Settled Blood by Mari Hannah Page A

the DS figured he was around twenty years old and yet he looked as though he’d worked on the land for years. Unlike the detective, who was
longing to get back to the city, he seemed entirely comfortable in his surroundings.
    Raine stepped forward, stooping to get through the door. Robson offered him a seat but he declined, pointing down at mucky boots that smelled markedly of horse manure.
    ‘Suit yourself,’ Robson said. ‘What was it you thought I should know?’
    ‘It might not mean anything, sir.’
    ‘True. But I won’t know ’til you tell me, right?’
    ‘My cousin Billy is the local constable.’ Raine waited for some recognition from the detective but none was forthcoming. ‘He asked me and some other young farmers if we’d
seen anything, anything out of the ordinary in the last few weeks.’
    ‘And have you?’
    ‘Maybe.’ Remembering his manners, Raine took off his cap. Crushing it in huge, dirty hands he continued. ‘Very early one morning – I mean
really
early –
before the tourists usually arrive, I seen this car parked up at Housesteads with nobody in it.’
    ‘How long ago was this?’
    ‘’Bout three weeks.’
    ‘What were you doing up there?’
    ‘Going for the sheep, like I do every day. When I came down from the pasture I saw a man and a young blonde lass arguing. When they saw me, they hurried back to the car. This was very
close to where Billy said you found the young girl’s body.’
    ‘Who’s Billy?’
    ‘My cousin, the polis!’ Raine frowned. ‘You listening to me?’
    ‘Last name?’
    ‘Raine! Same as me. Cousins, aren’t we?’
    ‘Of course, how stupid of me.’
    ‘You taking the piss? Cos if you are, I’ve got better things to do.’
    Robson felt guilty and dropped the attitude. It wasn’t Raine’s fault that his police career was on a downward spiral, and he certainly couldn’t afford a complaint against him
– especially now. Already mired in the kind of trouble that could cost him his job, the odds of him rescuing his good reputation were slim to say the least.
    ‘Sorry, it’s been a long day. No offence meant.’
    Raine accepted the half-hearted apology and carried on. ‘I seen them again on Tuesday. Same pair. I think she must’ve hurt herself because he was helping her across the field. I was
going to give them a hand, but the man waved me away so I left them to it. Didn’t want to stick my nose in. Wasn’t my business, was it?’
    ‘S’pose not,’ Robson said. ‘You sure it was Tuesday?’
    ‘Aye, it’s market day in Hexham. I was sellin’ stock at the mart later.’ Raine seemed in no doubt. ‘Like I said, it might be nothing. But Billy said I should let
you know about it just in case. He said people should come forward and help in any way they can.’
    ‘He was right. I’ll need your address and a contact number.’
    Robson picked up his pen. As Raine reeled off his details, he began writing them down, hoping he hadn’t sounded as hacked off as he felt. Being left alone at High Shaw when there was very
little going on was not his idea of fun. One local smelling of horse shit was the only person he’d seen all day, apart from PC Hook, who was manning the caravan next door.
    And he was an irritating prick!
    Robson was a team player, not a one-man band. He’d been stewing all morning, aware that he alone was to blame for his predicament, for slipping spectacularly to the bottom of the pecking
order in the murder investigation team. He’d made mistakes on their last enquiry. And when Daniels had given him a second chance, then a third, what had he done? Fucked her over good and
proper, that’s what!
    A one-time loyal member of her team, he’d disgraced himself by passing insider information to Assistant Chief Constable Martin, a hate figure within the Northumbria force. In return for
very little – or so it seemed at the time – Martin had promised him the recognition he deserved both within the squad and beyond. Robson