Lane's End by Jill Paterson

weapon,’ asked Fitzjohn.
    ‘No, but we have located the young lady’s car hidden in some bushes behind the house at the front of the property.’
    With the heat in the cottage building, Fitzjohn took his handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed his forehead before they made their way outside. There, in the face of a cooling sea breeze, he walked to the edge of the cliff and looked down to the rocks below. They walked in silence for a time back through the property to their car, Fitzjohn smoothing down the few remaining wisps of hair left on top of his head as he went. ‘Of course, there is sort of a family connection between Emma Phillips and Rachael Carmichael through Emma’s engagement to Ben Carmichael,’ he said at last. ‘But I wonder if that connection extends to this attack on Emma and the death of Rachael?’
    ‘You’ve lost me, sir,’ replied Betts as they made their way out of Lane’s End to their car.
    ‘Well, it’s just that Emma Phillips was conducting research into Rachael Carmichael’s artistic life for a book on artists, wasn’t she?’
    ‘That’s right,’ replied Betts.
    ‘So, as part of her research, Emma came here to the place where Rachael had worked and died. I think there’s every chance that she stumbled upon something to do with Rachael’s death. What hospital did DCI Roberts say Ms Phillips was taken to?’
    ‘North Shore, sir.’
    ‘Mmm. The same hospital that Richard Carmichael died in only days ago. It can’t have been easy for his son to return there so soon,’ replied Fitzjohn thoughtfully.
     
     
    Fitzjohn and Betts arrived at North Shore Hospital and made their way to the Intensive Care Unit. There they found Ben Carmichael pacing the floor outside the unit. ‘Mr Carmichael,’ said Fitzjohn, walking toward him. Ben, his face ragged and drawn, stopped pacing and looked toward the two officers. ‘We understand your fiancée has been found.’
    ‘Yes, thank God. I found her this morning at Lane’s End.’
    ‘And how is she?’
    ‘I’m not sure.’ Ben shook his head. ‘The doctors have put her in a medically induced coma. They said it would be just until the swelling in her brain recedes, although I’m told that there’s no telling how long it could take before she’s conscious again.’
    ‘And no way of knowing who attacked her,’ said Fitzjohn. Ben shook his head. ‘In that case, we’ll leave what we want to talk to you about until another time, Mr Carmichael. Perhaps tomorrow if things improve for Emma.’
    ‘Tomorrow’s my father’s funeral, Chief Inspector.’ Ben ran his hand through his dark wavy hair. ‘If you have more questions about Peter Van Goren, I don’t think I can tell you any more than I already have. I honestly didn’t know the man.’
    ‘It isn’t Mr Van Goren we want to ask you about, Mr Carmichael. It’s about Emma,’ replied Fitzjohn.
    ‘Oh? I was under the impression another police officer was handling that case. Roberts I think he said his name is.’
    ‘That’s correct. DCI Roberts is in charge of Emma’s case. However, we wondered if you might be able to identify the people in a photograph that was found on the floor where Emma was found.’
    ‘I didn’t notice a photo there, but then the room was in darkness.’
    ‘It’d been torn in pieces and scattered.’ Fitzjohn looked to Betts who brought a photograph, encased in a plastic sleeve, out from a folder he held. He handed it to Ben. ‘It’s been pieced together and as you can see, some of the faces aren’t clear. Even so, we hoped you might have some idea who the people are.’
    Ben Carmichael stared at the image in silence before he said, ‘It’s a photograph of Joanna and me with our mother. I found a similar one in the cottage on the floor under the easel. Its frame had been shattered and it looked like someone had ground the photo into the floor with the heel of their shoe.’
    ‘Do you know who the other people in this photo are?’ asked