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better than I did. She rated him.’
    Willa nods, a silence descending. She has pulled her mask off, is wearing lipstick, a cherry red, stark against the gloom of the day, the scent of death. She gives me a look, seems to be looking right into me. Unnerving. And … something else.
    I look at Dominic Newell again. I expect him to stand, to push himself up, dust himself down, give one of his famous movie-star grins. But he won’t. He’s dead.
    What the hell happened to you, Dominic?
    I sigh.
    ‘You okay?’ Willa’s voice is soft, supportive, jarring almost in its tenderness.
    ‘I’m fine.’ The words fly out, a kick when the knee is tapped. I’m always fine. It’s a standing joke in my family. That the day I am less than fine, the sky will fall. I give Willa a quick smile. ‘You know me.’
    She studies me, appraising. ‘This your first murder as a DS?’
    ‘Yup.’
    ‘Stressful.’
    ‘Mm hmm.’
    ‘But you’re fine.’
    I grin. ‘Of course. Never better.’
    She nods, pursing her lips, like she is thinking of pushing me. Am I a challenge to her, I wonder, a puzzle to be unravelled? Or is it something else? But I bat that thought away quickly enough.
    My phone buzzes.
    Willa watches me. ‘Everything okay?’
    ‘Dominic’s next of kin.’ I flash the screen at her, Christa’s response to my earlier question highlighted in blue. ‘Isaac Fletcher.’ I scroll through the address. ‘Looks like I’m driving to Cardiff.’
    I shift the car keys in my hands. Only dimly aware of Willa’s presence now, my mind already on its way, telling Dominic Newell’s partner that his body has been found dumped by the side of a lonely mountain road. ‘Right,’ I say. ‘Better get on with it.’
    I set off steadily, my gaze searching the verges as I go. Do I expect to see Dominic’s car simply parked up, waiting for me? The murderer standing beside the precipitous drop, hands out, waiting to be cuffed? That would be nice.
    I look for houses, industrial units. Anything that might, by some obscure twist of fate, have CCTV, ANPR, something to provide me with some insight into the death of Dominic Newell. But all I see is the gathering clouds, the valley below.
    What were you doing up here, Dominic? Or were you already dead when you arrived?
    Traffic slows me as I hit Cardiff, a long line of cars snaking its way along North Road, brake lights adding some colour to the dreary day. I hit speed dial on my phone.
    ‘Hey.’
    ‘All right, sis?’
    Leah’s voice is quiet, echoing, and I hear a door closing. ‘Yeah. Still nothing here. The kids … they’re taking it pretty hard.’
    The missing person.
    ‘I bet,’ I reply, because I can’t think of anything else to say. I know my sister. With her, this case will be all about the children. Every case is now, since the twins. I guess it’s a parent thing. I really wouldn’t know. ‘Um … Look, I have some news.’
    ‘You’re getting married?’
    ‘Ha ha. Right.’ The traffic has ground to a halt now, enmeshing me in a twisting mass of roadworks. I sigh, lean back against the headrest. ‘No. The thing is … we found a body.’
    There is a silence on the line, heavy enough that it dawns on me what I have said. ‘No, no. Not your body. I mean … not your body, not your missing person’s body.’
    ‘Finley …’
    Dammit. She’s full-naming me.
    ‘Is the body a woman?’
    ‘No.’
    Leah sighs heavily. ‘Christ, you scared me. Okay, so …’
    ‘Lee, it’s Dominic Newell.’
    Another silence. Then, ‘Dominic Newell the defence solicitor?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘You can’t be serious?’ The words are little more than a breath out.
    ‘I just came from the scene now. Looks like he was stabbed in the neck and then dumped. Right there on the side of the road.’
    ‘Oh my God! I … Poor Dominic. I just … I can’t believe it.’
    ‘You were friends, right?’
    A silence, then a sigh. ‘Not friends. Not really. We would chat when he came into the station. I