Chris looked at the array of digital graphs and numbers, trying to remember how some of them had been reading the last time he looked, a few hours ago. In particular, the ones monitoring her brain activity. Was it his imagination, he wondered, or were there deeper spikes and troughs than before?

  Bluebell looked asleep again now. But she was seemingly breathing fine, unaided.

  Dr Shah nodded for them to follow him. They walked a short distance along the ward, past all the other occupied beds, and stopped by the nurses’ station.

  ‘She’s doing great, don’t you think?’ Katy asked excitedly.

  The registrar hesitated. ‘It is a very positive sign that she is breathing unaided, Katy, but . . .’ He fell silent.

  ‘But what?’ Chris prompted.

  Shah looked at each of them solemnly. ‘I told you at the very start I would always be truthful to you.’ He hesitated, as if uncertain how to go on. ‘Yes, it is good that Bluebell is breathing unaided. But we have concerns about her brain activity. I did tell you that an induced coma carries risks of brain damage. The brain patterns you can see, with some of the uneven spikes, indicates her brain is not functioning as well as we could hope, and her speech confirms this—’

  ‘Please don’t tell us she is brain-damaged,’ Katy blurted.

  Shah looked back at her evenly. ‘I cannot tell you one way or the other at the moment. But on the positive side, what Bluebell has going for her is that she is so young that her brain is still developing. The consultant neurologist, Dr Nightingale, was here a short while ago, and he thinks there is a reasonable chance her neural pathways will re-route.’

  ‘How reasonable?’ Katy asked. ‘What percentage chance?’

  ‘On a scale of one to ten?’ Chris pressed.

  Shah shook his head. ‘I really can’t give you that figure, because I just don’t know.’

  ‘But you’ve had past experience handling rabies cases in Pakistan, right?’ Chris went on.

  ‘I have, Chris. But not a single one of those who weren’t vaccinated survived. This is different.’

  ‘Fine, so, give us a percentage chance – of Bluebell returning to one hundred per cent normal?’ he pressed again.

  He looked at both of them, in turn. ‘I can’t do that, I just don’t know.’

  ‘Try, give us a figure,’ Katy said. ‘Eighty per cent? Seventy per cent?’

  Shah shook his head. ‘I’d have to say fifty per cent, at best.’

  113

  Sunday 18 April

  ‘Wake up, sleepyhead!’

  Roy Grace, emerging confused from deep sleep, opened his eyes to see bright daylight, the curtains wide open giving him a view of the downland hill beyond their garden, dotted with sheep looking like dozens of miniature clouds stuck to the steep incline with magnets. He felt a deadweight on his legs.

  Cleo was standing over him, in jeans and a baggy jumper, a big smile on her face.

  ‘Wake up, Daddy!’ Noah, lying beside him, said.

  The deadweight was Humphrey.

  ‘What – what’s the time?’ Grace murmured.

  ‘Midday,’ Cleo said.

  ‘No way.’ He glanced at his wristwatch in shock. ‘I don’t sleep to midday, ever.’

  ‘Exactly!’ she retorted. ‘Clearly the boss inside your head decided you needed to.’

  He tried to move his legs, but Humphrey would not budge.

  ‘Can we go to zoo, Daddy, want to see penguins! You said we could go!’

  Grace cuddled his son. ‘You want to go to Drusillas?’

  Noah nodded vigorously.

  ‘OK. Daddy’s going to shower and have some breakfast and then we’ll go, yes?’

  ‘Yayyyyyyyyyy! Penguins!’

  Grace smiled happily. Happy for the normality, for the grounding his family gave him in the dark and often skewed world in which he worked. The raids on the two farms had produced even more results than he or any of his team had hoped. But, as he well knew from long and frustrating experience, arrests were only the beginning – the base camp at the bottom of a steep and treacherous slope.

  The Crown Prosecution Service demanded a realistic prospect of conviction at court, combined with a bullet-proof chain of evidence before sanctioning a major criminal charge. Convincing them was often harder than catching the villains.

  With nine suspects arrested, and only a limited time to keep them in custody, the evidence required to charge them had been challenging but there was enough to charge seven of them and have three remanded in custody. They had been working around the clock for the past two weeks since the raid to develop the case. And with the RSPCA, Public Health England and DEFRA all involved, Operation Brush had become a story of national media interest – and that had added to his workload.

