Rose Goulding stirred at the"Mitchell," he said groggily when his groping hand found the ringing phone and brought it to his ear.

"Sorry to wake you, sergeant."

Mitchell recognised the voice of his subordinate and became more awake. "What's up?" he asked of Constable Pritchard. "Has something happened?" He could think of no other reason for him to be called before seven a.m. on a Saturday, as the clock on the bedside cabinet told him the time was.

"Yes, sergeant," Pritchard said. "There's been a report that a body's been found."

Mitchell became wide awake the instant he heard that, though it was a moment or two before he could speak. "Did you say a body's been found?" he asked when he found his voice; he was sure he must have misheard.

"That's right. The call came in just a few moments ago; that new guy, Wild, said he's found the body of a teenage girl along the river near that old watchtower. He said she's dead – been murdered."

"Murdered!" The word escaped his lips before Mitchell could stop it; he looked quickly over at his wife, who was still asleep. "Are you sure about that?" he asked as he slipped from the bed.

"I've not seen the body, so I can only go on what Mr Wild said on the phone, but he sounded pretty definite about it," Pritchard told his superior. "I can't imagine why he'd lie about something like that."

"Me neither, you can never tell with some people, though, and it's not like we know Mr Wild well enough to tell what he might do."

"Do you think it could be Georgina Ryder?" Pritchard asked.

Mitchell went cold at that. The notion that the girl, he and his officers had spent the week looking for, was dead, was not one he liked – the possibility that she had been murdered was worse – but he couldn't think who else the body could be, the village had only the one missing girl as far as he was aware. "Unless you know of any other Oakhurst girls that have gone missing, I think it has to be Georgina," he said, feeling no satisfaction at the thought of her having been found.

Pritchard hesitated for a moment and then said, "I wasn't going to mention it 'til you came in, I didn't think it was important, I mean, she's never home..."

"Are you going to get to the point?" Mitchell asked, pressing the phone to his ear with his shoulder while he struggled into his uniform.

"Mike left a note, apparently, Theresa Goulding came in last night to report Lucy missing."

"Damn," Mitchell swore, abandoning his efforts at getting dressed. As if the situation wasn't bad enough, he now had to consider the possibility that the girl reported dead, was not the one they had spent a week looking for. "Okay, here's what I want you to do," he said, "Call Doc Kelly and Mel, tell them both I'll be by shortly to pick them up, then call the inspector; chances are Wild's wrong about the girl being dead, but just in case, the inspector is going to want to know what's going on."

"Wouldn't it be better to call Mike?" Pritchard asked. "Mel's never dealt with a dead body before, perhaps now isn't the best time for her first."

"No, I want Mel; she's got to deal with this kind of thing sooner or later. Besides, if I have to go and see the Ryders afterwards, Melissa will be more help than Mike." He didn't fancy the work that would result if the report from Wild proved to be accurate. "You'd better make those calls, Paul, I'll be at Doc Kelly's in a few minutes, tell him he'll need his bag."

*****

Melissa Turner looked down the bank at the rapidly moving river, and then over at her superior. It made her shudder just to think about what he wanted her to do.

"Wouldn't we be better off going back and crossing at the bridge?" she asked. She couldn't believe he already had one boot off, and was working on the lace of the other. "That water looks bloody freezing. I don't fancy going in there, and I'm sure it's not a good idea for Doc Kelly."

"Don't you worry about me on that score, girl," Kelly said. He settled to the ground and began rolling up his trouser legs before removing his shoes and socks. "I've never been bothered by a bit of cold water. It's that far bank I'm concerned about; it looks a little steep for someone of my stature."

Mitchell looked across the river at the far bank and then at the doctor, before finally down at himself. He wasn't as large at the waist as the doctor, but he was still far from slim. Climbing the far bank was likely to be as much of a challenge for him as the doctor, but there was nowhere better.

"It'll be a struggle," he admitted. "But we'll manage. If we go back it'll cost us three quarters of an hour, maybe more, and there's a deadfall on that side, near the bridge, that's been threatening to drop for a year. I'd rather not take a chance on us being under it, if it finally decides to go."

