Free Broadchurch by Erin Kelly, Chris Chibnall Page A

heart.’
    You don’t have to tell me that, thinks Hardy. ‘You said you remembered something about seeing him.’
    Jack gives a curt nod, as though he’s speaking under duress. ‘Must’ve been end of last month. Around a quarter to eight, on a Wednesday morning. Up past Jocelyn Knight’s house. On the road leading up to the clifftops, near Linton Hill. I saw him.’
    ‘What was he doing?’
    ‘Talking to the postman.’ Jack slices through the twine that binds the stack of newspapers with a sharp bright Stanley knife. ‘Well, not talking. More like arguing. I was quite far off. But the body language was pretty clear. Then Danny got on his bike and stormed off. The postman was calling after him.’
    ‘You’re certain it was a postman?’ says Hardy. Jack isn’t wearing glasses, and doesn’t look like the contact lens type.
    ‘Who else is going to be out that time in the morning? Anyway, he had a bag. And one of those high-visibility jackets.’
    ‘Describe him to me.’
    ‘He was a long way off. Medium height, short brown hair, I think. It was only after you were in yesterday that I remembered. I should’ve mentioned it.’
    Yes, thinks Hardy. You should have. So why didn’t you?
     
    The Latimer house smells stale, like a bedroom that needs airing. It’s the wrong time of year to keep the windows closed but the press have started to arrive outside and they need shutting out; if they’re not pointing their cameras, they’re making phone calls or bantering loudly.
    ‘This is DC Pete Lawson,’ Ellie introduces the gangly young man at her side. ‘He’ll be your Family Liaison Officer, keep you up to date with the investigation, answer your questions, talk to you about any questions we might have. It’s a specialised job. Pete’s just completed his training.’
    ‘You’re my first!’ says Pete cheerily, his smile fading as he catches Ellie’s fury. Of all the inappropriate things…
    ‘But you know us,’ says Beth, echoing Ellie’s thoughts.
    ‘The best thing I can do for you is find who killed Danny, and I will.’
    Ellie lets Pete take charge of the elimination prints, willing him not to fuck it up.
    Only Mark kicks up a fuss. ‘Is this really necessary?’ he says, as Liz rocks an inked thumb from side to side on the paper. He’s insulted, Ellie can see that, and she understands. Even burglary victims give their prints indignantly. It’s human nature: intellectually, people know that they’re making a positive contribution to the investigation, but some people feel they’re being processed like a suspect. Ellie cannot begin to imagine how much worse it must be after losing a child. Mark gives his prints, but reluctantly, shaking his head throughout. When the whole family has been done, he asks, ‘When can we start arranging the funeral?’ His voice catches on the word.
    Knowing this question was coming doesn’t make the answer any easier. ‘That has to wait,’ says Ellie. ‘Until we have the person responsible in custody, Danny’s – his body – is the… look, I have to talk about it this way, I’m sorry – it’s the most valuable piece of evidence we have. We can’t allow him to be buried until we’re sure we have the right person, and the right evidence to convict them.’
    ‘We can’t have him back?’ says Beth, horrified.
    ‘Not yet. Sorry.’
    ‘He’s not evidence,’ says Chloe. ‘He’s my brother .’
    ‘I know. Really I do,’ says Ellie, well aware that she hasn’t got a clue.
    Beth raises her eyebrows in a silent query to Mark. He nods, and brings out a piece of paper which he hands to Ellie.
    ‘We made a list,’ he says. ‘Of people who might have done it.’
    Ellie unfolds it and reads in dismay. She knows most of the names on it. They have included any male with the slightest prominence in the community, and there is naturally some overlap with Wessex Police’s own suspect list. And when they ran out of strangers, Beth and Mark looked closer to