Melissa watched out the window of the head groundskeeper's office as a ball landed on the fairway she could see through a gap in the trees. The ball bounced forwards, landed on the edge of the green, and then rolled down the incline towards the water she could see only because of the sun that was bouncing off it.

"Is there a penalty if your ball goes into the water?" she asked of John Knight, whose office it was.

The head groundskeeper offered an amused smile. "That depends on how good a golfer you are," he said, "and how deep the water is. If the water's shallow, and you're a good golfer, you can get the ball out, you might even be able to get it somewhere useful. Most people, though, will take a penalty and drop a replacement ball near the edge of the water; in the long run, it saves a lot of time, effort and aggravation. I take it someone's just put a ball in the water on the sixteenth."

"If that's the hole out there, then yes," Melissa said. "The ball bounced twice, then rolled down into the water."

Knight's smile broadened. "A lot of people make that mistake," he said. "There's a bit of a nasty bunker to the right of the green, you have to aim just past the edge of the bunker if you want to stay on the green, and not many people manage it, especially if they don't know the course."

"That doesn't sound like much fun."

"Depends on how you look at it. I'm paid to make the course a challenge for people who know how to play a good round of golf."

Mitchell had no interest in the golf talk, and paid little attention to it, instead he focused on watching out for Oliver Ryder. His vigilance was rewarded when a short while later he saw Ryder. "He's here," he told the other two.

It was another couple of minutes before a knock sounded. "You asked me to come in, Mr Knight," Oliver Ryder said as he entered the office. He stopped the moment he saw the two uniformed officers with his boss. "What d'you want?" he asked of Mitchell, his dislike of the sergeant evident.

John Knight took his cue from the look directed at him by Mitchell, and excused himself.

"Hello, Oliver, how are you?" Mitchell asked. "How does it feel to be gainfully employed for the first time in your life?"

"What d'you want?" Oliver repeated his question, ignoring the pleasantries.

"We need to speak to you about something," Mitchell said. "A couple of somethings, actually."

"Yeah, well, I don't wanna speak to you, so you can get lost," Oliver told him. "You only ever come looking for me when you think I've done summat. Well, I ain't done shit, other than go straight. I've got a legit job, I'm learnin' to be a groundskeeper, and you'd better not have messed it up for me coming here. If you have I'll..." He cut himself off before he could finish the threat he was thinking of.

"We're not here because we think you've been involved in anything," Mitchell said. "We're here about Georgina."

"What about Georgie?" Oliver demanded. "Don't tell me you useless plods have actually managed to find her. No, if you'd found her, Uncle John would've called to tell me, he wouldn't have left it to you lot."

Mitchell hesitated for a moment before saying, "We have found Georgina, or rather, she has been found."

"Then why hasn't Uncle John called to tell me himself?"

"Because, and I really hate to have to tell you this, Oliver, Georgina was..." Mitchell paused before plunging on. "Georgina is dead, she was killed," he said that in a rush, and braced himself for the inevitable reaction – he was not disappointed, though he was not sure that was the right word.

For several, long seconds Oliver simply stood there, staring at the sergeant. His fists were clenched at his side, and his chest rose and fell heavily as he sought to control himself, without success. After about three or four seconds, Oliver gave up trying to control himself, he turned and ran from the office, surprising both the sergeant and the constable, both of whom had expected him to explode and rage at them. He was gone before either officer could recover from their surprise.

Melissa recovered first and quickly set off in pursuit, unsure why Oliver was fleeing, only that she had to catch him. She stopped to look around when she reached the outside; at first glance it seemed as though Oliver had disappeared, but she guessed where he must have gone when she heard the roar of an unmuffled car exhaust. She hurried for the corner, so she could make for the car park at the side of the building, and reached it just in time to be forced to dive out of the way to be avoid being run down by Oliver Ryder's speeding car.

"How could you let him get away?" Mitchell demanded when he caught up with Melissa, who was still on the ground and saw the Volkswagen Golf disappearing rapidly down the road.

"I didn't let him get away," Melissa said, disbelief on her face as she pushed herself up from the ground. "Oliver's faster than me, always has been. In case you've forgotten he was the hundred metres champion for the county two years running. He was already out of sight by the time I got out here, and in his car by the time I got to the corner. I didn't have a hope in hell of stopping him.

"Oh, and I'm fine by the way, thanks for asking."

Mitchell fumed, but didn't allow himself to react to the sarcasm in Melissa's voice. He had more important things to worry about, namely the fact that Oliver Ryder was getting away. Without checking to see that Melissa was with him, he hurried away so he could give chase.

Melissa felt like swearing but resisted the urge, instead she followed the sergeant. She caught up with him just before he reached the patrol car they were using, and slid into the passenger seat, while he got behind the wheel and started the engine.

"Why d'you think he's run?" Melissa asked as they raced down the narrow drive that led to the rear entrance of the golf course. "We've got no reason for thinking he's involved in what happened to Georgina, at least we didn't 'til now; running definitely makes him look like a suspect. And where's he running to? He can't be heading home, that'd just be asking for him to get caught."

"He's not heading home, he's got someone he wants to talk to," Mitchell said.

"What are you..." Melissa was interrupted by a crackle from her radio before she could finish her question.

"Control to one-four, come in, over."

"One-four to control, receiving, over," Melissa responded.

"Are you still looking for Ollie Ryder?" Pritchard asked.

"Yeah, we caught up with him at the golf course, but he did a bunk. Have you seen him?" Melissa asked of her fellow constable.

"He just blew past me like he's at Silverstone, and gunning for the finish line."

"Is he heading for home?" Melissa peered ahead through the windscreen, hoping for a glimpse of Oliver's Golf, while she waited for an answer.

"Not unless he's got Hamilton's brakes," Pritchard said. "He just blew past home like it wasn't even there."

That left Melissa confused. "If he's not going home, where is he going?"

It was Mitchell who answered. "He's heading for the Wright farm."

That answered the question, but left Melissa just as confused. "Why would Oliver be heading there? He's got nothing to do with the farm or the family."

"Because he thinks Kieran is responsible for Georgina's disappearance, it's why he attacked him last weekend; if we don't get there quick, I hate to think what Oliver's going to do." He pressed his foot down on the accelerator, making the car leap forward as it picked up speed.