Free The Killing Season by Mark Pearson

and Safety is a field operation first and foremost, Mr Delaney. Sure, there is a lot of paperwork involved. But we as a profession are very far from desk jockeys. Very far indeed.’
    I could feel myself losing the will to live with every passing second that I spent in Dudley’s company. I was relieved to see Henry Hill running up the short hill to where we were stood. Until I saw the expression on his face, that was.
    ‘Don’t worry about him now, Jack,’ he said breathlessly.
    ‘Now hold on a minute—’
    ‘Why, what’s happened?’ I cut across the health-and-safety officer, interrupting him before he got into full flow again.
    ‘They’ve found a dead body.’

15
     
    THE WIND WAS picking up by the second as we stood on the beach. An excoriating wind. I decided it was time to go home and get my overcoat: the leather jacket alone just wasn’t cutting it in this climate.
    Maybe I was just getting old.
    Fortunately, Henry Hill came across and handed me a Puffa-style coat that would fit over my own. It was warm and cut the wind-chill factor significantly. Gratefully, I slipped my hands into a pair of gloves that he’d also brought and bent down to look at the body. Or, rather, at the hand that was protruding from the fall of soil and clay.
    A uniformed sergeant was standing with us, a couple of constables in the background.
    ‘This is a bit outside of our bailiwick, sir,’ said the sergeant, a beefy florid-faced man in his forties with thinning reddish hair and friendly green eyes.
    ‘You don’t have to call me “sir”,’ I replied. ‘I’m on sabbatical and, as your super has pointed out, not on her team.’
    ‘I’ll call you “sir” all the same, if that’s OK?’ he replied. ‘We all know who you are. We read the newspapers and watch the news even out here in the sticks.’
    ‘Newspapers exaggerate.’
    ‘Sometimes. But I was on the force when you found the girl in the boot all those years ago and then again last year, when you repeated the trick.’
    ‘Right place, right time is all.’
    ‘You make your own luck in my opinion. Certainly in this job. And don’t pay the super any mind. She doesn’t like hot rods from the Met coming up. Puts her nose out of joint. She thinks that you all reckon you’re something special. You in particular, with all that media coverage.’
    I stood up again and held my hand out. ‘Well, you know who I am,’ I said, prompting him.
    ‘Sergeant Coker – pleased to meet you,’ he responded. ‘Harry Coker.’
    He was about my height but built on grander lines. His grip was very firm. His ruddy portliness belied a great deal of strength – there was a lot of muscle underneath his bulk.
    ‘So what do you think?’ he asked.
    I looked down at the protruding hand again. We were on the beach close to the cliff face, the lifeless hand reaching up through the debris like the scene from
Carrie
, only this hand looked male to me. It was a big hand. Gloved. Part of the wrist was showing, discoloured and emaciated.
    ‘Looks male to me. Maybe attached to a body, hard to tell until SOCO can clear the area. Do you have a forensic unit?’
    The sergeant laughed and shook his head. ‘No. Like I say, this is outside our normal remit. Dead bodies don’t tend to show up a lot in these parts. We have to call in specialist units from South Norwich.’
    ‘Well, he looks like a big man, judging by the hand size, although his emaciated wrist indicates malnourishment. Apart from that, and the discolouration, not much I can add.’
    ‘How long has he been there, do you think?’
    I shrugged. ‘Again, hard to tell. These conditions.’ I gestured towards the lowering storm that was building a few miles out to sea and heading our way.
    ‘You think he was on the beach when the cliff collapsed?’
    ‘It seems likely. But I have learned one thing over the years and that is never to assume too much until the experts have assessed the site and the body.’
    I crouched down to get