Detective Inspector Matthew Venn walked along the track from his house, and onto the beach. The tide was low and the sand seemed to stretch almost to the opposite bank of the estuary.
From his kitchen window, he’d seen two young girls standing in the middle distance. They were holding hands and had their backs to him, staring, it seemed, towards Instow or Appledore. This was where the two North Devon rivers met and the towns stood, oddly majestic in the early morning light, marking the Torridge entrance on the opposite shore. The River Taw ran just below his house.
This wasn’t a tourist beach, and it wasn’t the time of year for children to be playing. It was January. Cold and clear, a different sort of day for this coast where the westerly winds usually blew rain and cloud. He’d woken to a grass frost, ice on the puddles on the drive, a bright orange sun when at last it rose behind the house.
Matthew had met few children. His sergeant, Jen Rafferty, had a boy and a girl, but they were almost grown up and he only knew of them second hand. These girls looked younger and this was a school day. Matthew’s husband, Jonathan, had already left for work, but Matthew had time owing and the police station was going through a quiet phase, so he’d taken the morning off.
