The Calling of the Grave Read Online Free PDF Page B

heard her settling down into the chair.
        'So
how did it go?' she asked.
        Being
outmanoeuvred by Wainwright no longer seemed so important. 'Oh . . . could have
been worse. Terry Connors is deputy SIO, so at least there's a familiar face.'
        'Terry?
Well, tell him to give my love to Deborah.' She didn't sound too pleased. 'Do
you know yet how long you'll be there?'
        'At
least another couple of days. I'll be at the mortuary tomorrow, but they're
going to start looking for more graves, so it depends on how that goes.'
        We
spoke for a while longer until it was time for Kara to put Alice to bed.
Wishing I was there to read her a story, I washed and changed before going down
to the bar. I'd forgotten the landlord's warning that they would be stopping
serving food, and the twenty-minute curfew was almost up. He looked pointedly
at his watch as I ordered, mouth set in a disapproving line.
        'Another
two minutes and you'd be too late,' he snapped.
        'Lucky
I was in time, then.'
        Tight-lipped,
he went off to get my order. There were other people in the bar now, more than
a few of them police officers or connected with the investigation in some way,
I guessed. There was only one free table, so I took my drink over to it. A
solitary young woman sat at the next table, absently forking up food as she
read from an open folder next to her plate. She didn't look up when I sat down.
        The
landlord came over with cutlery. 'You can't sit here, this table's reserved.'
        'It
doesn't say it's reserved.'
        'It
doesn't have to,' he said with petty triumph. 'You'll have to move.'
        I
couldn't be bothered to argue. I looked around for somewhere else to sit, but
the only space nearby was at the young woman's table.
        'Do
you mind—' I began, but the landlord pre-empted me by slapping the cutlery
down.
        'You'll
have to share,' he declared before stalking off. The young woman looked from
him to me in surprise.
        I
gave an embarrassed smile. 'Service and charm. This place has it all.'
        'Wait
till you try the food.' She closed the folder, looking irritated.
        'I
can find somewhere else if it's a problem,' I offered.
        For a
second I could see she was tempted, but then she thought better of it. She
waved a hand at the chair.
        'No,
it's fine. I've finished anyway.' She set down her fork and pushed away her
plate.
        She
was attractive in an unobtrusive way. She wore old jeans and a loose sweater,
her thick auburn hair pulled casually back with a plain band. She struck me as
someone who didn't worry too much about how she looked, but didn't have to.
Kara was the same. She could throw on anything and still look good.
        I
glanced at the folder she'd been reading. Even upside down I'd recognized what looked
like a police report. 'Are you here on the investigation?' I asked.
        She
pointedly picked up the folder and tucked it into her bag. 'Are you a
reporter?'
        There
was frost in her voice. 'Me? God, no,' I said, surprised. 'Sorry, my name's
David Hunter, I'm a forensic anthropologist. Part of Simms' team.'
        She
relaxed, giving me a self-conscious smile. 'You'll have to excuse me. I get a
little paranoid when anyone starts quizzing me about work. And yes, I am on the
investigation.' She held out her hand. 'Sophie Keller.'
        Her
grip was firm, her hand strong and dry. She was clearly used to negotiating her
way through the traditionally male police environment.
        'So
what do you do, Sophie? Or is that being nosy again?'
        She
smiled. She had a good smile. 'I'm a BIA. That's Behavioural Investigative
Advisor.' 'Right.'
        There
was a pause. She laughed. 'It's all right, I'm not sure what a forensic
anthropologist does either.'
        'Is a
BIA like a profiler?' I asked, reminding myself to be diplomatic. That wasn't a
field I had much faith in.
        'There's
a