  So far, the experts had been able, through forensic examination of Dallas Jim’s clothing, the vehicle seats, his mobile phone and the onboard computers of both vehicles, to put him behind the wheel of both the Range Rover that fatally injured Tim Ruddle and the Dodge RAM that forced Lyndsey Cheetham’s Nissan off the road and into a tree. That and other evidence had been enough to formally charge him with two counts of murder. Terry Jim had been charged with the attempted murder of Rosalind Esche and conspiracy to murder Lyndsey Cheetham, and his wife, Rula, also charged in connection with these offences. Terry, Rula and Dallas Jim had also been charged with conspiracy to traffic dogs, the illegal importation of dogs, and unlicensed breeding and sale of dogs, cruelty to animals, as well as forgery. All three of them had had bail applications rejected and were remanded in custody.

  Others, including Geoff Taylor and two farmhands, Jason Keele and Aaron Keele, believed to have been in the two vehicles that fatally injured Tim Ruddle, as well as Rula Jim’s daughter, Darcy, were released pending further investigation. Two other farmhands were also released for further enquiries to be made. The supposed ‘Mrs Hartley’ Roy and Cleo had met had thus far eluded them. Monitoring all the charges as well as hours and hours with the Exhibits Officer and his own team, holding a press conference and giving updates to the Chief Officer team, had pushed him to the limits during these past two weeks.

  But there was one thing that had made him smile. It was when he’d told Cleo the full story behind Humphrey’s kidnapping, and that in a bizarre kind of way, Gecko had been doing them a favour. She’d replied, I’m still glad I kicked him in the nuts. It felt good!

  A short while later, showered and still feeling dazed from having slept so long, Grace sat at the kitchen table nursing a double espresso, then sliced the top off one of his two boiled eggs, shook some salt onto the bulk of the egg, and glanced back at the front page of the Sunday Times.

  ‘So, superhero cop is a Big Endian!’

  He frowned at Cleo. ‘A what?’

  ‘You never read Gulliver’s Travels?’

  ‘Another gap in my education?’

  She gave him a sad nod. ‘Afraid so. The Big Endians were one of two tribes engaged in a long war over whether you should cut the top off the small or the big end of a boiled egg.’

  ‘And who won?’

  ‘Neither side. Like most wars.’ She gestured with her hand. ‘See, you’ve cut off the big end of one of your eggs. Is there a subliminal message in that?’

  He smiled. ‘That it depends on the size of the egg – and the spoon?’

  Cleo shook her head. ‘Glenn was right, wasn’t he? Something he said a long time ago.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘That you always answer a question with a question.’

  ‘Do I?’

  She gave him a playful punch.

  On the floor beside the table, Molly crawled around on her playmat, hitting musical notes on the coloured keyboards. Noah sat opposite his father, messily spooning something that looked like porridge into his mouth.

  ‘Not going for a run today?’ Cleo asked.

  Grace shook his head. He felt like a drain plug had been pulled inside him. ‘I’m done. Today is penguin day. Today is celebration day. Today is cherish Cleo, Noah and Molly day.’

  Alongside the stack of Sunday papers they both loved to read was a copy of yesterday’s Argus. The front page headline was that Rosalind Esche had been nominated for an RSPCA bravery award. Grace had nominated her for it, and he was glad she was getting something for the almost unimaginable suffering she’d been through. The young woman was still in hospital. Hours of standing up, without respite, had caused problems with her kidneys and liver, and she was extremely lucky to be alive. He was planning to visit her tomorrow.

  ‘Is there any update on that poor little girl – Bluebell?’ Cleo asked. ‘I can’t imagine how her parents must be feeling.’

  He smiled. ‘There is some seriously good news. I checked with the hospital last night and spoke to a doctor there – Anish Shah. He was guarded, but said she has turned a huge corner, and he is confident she will, in good time, make a full recovery.’

  ‘That’s incredible, beating all the odds?’

  ‘It is. She’s one of the few people to have survived it, it’s going to be massive news. The doctor said she was a fighter and she clearly is – a real fighter.’

  She looked at him knowingly. ‘Like my brave soldier is, right?’

  He grinned. ‘You think?’

  ‘There you go, another question answered with a question!’

  ‘And here’s another – OK? Which end do I cut off my second egg? The big or the little?’

  Cleo hesitated. ‘Before you make that momentous decision, there’s something I want to ask you.’

