Saturday evening
The inquest over, Jon watched seagulls float between village and cloud as he stood on the beach below the village. Pastel cottages dotted the dark hills like Easter eggs hidden in folds of earth. The afternoon rain had passed on and left a sharply briny smell in its wake. The sun sank lower. The last of its rays tinted cottages and businesses orange. Windowpanes sparkled. The glint of muted gold played off wet slate roofs.
He wondered if the delay in confronting Trewe had been the best course of action. He sorted in his mind the details he'd learned about Annie's death, adding things together. The girl hadn't injected herself with drugs. She'd been injected. The killer took her blood. Why? The abuse must have lasted more than a week. There was no way a week of drug takin
