile in her voice that he hadn’t heard before. It sent the hairs rising at the back of his neck.
“What is it?”
“Blenkinship thinks I contaminated DNA samples from one of the earlier scenes. He doesn’t believe Edith Airey could possibly have been at the hide, so I’m…off the case.” He heard her take a shaky breath. “I’m off all cases.”
Nick swore under his breath. “That’s—” He broke off, saw his junction coming up, checked his mirror and slid the Impreza over into the left-hand lane. “Look, from what I’ve just found out, she could well have been. I’m at Tebay. I’ll be with you in a couple of minutes, OK?” He hit the End Call button without waiting for a reply.
By the time he reached Grace’s cottage, she was outside on the gravel with her hands in her pockets and Tallie at her feet.
Max Carri was standing beside her. He ran faintly amused, superior eyes over the Impreza as he leaned negligently on the front wing of his expensive Mercedes. Nick noted the additional AMG badges sourly.
She still divorced him, though, didn’t she?
He climbed out, waited silently while they said their goodbyes. Max backed out of the driveway and put his foot down. The Mercedes disappeared with impressive speed, which Nick tried to tell himself was a sign of Max’s insecurity.
“What was he doing here?”
“I called him,” Grace said. “After what happened to Richard…I–I needed someone.” He’d never heard her sound so unsure of herself. He put his hands on her upper arms and stared straight into her eyes, ignoring the warning growl from the dog.
“Are you all right?”
“No,” she admitted, stepping back out of his grasp, rubbing her arms as though cold. “I’ve never been suspended for incompetence before.” She threw him a brief smile. “The ground suddenly feels rather unstable underfoot.”
“It shouldn’t do. I’ve watched you work, Grace. We both know you didn’t make a mistake.”
She took a grateful breath. “What did you mean on the phone, about Edith?”
“Pollock’s had me chasing down the fuel angle for the bomb,” he said. “Seemed a better bet than the fertiliser. This is farming country, after all. Must be hundreds of places with old bags of the stuff stored. Anyway, I’ve just been interviewing a guy from one of the motorway services who’s admitted to selling off two drums of diesel/petrol mix. Amazing how many people fill up their car with the wrong fuel and have to get it syphoned out again.”
Tallie butted against Grace’s leg and she leaned down to stroke the dog’s head. “And didn’t ask what they wanted it for.”
“Says he did, actually. To run a Chieftain tank on.” At her raised eyebrow he added, “One of these old military vehicle enthusiasts’ groups, so the bloke he sold it to claimed. They scrounge what they can.”
“Oh.” He watched her absorb that information. “Did he give you a description?”
“A vague one—big, bearded.” He grimaced wryly. “But he knew our man was driving a dark blue 1956 long-wheelbase Land Rover Series Two. Bit of a car nut.”
“And where does Edith fit in?”
“He mentioned it specially, said he wasn’t suspicious because the guy had his daughter with him.”
“It could be a coincidence.” Grace seemed listless. “Lots of people have daughters, after all.”
“True, but we’ve been in touch with every military vehicle enthusiasts’ group. They all deny anyone has been in this area collecting fuel to run a tank on. And then there’s the Land Rover.”
Grace’s face grew thoughtful. “I know they’re pretty common, but they do seem to keep cropping up, don’t they? What colour did he say it was?”
“Dark blue.” Nick saw her disappointment, added quickly, “but he also said it wasn’t a standard colour and it looked fresh. Like I said, he was a car nut. There’s no reason why our man couldn’t have repainted it, although you would have thought he’d go for a more drastic colour change.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” Grace said, frowning. “Merely going from light to dark blue means he wouldn’t need to alter the designated colour on the vehicle documents. And if anyone did a PNC check, it wouldn’t raise any flags.”
“Damn,” Nick said, offering a smile. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Grace smiled back, the first real animation since he’d arrived. “That’s what you have me for.”
“We need Edith Airey picked up.” He pulled out his phone, dialled Hunter Lane. “I doubt she was on the trigger herself, but I’d bet she knows who was.”
“And quickly. If our mystery man was behind the marks on Edith’s neck, he may have already tried to kill her once. And the tip-off this morning came from a young woman. If he realises she’s turned against him…” She broke off as his expression hardened through the short call. “What?”
“Someone shot Jim Airey at his home,” Nick said. He jerked his head to the Impreza. “Grab your gear.”
Grace didn’t argue. She shooed the dog inside, emerging a moment later with her camera bag and basic crime scene kit. By the time she was in the passenger seat, clipping her seatbelt, Nick was already pulling out into the lane.
“Did he come for her, do you think?” Grace asked as they accelerated away. “And Airey tried to protect his daughter, got in the way?”
“Either that or she plugged the old man herself. She’s familiar with firearms, don’t forget, and you’ve met Jim Airey.” He took his eyes off the road to flash her a brief dark glance. “Wouldn’t you want to shoot him?”