22
She called him into her office after he had shown the children out at the end of the day. Unlike most Friday afternoons, he felt down, deflated. The interrogation from the police had left him drained, uncertain. He’d lied and he’d spent the afternoon wishing he hadn’t. He was a fool, because once the truth came out, and they found Charlie’s body, then he would be in serious trouble. It was that thought that percolated through his mind throughout the subsequent hours. Charlie must be dead. He’d hobbled off onto the Moor, dragging his useless foot behind him, fallen into a ditch and broken his big, thick, stupid neck.
Mrs. Winston fixed him with a face even more serious than usual. “I’ve had a phone call, Peter.”
Salmon jerked his head up. Almost at once, he felt he wanted to be sick a