Melissa thought that a bit of a weak argument – if the tree hadn't fallen in a year, it was unlikely to fall while they passed it. She suspected Mitchell had not even thought about crossing the river after parking at the pub, and was reluctant to correct his mistake.

"I'll go first," Mitchell said. "Doc, you come second, Mel, you bring up the rear. Once I've got to the top, I can pull you up, Doc, while Mel gives you a shove from behind."

The river at the chosen spot was only about fifteen feet wide, but it still took the three of them almost five minutes to make it to the top of the far bank. Most of that time was spent climbing the bank on the other side, which Melissa had no difficulty with, but which proved a struggle for her companions struggled.

"Is that Mr Wild?" Melissa asked when they had gone another half a mile or so, and were almost at the bend in the river, around which was supposed to be the village's newest resident, and the body he claimed to have found.

"I can't imagine we're going to find two people this far out from the village so early on a Saturday. Thinking about it, you're not likely to find someone out here on any day of the week, regardless of the time. I wonder what he was doing out here," Mitchell remarked suspiciously before striding ahead, so he could reach the man who had disturbed his Saturday morning lie-in. "Mr Wild, Sergeant Mitchell."

"Hello, sergeant." Zack held out his hand. "I know who you, Doctor." He shook the elderly doctor's hand when the other two had caught up. "My neighbour, Constance Hawkins, pointed you out to me, in case I should have need of your services. I can't say that I've seen you before, constable, and I'm sure I'd remember; I can't remember the last time I saw a uniform worn so flatteringly."

Melissa flushed as she shook his hand, having been taken by surprise by the compliment. "Mel, Melissa," she stammered before taking a deep breath to calm herself. "Constable Turner I mean." She couldn't believe how she was reacting to the compliment, and to the way he looked – in shorts and a t-shirt, it was clear that he kept himself in better shape than just about anyone else in the village – and to the touch of his hand against hers. "Nice to meet you."

"If you're quite finished," Mitchell said sharply. "You told Constable Pritchard, when you called the station, that you found a body; what can you tell me about it, the person you found, I mean."

"Female, mid-teens at a guess, but it's hard to say for sure," Zack said as he led the two police officers and the doctor around the bend in the river on his way to where he had made his discovery. "One thing I can tell you for sure, she was murdered, and she's been out here for at least a couple of days, perhaps as long as a week."

"How can you be so certain the girl you found was murdered?" Mitchell asked; he was suspicious of the way the stranger talked so casually about murder, and how long he thought the body had been there. "And how did you find her?" He had to lengthen his stride to keep up with the younger man. "This isn't the sort of place people come without a good reason. Even the local fishermen use the other side of the village. The last person I can recall that came out this, way was an archaeologist we had in the village last autumn, and he only came out here because of the old watchtower, that one up on the hill." He gestured to the ruined structure not too far away. "He seemed to think it's Roman, reckoned there's an old Roman fort around here somewhere."

"I was out jogging, that's how I found her," Zack said. "I was heading along the other bank from the pub, saw something out of place, got curious, and waded across. Wish I'd ignored it and gone on jogging, I wished that before I was even sure what I'd found; wading the river wasn't my brightest idea.

"As for how I know she was murdered, there she is." He indicated with a nod of his head. "You'll understand when you see her."

"Bloody hell!" The oath escaped Mitchell's lips the moment he got within a dozen feet of the girl Zack Wild had stumbled on. There was no question about her being dead, or about her having been murdered. He swallowed convulsively against the urge to throw up. "You'd better stay back, Melissa, you don't need to see this," he said when he had himself under control.

"Oh god!" The warning came too late for Melissa, who turned away from the body on the ground, disgusted by the sight of what had once been a teenage girl, dropped to her knees, and vomited. She heaved until there was nothing left in her stomach, and only when she was finished did she realise that she had done so all over the feet of the man she had only recently met. "Sorry," she apologised in a weak and miserable voice.

