ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-SEVEN
The dawn crept up from the East, sparkling through a light shower as raindrops, glimmering like diamonds, slid down the windows of the Alfa as Grace and Terry made their way through the Pennine foothills towards Lower Tetney, followed by another one-man patrol car.
Grace, despite her previous belief that they were on the right track, for some reason felt unaccountably nervous. Was she on a wild goose chase or could they be close to solving the murders of all four victims of the killer?
She did not have a good night, tossing and turning, disturbing Terry as she did so, so that both were still tired as they set out for Lower Tetney at just before 6am.
They drove through the village, pretty stone houses facing onto the eastern slopes of the hills, with a village po
