LITMIR.BIZ

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the belt while pushing down with the other. The boy would have been powerless.’

      Powerless. Savage shook her head, not understanding how anyone could gain pleasure or satisfaction in subjugating another person, let alone killing them.

      ‘This one’s dangerous, eh, Charlotte?’ Layton pointed at the figure of Nesbit hunched over the body. ‘And I’ve got a bad feeling in my waters.’

      ‘I thought you were like Dr Nesbit, John? Scientific enquiry, evidence, reason.’

      ‘I’m just saying I’m uncomfortable with this. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but something’s not right here.’

      ‘Andrew?’ Savage said. ‘How say you?’

      ‘Well, there is something odd here.’ Nesbit was peering at one of his hands, holding a gloved finger up and rotating it. ‘There’s a substance on the surface of his skin. Something sticky.’

      ‘Sticky?’

      ‘Perhaps more slippery than sticky. Possibly grease. Perhaps it’s something from the tunnel. Oil from the trains maybe?’ Nesbit bent to the body again. He lifted one of the legs. ‘Of more importance is the fact he’s still in rigor. I’ll take a rectal temperature reading to establish time of death. Give me a few minutes and I’ll have an answer for you on that.’

      ‘OK, doc,’ Savage said. She turned away and walked back to the tunnel entrance, leaving Nesbit and Layton arguing over the ambient air temperature. She walked along the track and climbed the little path to the lane. She found Hardin standing in a pale circle of light cast by the mobile incident room van.

      ‘Layton and Nesbit any good?’ Hardin said. ‘Because if those two can’t find anything, we’re buggered. There’s nothing yet from the wider search and little chance of any witnesses.’

      ‘The barracks at Bickleigh. They’re not far away.’

      ‘A bloody squaddie? That’s all we need. They’ll close ranks, deal with it internally.’

      ‘No, sir. I meant cameras. They have them at the entrance. Perhaps they filmed a vehicle passing late at night. Possible a sentry also saw something suspicious.’

      ‘Good idea. I’ll get someone on to it.’ Hardin paused and cocked his head. ‘What’s it like in the tunnel, Charlotte? Grim, I’ll bet?’

      ‘Very.’

      ‘Well, I’ll go in when Nesbit’s finished.’ Hardin looked over Savage’s shoulder into the lane. ‘Before that lot take the body away.’

      Savage turned round. A little way up the road a white coroner’s van eased onto the muddy verge, hazard lights flashing. Jason Hobb would soon be going from one cold grey place to another.

      ‘Ah, here’s Nesbit,’ Hardin said.

      ‘Conrad. Charlotte. It’s as Charlotte suspected.’

      ‘What is?’ Hardin snapped.

      ‘He was killed somewhere else and brought to the tunnel. The lividity shows he died in a different position from the one he’s in now. Looks as if the killer used a ligature to asphyxiate him. Rigor is still present and this and the body temperature indicate to me the boy has been dead for around twenty-four hours.’

      ‘I suppose that’s good news,’ Hardin said. ‘Unlikely anything we could have done since we heard he was missing would have made any bloody difference.’

      That, Savage thought, was one way of putting it.

      Savage pushed through the double doors into the crime suite at a little after ten. The tunnel had been sealed and officers stationed at either end. A thorough search of the surrounding area would take place come daylight. The post-mortem was due first thing in the morning as well, an event she was not looking forward to.

      Collier had left for the day, but he’d scribbled bullet points on one of the whiteboards beneath the name for the operation: Lacuna. One, initial lines of enquiry would be discussed at a meeting of the team scheduled for directly after the post-mortem the following morning. Two, Ned Stone had, so far, not been located. According to a neighbour, he’d left his bedsit in the morning, shortly after being questioned. Three, DC Calter had been sent to Torpoint to interview Mrs Hobb.

      Savage pondered the last point. Calter would need to conduct the interview with sensitivity, but they had to get to the bottom of why Jason’s mother had failed to report the boy missing on Monday night. Was it because she was trying to protect somebody? On the other hand, perhaps there was some kind of genuine misunderstanding.

      She was putting together her thoughts into a brief summary document when Layton came through the double doors carrying a plastic crate. He plonked the crate down on a table with a crash and waved at Savage.

      ‘Got anything from the mother yet?’ Layton said.

      ‘No. DC Calter is over there at the moment. I’m thinking the delay in reporting Jason as a misper is down to her hiding something. She’s a single mum and there’s a boyfriend and – get this – the boyfriend’s got form.’

      ‘Nice theory, but it’s a dead end.’ Layton flipped up the lid on the crate. He delved inside and pulled out a number of plastic bags. Each held an item of clothing. ‘Because unfortunately there’s a problem. A big problem.’

      ‘Go on.’

      ‘These are the clothes you found in the tunnel. Likely they belong to the dead boy.’ Layton picked up one of the bags. Inside was a hooded sweatshirt. ‘But they don’t belong to Jason.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘I’ve checked the misper details. Jason was wearing an Argyll top, jeans with a belt, and some kind of cag with an inner fleece. Nothing like this. I’ve taken a look at the crime scene pictures. It’s no surprise we made the mistake since the dead lad is around eleven too, certainly no older. But we’ve fucked up big time because wherever Jason Hobb is, he isn’t lying dead in the Shaugh Prior tunnel.’

      ‘Christ.’ Savage stared at the other plastic bags. A T-shirt, a pair of socks, boxer shorts, some tracksuit bottoms with a rip in one knee. How had she missed this? She wondered about the inquest. Was she still too wrapped up in her own problems, even though she’d told Pete everything was fine? ‘You’re saying this is entirely coincidental? That Jason could be safe and sound somewhere?’

      ‘Be nice to think so.’ Layton pursed his lips and then pressed them together into a thin smile. ‘But as you well know, happy endings are hard to come by in this business.’

      ‘Shit.’ Savage was already reaching for her phone. She needed to call DC Calter. Right now.

      Calter was buzzing when she left the crime scene and, despite the lateness of the hour, was not displeased to be dispatched to interview Angie Hobb. The woman, Collier reckoned, needed to give them the full lowdown on her relationship with Ned Stone.

      ‘Preferably before you break the bad news,’ Collier had added. ‘That way she’ll be more responsive.’

      Over at Torpoint the front door cracked open to reveal the angelic face of Luke Farrell, a family liaison officer. Farrell reached up and ran his fingers through his blond mop, looking something like a cross between a scarecrow and a teddy bear. He showed Calter into the hallway.

      ‘News?’ Farrell said. Calter nodded. ‘Bad, I take it?’

      ‘The worst. A body in a tunnel on the Drake’s Trail.’ Calter paused at the entrance to the living room. Kept her voice to a whisper. ‘But I just want a couple of minutes before I tell her, OK?’

      ‘Sure, but go easy.’

      ‘You know me,’ Calter said, smiling. ‘When do I ever not go easy?’

      Angie Hobb filled an armchair in the living room, legs pulled in underneath her, a cup of cold tea on a table to one side. Bare arms

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