Chapter 99
Halfway down the garden was a potting shed – walls of thin wooden slats.
The door was unlocked – nothing of value inside, a tower of terracotta pots, stacked inside each other, a garden fork, a spade, a rake.
Cook grabbed the spade, feeling its heft.
Not the perfect tool for the job, but it would do.
Sheffield steel, designed and manufactured for punishing work, day in, day out.
The Anderson shelter was undisturbed, still locked. The neat gravel path leading down three steps.
The padlock would be stronger than the spade.
It was looped through a metal hoop on the door, overlaying a piece of flat metal screwed into a wooden doorframe – the weakest part of the security arrangement.
Cook wedged the edge of the spade between the metal plate and the door frame.
The spade was four feet long. A lot of leverage.
He tested the spade’s strength. He wasn’t worried about the steel. It was the handle that would give – ash wood, dried and cracked. Beaumont was evidently not a man who took care of his tools.
The handle creaked, but held. Cook gave it more, and the metal plate popped off the door frame. Cook pulled the door open.
The shelter had been locked for days. Possibly weeks. He was prepared for what he might find. Or so he thought.
A cloud of flies filled the air, disturbed by the opening door. Cook put his hand over his mouth against the stench, but he had to turn back.
Gracie pushed past him.
She turned away and rushed from the shelter, vomiting into the grass.
*
Inside the shelter, a large mass moved in the darkness. As his eyes adjusted, Cook saw more clearly. Maggots. Thousands of them. Tens of thousands. Underneath them, a corpse.
It was a shape and size any farmer would know instantly. An adult pig. Against the rules to keep one for your own use. Difficult to get rid of, if you wanted to suddenly leave. Not like you could load it up in the car.
‘When was the last time you saw him?’ Cook asked.
‘Couple of nights ago,’ Gracie said. ‘Doing his rounds.’
‘So if he hasn’t been staying here,’ Cook asked, ‘where’s he been hiding?’