Zero Option

Now…' He glanced at his watch. 'I think the CID will be needing you at the scene of the crime.'

The CID Vectra was parked outside the guardroom.

Fraser introduced himself and his team, and after a quick discussion it was agreed that while the bosses carried out the site inspection their number twos would stay in camp and get their incident room set up. For a few minutes the whole crowd disappeared into the Kremlin to discuss the layout, then we were off in the Special Branch lover, with the Streisand look alike driving and myself calling the thrns.

The sun was just up, setting the brick-red soil on fire and illuminating the hedges, now fully out, their new leaves glowing the freshest green. Except for the black cloud looming over my head, it was a perfect Herefordshire spring day.

'This is it,' I announced as the car turned into our lane, and there stood the little brick cottage, snug among its trees, with the peaceful woods and fields rising gently into the distance all round.

'Stop here, please, Karen,' said Fraser. 'We'll walk the last bit. What a place!'

He and Bates spent a minute changing out of their city shoes and into rubber boots. As I waited, I was hit by a blast of remorse. I should never have brought Tracy here, I thought bitterly. I'd imagined that the cottage woald be the perfect home for my family, and yet it seemed to have a deadly effect on any woman connected with it: Kath killed, and now Tracy kidnapped. Even on that fine morning the house had lost a good deal of its charm.

It's not the place that's doing it, I told myself. It's you and your problems.

The two coppers set out slowly, side by side, down the last hundred yards of track, scanning every inch. I followed close behind them.

'What vehicles have been down here since last night?' Bates asked.

'The Cavalier that dropped me,' I said, 'and the two P,ange l.overs that came out when I phoned.

Otherwise, there shouldn't have been any.'

'I see.'

The policemen's manner had altered. Both had suddenly become sharper, more concentrated.

'What's this?' Bates stooped and picked up a piece of paper from the grass at the edge of the track. The scrap was blank, but he put it carefully into the folder he was carrying. In one muddy patch he bent down to examine some tire tracks, but several had been superimposed on each other so that no clear pattern was discernible.

As we reached the gravel sweep in front of the cottage, a figure in DPMs popped out from behind the bushes to our right and advanced aggressively to challenge us. Although Les wasn't actually holding a weapon, his right hand was in the pocket of his smock.

His face was pale from lack of sleep, his expression tense, but as soon as he saw me he relaxed.

I walked towards him. 'Hi, Les. Everything OK?'

'Fine. Your only caller's been a bloody great fox — came past the back of the house about an hour ago and left his calling card by that gatepost.'

'I know him,' I said. 'He's always around. Listen, these guys are ClD and Special Branch.'

Fraser stuck out a hand and introduced himself briefly. Then he said to me, 'R, ight. I want you to tell me exactly what you did when you came home.'

'Got out of the car about here.' I pointed to a spot on the gravel in front of us. 'The whole house was dark.

Then I went to the front door and in.'

'It wasn't locked?'

'No. I assumed Tracy had left it open for me.'

'Wouldn't she have had it locked earlier?'

'Probably not. We don't bother much out here until we go to bed.'

'So you didn't walk round outside at all?'

'Not a step.'

'Let's have a look, then. Hang on here, please.'

The two set off clockwise round the house: Fraser slim, sandy, lithe, like the fox reported by Les; Bates greyer, heavier, a badger. Foxy Fraser and Badger Bates, hunting in partnership. Until that moment I hadn't been particularly impressed with either of them, but now that I saw how much time they took, how carefully they moved, what attention they paid to every little detail, it was another matter.

They kept a yard or two from the building and advanced a few feet at a time, constantly glancing from ground to house and back. While they disappeared round the back I looked about me and saw that Tracy had cut the grass during the last day or two: the tracks of the mower were still showing clearly. She'd also weeded the flowerbeds against the front wall, the earth now freshly turned over.

'No sign of any attempted break-in,' Bates announced as the two came back into view.

No need for one, I thought. They just walked in.

Fraser looked back up the lane and waved at Karen to drive down. 'We got this,' he said, holding up a spent match. 'Ary of your lot smoke?'

I shook my head.

'One footprint, too.' Then he turned to Bates.

'You'll need to take a cast of that. Looks like a trainer.'

To me he added, 'It was on a bare patch in the grass, which makes me think they were here in the dark.

Nobody would have put a foot down there in daylight.'

I led them inside, trying to remember my every movement. In the hall I said, 'I put my kit down here,' and indicated a spot on the carpet.

Bates took up the questioning. 'What was it?'

'A bergen and a holdall.'

'Made of?'

'Something synthetic — nylon, I suppose. That's the stuff there.' I pointed at the drab olive bundle on a chair at the side of the room.

'OK. And what did you do then?'

'I switched on a light — there — and went upstairs. I tried our bedroom first, then Tim's.'

'You had to open the doors?'

'No — ours was open.'

'Then what?'

'I ran back down and into the kitchen, put the lights on in there. Nothing. So I went into the living room, switched on the light, and then I saw the photo on the floor in front of the stove.'

'Yes?'

'I picked it up, finger and thumb, and sat down on that chair.'

'In that chair?'

'No, on the arm nearest to us.'

'What were you wearing?'

'Same as now — these jeans and sweater. But a different T-shirt ' I broke off, hearing a vehicle draw up outside the open door.

Bates stuck his head out and said, 'Good. The forensic lads. A squad from Birmingham.'

As men began unloading gear from their van, Fraser said he'd seen enough and was heading back to the incident room. That left me and Bates with the forensic boys.

There were four of them, and they kitted themselves up in white overalls, white hoods, white gloves and white overshoes. I knew that the job was going to take some time. All the same, it was a shock to hear their boss announce that it would last all day at least.

To give us somewhere to base ourselves, they cleared the kitchen first. The care they took was amazing.

Having carried in lamps and stands, they lit up each room in a blaze dazzling enough for a film production; then they crept and crawled and peered and prodded, dusting for fingerprints and examining every square inch of every surface through magnifying glasses.

As they worked, I looked for a recent photograph of Tracy. The best likeness was a framed photo of her and Tim which stood on the kitchen window-sill. It had been taken just bbfore I'd gone to Colombia, and she must have had it mounted while I was away. It showed her standing behind Tim at the top of one of the big slides at AltonTowers, about to give him a push off.

She'd been laughing and joking as I took it, and her coppery hair was cascading down the back of her neck, shown off by a white windcheater. It was a goodshot of Tim, too; you could see his fair hair, broad forehead and blue eyes, all picked up from his mother.

'There's your photo,' I said to Bates.

'Mind if I borrow it?'

'Help yourself- but I'd like to have it back.'

'Of course. I'll get it copied right away:'