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 Deadly Tears
A DS Zoe Sanchez Thriller

GS Rhodes

Dark Ship Crime

 Copyright © 2022 GS Rhodes

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real
persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in

any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise,
without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by: MIBL Art

 Also by GS Rhodes
THE DI BENJAMIN KIDD THRILLERS
WHEN YOU'RE SMILING
JUST KEEP BREATHING
YOUR BEST SHOT
BE MY BABY
HAND ON HEART
STICKS AND STONES
ONE LAST SMILE
BEYOND THE SEA (COMING SOON)

THE DS ZOE SANCHEZ THRILLERS

DEADLY TEARS
 Contents

Title Page
Copyright
Also by GS Rhodes
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
DS Zoe Sanchez will return in 2023
Acknowledgement
About The Author
 CHAPTER ONE

Dina Lister knew she was running out of time.

She’d spent what felt like every single night of her life
for the past few weeks at Kingston University, either
badgering her tutors for help or hunkered down in the
library trying to get the information to stick in her head.
She felt like she was getting there, but time was running
out. Deadlines were on the horizon and speeding towards
her much quicker than she would have liked.
She had been studying Creative Writing and English
Literature at the Uni for the past two years and was
supposed to be heading into third year when September
rolled around, but the marks she’d gotten on her Term 2
assessments had other ideas.
She was failing.
“How can you not have passed?” Her best friend and
roommate, Fran, had been the one there to console her
when it had all fallen apart, after the results had come
through and she’d found out that she wasn’t going into third
year.
“I don’t know,” Dina had replied through sniffs, the
tears dragging her mascara down her face. “I worked so
hard, I stayed up so late, I did everything I thought I
needed to do and it wasn’t enough.”
She was a good student, she knew she was, and she
always did her best. First year and the first term of second
year had been fine, but something had changed during
second term, like the difficulty level had suddenly got
harder or like she couldn’t juggle her personal life and her
school life anymore. She couldn’t keep up, no matter how
hard she tried.
What followed were several difficult meetings with
tutors and professors, as she bumbled her way through the
appeals process until she managed to find a way to retake
the second term. The only problem was, she would have to
do it over the summer.
So once she had moved into their new student house
not too far from the Penrhyn Road campus, she got straight
back to work. While her friends went home and stayed with
family for various stretches of time, or went off on all-
inclusive beach resort holidays, sending her drunken videos
and photos of them catching a tan by the pool, Dina Lister
was in the library desperately trying to cram the information
into her brain and save her academic life from falling apart.
It resulted in a lot more late nights, a heck of a lot of
debt, and Dina working harder than she ever had before.
Writing had always come naturally to Dina.
Storytelling was very much what she felt like she’d been put
on this earth to do. Studying it felt like a no-brainer. But the
academic side of things had been a bit of a shock to her
system. She didn’t feel as well-read as everybody else, nor
was her knowledge as broad. She spent more time doubting
herself, and it didn’t make her feel good.
This night had been like many others before it. She
had woken up, gone to the gym to try and get her brain in
gear, and then headed to the library so that the comings
and goings of her many housemates and their antics
wouldn’t distract her. That was the problem with resitting a
term. Everybody else was having the best summer of their
lives before the horrors of third year really kicked in, while
she was having to work straight through it all. How she was
going to keep going until next summer was beyond her.
Not a thought for now, she told herself when her mind
went there. Focus on getting this done or there won’t be a
third year.
 She had spent pretty much the entire day in the
library re-reading the things she had read previously, taking
up way more of her professor's office hours than she
should, and getting on first-name terms with the people
who worked in the cafeteria. She was there enough, might
as well make some friends.
This day felt successful. With only a few assignments
to go, Dina was on track to at least get everything
submitted on time. Whether or not she would pass was a
whole other question, but at least they would have all the
assignments.
She stepped out of the Penrhyn Road campus and let
out a heavy sigh. The noise of the road outside hit her like a
wave. The quiet corners she hid in at the library always
meant that when she stepped back out into the real world,
everything felt more intense, like it had all been dialled up
to eleven. The lights seemed brighter, the cars whizzing by
seemed louder, even the late summer heat seemed more
oppressive.
She shook it off, popping on her headphones and
starting away from the campus. When she’d spent so much
time inside, so much time being entirely silent, it was
difficult to get herself back into the real world. She almost
felt like she wasn’t really there, like she was walking
through a simulation.
There were shadows moving in her periphery, people
in the distance that seemed to be there one minute and
gone the next. It sent a creeping feeling of unease up and
down her back, the kind of feeling that only really affected
her when the nights crept in.
She stopped.
She pulled her headphones off her ears.
She turned around.
Nothing.
It was a busy street. Cars drove by at great speed,
and street lamps threw white light down on her from
several different angles, causing a sporadic star of shadows
to fan out beneath her.
You’re imagining things again, she thought. The again
was because of that overactive writer brain. The one that
didn’t just see something in their periphery, the one that
created a story around it, managing to construct an entire
narrative that only really succeeded in scaring the pants off
her.
Dina started to walk again, headphones back on,
turning her music low, wanting to hear if anyone was
coming up behind her, if anyone was calling out to her.
Shadows flickered again.
She stopped.
She turned.
Still nothing.
You’re losing it, she thought.
She turned on to her little side road. She could see
her house in the distance. There was a big yellow street
lamp outside it, one of the ones they’d not yet replaced with
the more energy-efficient, stark white ones. The lights were
on in the living room, though the curtains were drawn.
Dina couldn’t help but smile at the thought that there
would be voices in the house when she got there, the
sounds of her friends, the people who would pull her out of
her study mindset and let her relax for a few hours before
she repeated it all over again.
But Dina didn’t see the shadow this time.
She was so focussed on what was ahead of her, so
engrossed by the thought of being back in that living room
that she missed the figure crossing the road behind her,
missed them falling into step with her.
But she didn’t miss the heavy hand landing on her
shoulder and pulling her round to face them. That, she
didn’t miss. And that, she would never forget.
 CHAPTER TWO