  ‘OK, tell me?’

  She looked coy. ‘You know we want another dog?’

  Roy Grace said a very slow and steady, ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘I’ve had the RSPCA contact me after our interest with a possible match for us – a really sweet rescue boy.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  She nodded vigorously. ‘Want to see the picture?’

  Grinning, Grace replied, ‘You know the answer already, don’t you? That if I see the photo, I’ll say yes.’

  She put her hands on her hips. ‘I’m not trying to coerce you.’

  ‘I totally understand that.’

  ‘Remember when we went to Rome, to the Colosseum, where the gladiators fought?’

  Grace frowned. ‘Yes – does this have something to do with this dog?’

  ‘It does. The audience were asked to vote on whether the defeated gladiator lived or died, by putting their thumbs up or down. So, I’m giving you the opportunity to say yay or nay, by choosing which end of your second egg you cut off. The big or the little. Big is yes, small is no. OK?’

  Grinning again, he shook his head, then picked the hot egg up from its cup and studied it thoughtfully. ‘So long as you can tell me the answer to the eternal question of which came first – the chicken or the egg?’

  Cleo looked at him with mock exasperation. ‘There you go again. Answering a question with a question.’

  He reached across to the knife rack, drew out a small, heavy machete and cleanly sliced off one end of the egg.

  GLOSSARY

  ANPR – Automatic Number Plate Recognition. Roadside or mobile cameras that automatically capture the registration number of all cars that pass. It can be used to historically track which cars went past a certain camera, and can also create a signal for cars which are stolen, have no insurance or have an alert attached to them.

  CID – Criminal Investigation Department. Usually refers to the divisional detectives rather than the specialist squads.

  CPS – Crown Prosecution Service.

  CSI – Crime Scene Investigators. Formerly SOCO (Scenes of Crime Officers). They are the people who attend crime scenes to search for fingerprints, DNA samples etc.

  DIGITAL FORENSICS – The unit which examines and investigates computers and other digital devices.

  FLO – Family Liaison Officer.

  MO – Modus Operandi (method of operation). The manner by which the offender has committed the offence. Often this can reveal unique features which allow crimes to be linked or suspects to be identified.

  SIO – Senior Investigating Officer. Usually a Detective Chief Inspector who is in overall charge of the investigation of a major crime such as murder, kidnap or rape.

  CHART OF POLICE RANKS

  Police ranks are consistent across all disciplines and the addition of prefixes such as ‘detective’ (e.g. detective constable) does not affect seniority relative to others of the same rank (e.g. police constable).

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I’m often asked whether any of my research into the very dark side of life keeps me awake at night. The answer is yes, but I can honestly say that few things have shocked me more than what I learned during the research for this novel, and above all else, the sheer horror of the disease called rabies.

  I seem to be blessed, every time I research a new novel, to meet one person who somehow, almost magically, unlocks the key for me, and with this book I owe enormous thanks to Dr Rodney Willoughby of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, specialist in Paediatric Infectious Diseases. I can honestly say it would have been a lesser story without his incredible help.

  Another person who went over and above everything I could have hoped for is Detective Chief Inspector Andy Wolstenholme of the Surrey and Sussex Major Crime Team. Chapeau, Andy!

  I want to also give a very special mention to the RSPCA, who have been immensely and enthusiastically helpful in all aspects of my research for this book. In particular, Patrick Bulley, Sarah Howlett, Emily Prideaux, Chloe Wallace and Inspector Kirsty Withnall.

  A special shout-out to Ashley and Yulia Beal of Swiss Watches Direct for their help and for their generous donation to the RSB Charitable Foundation.

  As ever, so many in Sussex Police have given me invaluable research help. A very big thank you to Police and Crime Commissioner Katy Bourne, OBE, to Chief Constable Jo Shiner, who shares my passion for dogs, and to so many officers and support staff actively serving under them, as well as retirees, from Sussex and other forces. I’ve listed them in alphabetical order and beg forgiveness for any omissions.

  Police Dog Handler Simon Ashton; Inspector James Biggs; PC Jon Bennion-Jones; Chief Inspector Steve Biglands; PC Olli Brooks; Chief Superintendent Justin Burtenshaw; Financial Investigator Emily Denyer; Rural Crime Coordinator Sergeant Tom Carter; CSI James Gartrell; CSI Chris Gee; Aiden Gilbert, Digital Forensics; PC Robbie Groom; Meagan Robinson; Chief Officer, States of Jersey Police, Robin Smith; James Stather, Forensic Services; Major Crime Team Investigator Pauline Sweeney; PC Richard Trundle; Beth Durham, Suzanne Heard, Jill Pedersen and Katie Perkins of Sussex Police Corporate Communications; Chief Inspector Andrew Westwood.