"Don't worry about it," Zack said unconcernedly. Kicking off his running shoes, he took them to the river so he could wash them and his feet off.

"No, I'm sorry, they must be ruined now. Let me know how much they cost and I'll pay you back."

"There's no need to do that," Zack told her. "I was thinking about getting myself some new running shoes, now I've got the perfect excuse to do so, I should be thanking you."

Mitchell ignored both Melissa and Zack Wild as he moved closer to the body on the ground. His first glimpse of the girl had been bad enough, the sight got worse as he drew closer, though. Her face was such a mess that it was all but impossible to tell that she was a girl from it, let alone who she was, but that was nothing compared to the rest of her; it looked to Mitchell as though there wasn't an inch of her body that wasn't either bruised or covered in blood, if she hadn't been naked, he wasn't sure he would have been able to tell her sex. The worst was her abdomen, as if the injuries done to the rest of her body weren't enough, the person who had killed her had taken a knife – he assumed it was a knife – and carved letters into her stomach.

It was the letters that made Mitchell feel as though he was going to empty his stomach, as Melissa had. Try though he did, he simply could not imagine why someone would have done that, it was an act of evil beyond his comprehension.

"Is it Georgina?" he asked of the doctor, who was at his elbow.

William Kelly, the village's only doctor, studied the face of the girl on the ground dispassionately for several long moments. He was not as affected by what he was seeing as the two police officers – he had seen plenty of horrible things during his career as a medical professional – but was not unaffected; he was more saddened by the sight before him than sickened. Finally, he shook his head. "At a guess, I'd say it's Georgina, but I wouldn't want to be held to that. It could be just about anyone, if I'm honest."

Mitchell frowned at that. "Why can't you be sure it's her?" he asked. "You've been treating Georgina since she was a baby, you must have some idea whether it's her or not."

"The face is too badly damaged to say for definite who it might be. Georgina has a mole in that position," Kelly said, indicating the grown near the girl's left armpit. "But I wouldn't want to base an identification on it. You're good friends with the family, you've probably seen more of Georgina over the years than me, can't you say if it's her?"

Reluctantly, Mitchell was forced to admit that he couldn't. "I don't think I could be certain, if I thought I was looking at my own daughter," he said unhappily. "Could it be Lucy Goulding, rather than Georgina Ryder?"

"My gut feeling," Kelly said. "Is that this is Georgina, but I think you're going to have to rely on blood tests or dental records to be certain. Sorry, I wish I could be more help."

Mitchell clapped the doctor on the shoulder. "No need for you to be sorry. If I can't be sure who she is, I can't expect you to be. Can you give me any idea how she was killed?" he asked. "Obviously, she was beaten, severely, but was that enough..." Before he could finish, the phone in his pocket began ringing. He quickly excused himself so he could answer it, though he was sure, even without looking, that he knew who was trying to get hold of him.

Kelly used the excuse of giving Mitchell privacy for his call to get away from the body. He moved to where Melissa was standing with the village's newcomer and found them in conversation.

"Why do you say I'll be lucky if I don't see more murders like this?"

Melissa's face was ashen and her voice trembled in a way that made Kelly worry she was suffering from shock.

"Because a murder like this is often only a beginning," Zack told her. "It's usually the result of someone bottling up frustration and anger until something or someone pushes them over the edge and they explode. When that happens, they generally react in one of three ways: they either immediately commit suicide out of remorse, hand themselves in to the police, or they go back to bottling things up until they explode again. If they do that then each explosion is likely to be worse than the one before. Not only that, but there's a risk they'll have enjoyed killing the girl, and will actively want to duplicate the thrills. If that's the case, you're in real trouble."

Mitchell moved away from the body on the ground as he took his phone from his pocket. He preferred not to look at the young girl any more than necessary, and he was going to have to pay enough attention to her while investigating what had happened to her. "Inspector," he answered the phone. "I wondered how long it would be before you called."

"Paul said he received a phone call from our new resident, Wild, saying he found the body of a murdered girl, is that true?" Robert Stevens, who commanded Oakhurst's small police force asked in a concerned voice.