“You absolutely can’t!” Detective Sergeant Zoe

Sanchez watched her colleague DC Owen Campbell with
careful eyes. Slowly, she took a sip of her drink, not taking
her eyes off him for a second. Colleague wasn’t really the
right word for it anymore. Boyfriend felt too official and also
a little bit young, partner felt too formal and much too
serious. What was the word for someone who lasted past
the third date? At what point did they need to start thinking
of this seriously?
“I reckon I can, you know,” Owen replied, a playful
smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He’d done his
hair for the occasion, his sandy blond locks slicked over to
one side. And he looked like he’d been spending a bit too
much time on the sunbeds, giving him a bronzed quality. He
was, Zoe supposed, quite handsome. Once you got past the
attitude, he was also quite sweet. Sometimes.
“You reckon?”
“I’ve got it down, trust me,” he said.
It was the fourth date, and with someone like Owen,
she was definitely waiting for him to suddenly want to call it
off and be ‘just friends.’ That had happened to Zoe one too
many times. At least enough times that she’d been
expecting him to cancel on her when he’d found an excuse
to come over to her desk after their boss, Detective
Inspector Benjamin Kidd, had left the room earlier.

“We still on for tonight?” he’d asked, keeping his voice

low. DC Ravel had still been in the room, as had DC Powell.
They’d not told anyone in the station yet, mostly because
Zoe didn’t want to have to un-tell them when it didn’t work
out. Some would call it cautious, she would call it realistic.
“Why, you got a better offer?” she’d countered, not
looking up from her computer screen.
If I’m going down, I’m not going to let him know I’m
upset, she’d thought. Because I’m not upset. It’s Owen
Campbell. I’m not upset.
“No, of course not,” he’d replied, seemingly taken
aback. He’d looked at her confused for a moment, a puppy
who had just been told that no, they weren’t about to go for
a walk. He’d tilted his head to one side before righting
himself. “Just wanted to make sure you were still up for it
given… you know… everything that’s happening with the
case, that’s all. Meet you at The Ram.”
“Alright then,” she’d said, waiting until he’d turned
around before watching him walk back to his desk. She’d
been waiting for the punchline that Campbell always
seemed to throw, waiting for the moment that he would
make this all a joke and break her heart just as she was
opening it up to somebody new.
But it wasn’t coming. He was still there and, despite
him being Owen bloody Campbell, still being as charming as
any guy she had ever dated before.
Kidd would never let her live this down.