  Retired Officers: Chief Superintendent Graham Bartlett; Chief Constable of Kent, Alan Pughlsey QPM; Sergeant Russell Phillips; Detective Superintendent Nick Sloan; DS Mark Taylor.

  Heartfelt thanks also to Mark Abramson MBE, Niamh Bartlett, Pete Bryant, Sean Didcott, Dominic Fortnam, Andrew Le Gallais OBE, Anna-Lisa Hancock, Andy Harding, John Hartnett, Andrew Henwood, Bob Hurst, Danielle Kaelin, Haydn Kelly, Joseph Langford, Richard Le Quesne, Dr James Mair, David Martin, Dr Adrian Noon, Dr Graham Ramsden, Kit Robinson, Charlotte Seaman and the team at Airpets, Alan Setterington, Helen Shenston, John Stewart, Amanda Stretton, Orlando Trujillo.

  A massive thank you as always to Wayne Brookes, my superstar editor (!), and the team at Pan Macmillan – to name just a few: Jonathan Atkins, Kinza Azira, Lara Borlenghi, Emily Bromfield, Laura Carr, Siân Chilvers, Alex Coward, Stuart Dwyer, Claire Evans, Lucy Hale, Hollie Howe, Daniel Jenkins, Christine Jones, Rebecca Kellaway, Neil Lang, Rebecca Lloyd, Sara Lloyd, James Long, Holly Martin, Ellah Mwale, Rory O’Brien, Joanna Prior, Guy Raphael, Jeremy Trevathan, Charlotte Williams, Leanne Williams. And my brilliant freelance editors: Susan Opie, Nicole Foster, Karen Whitlock, Liz Hatherell and Fraser Crichton.

  And, prior to leaving, Sam Fletcher.

  A huge thank you to my amazing literary agent Isobel Dixon and to everyone at my UK Literary Agency, Blake Friedmann. Lizzy Attree, Sian Ellis-Martin, Julian Friedmann, Hana Murrell, James Pusey, Conrad Williams, Daisy Way. And a big three cheers to my fabulously gifted UK PR team at Riot Communications: Caitlin Allen, Emily Souders, Niamh Houston and Hedvig Lindstrom.

  Although the act of writing itself is a solitary job, I’m blessed with a brilliant support team to help with so much behind the scenes. Dani Brown, Erin Brown, Eagle-eyed Margaret Duncton, Sarah Middle, Emma Gallichan, Mark Tuckwell, Chris Diplock and Chris Webb, along with the wider early reading team of Martin Diplock, Jane Diplock and Lyn Gaylor have all been invaluable to me and I appreciate all they do. And sadly, in memoriam, Sue Ansell, who was a wonderful early reader of every single book I have written.

  I’m blessed with two incredibly talented and hardworking people: my wife, Lara, and former Detective Chief Superintendent David Gaylor, who head up Team James.

  David Gaylor brings a brilliant range of skills, many of which are from his police background, and contributes so much to my novels, most importantly of all, the authenticity of every aspect of policing I depict. He does the same with the stage plays as well as being retained police advisor to the GRACE TV series, also.

  My wife, Lara, deserves a whole row of gold stars, for being so brilliant at analysing my characters, the storylines, and always being incredibly in tune with the mood and ways of our times. And for just being such a brilliant and patient person. And she too has helped shape each of the stage plays as well as the television series, GRACE.

  In a troubled world that often feels so dark, all our animals in our ever-growing menagerie bring a touch of lightness. Their antics, whether it’s our pygmy goats prancing around, or our gorgeous but rather aggressive rooster, Billy-Big Balls, attacking our wellies, or our guinea fowl rapping on our kitchen window in the morning, demanding sweetcorn, always bring a smile to our faces. Thank you to all our amazing creatures who enrich our lives – Spooky our labradoodle, Wally our goldendoodle, our two Burmese cats, our comical ducks, forty hens, rabbits, quail, guinea fowl, Kakariki parrots, budgies, canaries and finches.