"Yes," Mitchell said. The bloody mess that had been made of the girl's stomach sickened him but he couldn't keep his eyes from straying to it repeatedly, despite him dragging them away every time it happened. "I'm at the scene now. There's no doubt about it, I'm afraid...she's been murdered."

"Jesus!" Stevens swore. "Paul also said Lucy Goulding has been reported missing by her mother. Is it..." His voice faltered, and it was a moment before he regained it. "Is it Lucy or...or Georgina?"

"I can't say for sure," Mitchell admitted. "She's quite a mess, she's been pretty badly worked over. It's hard enough to tell she's a girl from the state her face is in, without trying to work out who she is. If you push me, I'd say it's Georgina; the girl has dark hair, and the last time I saw Lucy, which was only yesterday or the day before, she had blonde hair. Not only that, but Lucy was only reported missing yesterday, and I'm pretty sure the – the body has been here for at least a couple of days, not that I'm an expert or anything."

"What's Kelly got to say?"

"He's as unsure as I am," Mitchell said. "There's a mole he recognises, but he doesn't want to hang his hat on it." He could hardly blame the doctor for that. "He said it's probably going to take a blood test or dental records to be sure if we've found Georgina or someone else."

"What about her parents?" Stevens asked. "Can't John or Verity make an identification? Surely they're best suited to say one way or another if the girl you've found is Georgina."

Mitchell didn't answer that straight away, instead he thought back to his last visit to the Ryders. "I don't think so," he said. "They're not coping with things very well, Verity especially, and the body isn't very recognisable. Georgina, if it is her, must have gone through hell; her killer - he left her bruised and battered all over by the looks of it, especially her face, and something was...something was carved into her stomach – words, I couldn't make out what because of all the blood. I don't think either John or Verity would have much luck identifying her, and even if I thought they could, I wouldn't want to put them through it.

"I'm sure it will be a simple enough job for the pathologist to identify her from dental records or medical records or something."

"Okay, that's your decision, Lewis." Stevens changed the subject then. "I know you haven't long got there, and this is your first time dealing with a murder, but have you got any idea who could be responsible? I find it hard to believe that it could be anyone we know."

"I wish I had a clue," Mitchell said. "I don't, though. Like you, I can't believe anyone in the village, anyone we know, could be responsible for this, but that only leaves Mr Wild." He dropped his voice as he said that, not wanting the person in question to hear him. "I've never met the guy before today, so I don't have a clue what he might be capable of, though, to be honest, I can't see why he would tell us about the body if he's responsible for it. Especially since, if it is Georgina, she's been here for up to a week without being found.

"Chances are, she would have remained here almost indefinitely without us knowing she was here."

Stevens was silent for a few moments. "I know what you're going to say; it doesn't make sense, at least to us," he said eventually. "But you do hear of people who commit crimes and then almost dare the police to catch them. I can't say I understand why anyone would do that, but they do; like the parents who go on TV to make an appeal for the return of a missing child, when they're responsible for the child's disappearance. Maybe Mr Wild is one of those kinds of people." He sighed, unhappy with the thought that someone like that might have moved to Oakhurst. "There is another possibility," he said, his mind racing as he sought alternatives to the unpalatable thought that someone he knew was a murderer.

"What's that?" Mitchell asked. He couldn't think of a single other possibility – he was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that there had been a murder in his quiet little village.

"Someone from outside the village could be responsible," Stevens said. "It might even be that the girl is neither Georgina nor Lucy, but someone from town, or even elsewhere. I realise it's pretty unlikely, but it is something we have to consider."

"Yes, sir." Mitchell had his doubts about his superior's suggestion, but chose not to mention them. "While I've got you, I need you to arrange a few things for me. I need a coroner and a forensics team, Mike to come out here and keep an eye on the body until they can get here, and I need to know if you're going to get a detective to come in and handle the investigation."

"I think that's something we should discuss when we get to the station."

"...don't you drive that Aston Martin I've seen around the village?"

Zack had to laugh at the question from the young constable, though he quickly stopped when he remembered they