'She's fine.' This wasn't the time to go into details.
'Jacked it in to make pots, didn't she? Good for her. I retire myself next year.' He scowled at the foul weather. 'Can't say I'll be sorry. I'm getting too old for this game. And the job's changed since I started. All paperwork and bureaucracy now. Speaking of which…'
He looked behind me as Simms' clipped voice rang out.
'When you're ready, Dr Hunter.'
The ACC had put on a pair of brand new Wellingtons. The shinhigh rubber boots looked ridiculous with his tailored overcoat and uniform, but not everyone there was so lucky. I saw Roper looking disconsolately at his thin-soled shoes as we set off along the muddy track. The dog-handler, a swarthy man with a shaved head, walked slightly ahead of the rest of us, feeding out the rope attached to the harness as the German shepherd snuffled the ground.
'Will the rain make any difference?' I asked him.
He answered without taking his eyes from the dog. 'Not unless it really pisses it down. It's the peat that'll be a problem. Soaks up water like a sponge, and if it gets too boggy it doesn't hold the scent.'
'It's pretty boggy where we're going.'
He gave me a look as though I'd questioned his dog's ability. 'If there's a scent to be found, he'll pick it up.'
The rest of us waited as the handler and his dog searched the area where Monk had stood watching while Sophie and I drove away. Or at least as near to it as I could recalclass="underline" they found nothing, and eventually Naysmith called them back. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I thought a few cool glances were sent my way after that. As we continued along the track I found myself wondering if perhaps we really had overreacted the day before.
God, please don't let me be wasting everyone's time.
The rain darkened the squat tower of Black Tor in the distance, making the boulders live up to their name. We cut off the track at about the same point that Sophie and I had the day before and began trekking across the moor. Lucas had a compass and map, but either his sense of direction wasn't the equal of Sophie's or the whole area had become more waterlogged overnight, because it seemed a lot harder going this time. I stared ahead anxiously, searching for any sign of the holes. But the moorland seemed untouched, a sea of drab greens and browns that I began to feel was mocking me.
Then, just as had happened the day before, the heather and grass around us was suddenly pockmarked with muddy craters.
I felt irrationally relieved: I'd almost begun to think we wouldn't find them. Everyone stopped. The only sound was the drip and patter of rain on our coats, then one of the policemen broke the silence.
'Bloody big moles they've got round here.'
Nobody laughed. Naysmith motioned the dog-handler forward. The German shepherd strained on its line, nose pressed to the ground. Almost straight away it began following something.
'He's got a scent,' the dog-handler called, but even as he did the dog changed direction and began zigzagging aimlessly between the holes. 'It's all over.'
'I can see someone's been here. I want to know where he went,' Simms snapped.
The handler gave Naysmith an uneasy glance. The SIO nodded. 'Try to find a trail leading away.'
As the dog-handler moved off, Simms went to the nearest hole. 'Dr Hunter, can you say if anything was buried in any of these?'
The holes were all too small to have held a human body, but other than that I couldn't say. 'No. I doubt it, but you should have a cadaver dog check them anyway.'
'Well, looks like the other graves must be somewhere nearby.' Naysmith was squatting by one of the holes. 'Wouldn't be much point him digging like a dog for a bone otherwise.'
'We searched this entire area last time without finding anything,' Roper said. 'He could have hidden a stash of cash or something. Makes more sense than wanting to dig up bodies that have been safely buried for eight years.'
He had a point, but Simms was having none of it. 'Monk wouldn't have buried money. That'd involve planning ahead, and he doesn't think like that. No, this was about finding the Bennett girls. Dr Hunter, where was Monk when you first saw him?'
I scanned the moor. Without the ground mist everything looked different, and there were no convenient landmarks to help me pinpoint where I'd first seen the figure. This was Sophie's speciality, not mine, but in his wisdom Simms had made her stay behind.
Still, I felt reasonably confident as I pointed. 'Over there. About a hundred yards away.'
Rain dripped from the rim of his hat as Simms looked dubiously at the unremarkable patch of moor. There wasn't much to see, no tor or hummocks large enough to have concealed anyone as big as Monk.
'He can't have appeared from nowhere. Where did he come from?'
'He was just standing there when we saw him. That's all I can tell you.'
Simms' gloved fingers drummed against his leg, like a restless cat twitching its tail. 'Bring the dog,' he said, and started walking.
The moor became boggier as we headed further out: patches of viscous black mud pooled with oily water. Several times we had to detour where it was too thick to cross, Roper muttering under his breath as he slithered about in his city shoes. Twice the dog seemed to catch an elusive trace of scent, but both times its handler shook his head after it lost it again.
It was only as we neared the spot where I'd seen Monk that I realized we were retracing our steps from years before. This was where he'd claimed the other graves were, before Sophie's discovery of the badger sett had diverted us. I considered mentioning it, but Simms was sceptical enough already. Don't push your luck.
I stopped and looked around, trying to gauge how far we'd come.
'Well?' Simms prompted.
'Around here somewhere, but it's hard to say where exactly.' I was uncomfortably aware that everyone was watching me. 'Over there, I think.'
The patch of moor looked no different from any other. Just grass and heather, shivering slightly from the beating of the rain. There was no sign that anyone had ever been here.
'You said he came after you. Which way did he go?' Simms asked.
I tried to visualize it, but it wasn't easy from this new perspective 'To start with he followed us towards the track, but then he headed across the moor for the road to cut us off.'
Naysmith motioned to the dog-handler. 'See if you can find anything.'
The handler began casting round with his dog in an attempt to pick up Monk's trail. But they floundered straight away, the German shepherd's paws sinking into black mud. The dog thrashed and whined as its handler hauled it out, only for it to become stuck again moments later.
'It's too wet,' he called, heaving it back on to firmer ground. 'It's like a quagmire round here.'
'Keep trying,' Simms told him.
The handler's face made it clear what he thought of that. The dog's paws plunged deep into the soft mud, bogging it down. It had to be pulled free several more times, until both dog and handler were filthy and out of breath. Finally, it seemed to catch a scent on a stretch of firmer ground. Its ears pricked up in interest as it began to follow it, only to suddenly whine and back away.
'Now what?' Simms demanded as the dog sneezed and pawed its nose.
'Ammonia,' the handler said, sniffing with distaste. The pungent chemical smell was bad enough for humans; to a dog's sensitive nose it would be actively painful. He patted the German shepherd, giving Simms a reproachful look. 'The rain's washed some of it away but someone was expecting us. We're done here.'
Simms seemed about to insist but Naysmith intervened. 'It's going to be dark soon. We can bring more dogs out tomorrow, organize a proper search. There's not much more we can do tonight.'
He stared levelly back as the ACC glared at him. Simms' hand tapped impatiently at his side before he gave a grudging nod.