"I've only been to Pen Crags five or six times in my thirty years with the county," Ray admitted. "Mostly about livestock rustling and possession of unlicensed firearms. Other stuff seems to be dealt with in the parish. I've no idea what will happen when we get there today, or who we'll be able to speak with."
"I hope we're not in for more frustration," Martin said gloomily. "The morning was bad enough."
"Something bothering you?"
"The whole thing seems weird," Martin said, his face betraying his puzzlement. "The more I think about it the more I get bad vibes. Nothing stacks up. A healthy guy has a stroke out of nowhere. And a couple of seasoned criminals flee into the night like terrified schoolboys. There's no sense to it. And all we have to go on is a sinister atmosphere, which may o
