Page 79 of A Game of Lies

‘What time’s handover?’ she says.

‘Another half-hour.’

‘Media?’ As Ffion nods at the row of vehicles, she sees the side door of the satellite van slide open.

‘They’ve been arriving for the past few hours. I told them DCI Boccacci would be holding a press conference at Bryndare, but they want to speak to someone at the—’ He breaks off to speak to a woman wearing a beige raincoat belted at the waist. ‘Can I ask you to wait in your vehicle please, madam?’

‘Are you a detective?’ The woman addresses Ffion. ‘Can I get a few words from you?’

‘You wouldn’t like them,’ Ffion says.

‘I understand the television producer Miles Young has been murdered. Do you have a comment about the investigation?’

‘Where did you hear that?’ Ffion opens the five-bar gate across the driveway and slips through it.

‘It’s all over social media. I think the original story came from a YouTuber called …’ the woman tails off, trying to remember.

‘Zee bloody Hart,’ mutters Ffion, as she marches around the side of the farmhouse and into the courtyard. There are no signs of life from the stable rooms, and no lights on in the main house. Behind the courtyard, the mountain is clinging on to the pinky hues of this morning’s sunrise. As she and Dave head up the path away from Carreg Plas, Dave takes an enthusiastic leap over a stream and lands on his nose in the boggy ground surrounding it.

‘Part dog, part elephant,’ Ffion mutters. She looks at her watch. Still another twenty minutes till she’s due to meet Huw at theExposurecamp.

‘I need the bolt cutters,’ she’d said, when she rang him last night.

‘You what?’

‘You got custody of them in the divorce.’ Ffion was at home, stabbing the plastic on a microwave curry.

‘I did,’ Huw said. ‘Because they’re mine.’

Ffion stabbed a few more times, for good measure. ‘Can I borrow them, then?’

‘What do you want them for?’

‘I need to open the box of secrets in theExposurecamp. I tried today with a screwdriver, but I snapped the bloody handle off.’

‘I’ll do it for you.’

‘It’s fine, just leave them by the back door, and I’ll swing by and—’

‘I don’t mind. First thing in the morning? Meet you up there?’

Ffion paused midway through putting her curry in the microwave. ‘Why are you being so nice?’

‘Because last time you borrowed tools from me, you lost my favourite spanner.’

‘Only you could have a favourite spanner.’ Ffion selectedhighand pressedstart. ‘See you in camp.’

Ffion sees the perimeter fence up ahead, and the flash of fluorescent she knows will be Dario Kimber. She remembers Zee Hart’s insinuation that the security guard was up to no good –I’ve been timing his walks around the perimeter and some of them take way longer than others– and decides she’ll put her extra twenty minutes to good use. She calls Dave, who is nosing something that looks horribly like a rotting animal, and follows the fence to where Zee’s dark blue tent is pitched.

The flap of the tent is half open and a gentle snoring sound comes from inside. Ffion is just contemplating how to announce her arrival when Dave does the job for her, barrelling his boggy paws and stinking snout into the tent.

It’s difficult to scream when you’re winded, but Zee manages admirably. The noise propels a terrified Dave back outside, where he attempts to climb up Ffion’s legs.

Zee, still in her sleeping bag, has shuffled outside. ‘What just happened?’

‘Consider it an alarm call.’

‘What do you want?’ Zee reaches for her phone.

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