When Yarrow and Harding returned to the heart-rending scene of Rosie’s death, an ambulance had arrived to transport her sad broken body to the morgue and they, and the other officers and the massed onlookers stood in silence, hats off, as the ambulance slowly drove away. A number of the women in the hushed crowd were in tears and Yarrow felt himself welling up, any tragic death only served to remind him of his own loss. And then a baby began to cry, a poignant symbol that even in death, life goes on.
‘How sad,’ murmured Marcus Harding, ‘senseless.’
‘Not much in this world really does makes sense does it?’ mused Yarrow, ’I mean, how can a civilised nation like Germany produce a creature like Hitler. Or Stalin in Russia, men who brought such untold death and misery to the world?’
‘I wish