“I absolutely can!” Owen insisted, putting his drink

down and steadying himself.
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“Come on,” he groaned. “If anyone can tell me if my
impression of DI Kidd is up to snuff, it’s going to be you. It’s
going to be my party trick.”
“You get invited to parties?”
“Maybe I will after I show off my impression.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
“Come on, Zo,” he groaned again. “You know him
better than any of us.”
 “A blessing and a curse.”
“I’d say curse,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.
Zoe knew that he didn’t mean that. One of the many things
they’d spoken about on the three previous dates had been
how much of a dickhead Owen was at the station, and how
it was all a product of him being nervous around Kidd.
Apparently, he respected his boss quite a lot, and wanted to
be just like him one day. Zoe knew enough about Kidd to
tell Owen that he wasn’t always the best role model to hang
your hat on.
Zoe took a heavy breath. She’d love to still be
exasperated by him, but him acting like a twat had become
annoyingly endearing.
“Go on then,” she said. “Show me what you’ve got.”
He took another quick glug of his pint before
preparing himself. He was overdoing it for sure, deep
breaths, centring himself. Zoe was doing her best not to
burst out laughing.
You’re really dating this man-child? she thought.
You’ve chosen to go on four dates with him. Are you sure?
Not that she’d admit it to Owen yet, because she was
still afraid he would do a runner, but she had never been
more sure of anything in her life.
“Shut the fuck up, Campbell! Rah rah rah rah, stamp
stamp stamp, slam door, tell Weaver to do one. Campbell,
where the fuck did you get those croissants?” Owen finished
off his presentation with some feeble jazz hands, holding in
his own laughter.
Zoe tried not to smile. She desperately tried not to
encourage him. But it was pretty good as far as impressions
went. Or maybe she was just really bloody smitten.
“You do always seem to have croissants,” she said.
“I’ve noticed that.”
“Oh, you’ve noticed me, have you?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she replied. “I’ve noticed the
trail of crumbs that you leave from your desk to the door,
like you’re worried about finding your way back.”
“Like Hansel and Gretel?”
“Sure, Owen, like Hansel and Gretel,” she continued.
“Why croissants? Why always the croissants?”
“Life’s too short to not have croissants.” He said it like
it was the simplest thing in the world. The small pleasures
in life all encapsulated in a single sentence. And they
stopped in that moment and just looked across the table at
one another. He was right about one thing. Life was
definitely too short.
“Owen,” Zoe said. But he wasn’t looking at her
anymore. He was staring right through her, like she wasn’t
even there. “Owen?”

That was always how it finished. She remembered the

actual end to the date, of course she did, she remembered
the kissing, remembered going back to her place,
remembered it all so vividly, but it always seemed to end
here.
“Owen, please,” Zoe said softly, her voice cracking a
little.
His eyes found her, a soft smile drifting across her
face.
“Zoe.”
And she woke with a start.

She sat bolt-upright in bed as a car whizzed past

outside like it was driving around Silverstone, not the
backstreets of Kingston. She tried to get her breath back,
staring around in the dark.
It was at times like this that Zoe was glad that she
lived alone. It was a decision that she’d made after her
thirtieth birthday three years ago. She was sick of
housemates, sick of having to pick up other people’s stuff,
sick of having to deal with other people’s noise. She dealt
with that enough at work.
 So she’d got her own little flat just outside of
Kingston, a tiny flat that she could just about afford the
mortgage on by herself, and she had never looked back.
Sure there was still noise to deal with from her neighbours,
but it was within walking distance to work if she wanted to
walk, and she had her car if she was running late and just
wanted to be there in two minutes flat.
The noises outside were a problem. She was a little
way off a main road coming out of Kingston, and the boy
racers of the town always thought it was an absolutely
fantastic idea to floor it along there. It didn’t usually wake
her up. She was fairly sure it hadn’t woken her up this time,
either. It was just a nasty coincidence.
The dream always ended there. That last little
moment together. So sweet, so fleeting. He always made
her laugh. Or he used to, at least. Now he just seemed to
make her cry.
She dabbed at her face, surprised to find that there
were no tears there. She wondered for a moment if she had
run out. Was it possible to run out of tears for somebody?
Zoe wasn’t so sure. They would come again. Maybe next
time.
Everything in Zoe’s life seemed to be strained at the
moment. Like she was being pulled in several directions,
none of which she could truly give her full attention.
There was work, which had been particularly quiet for
the past couple of weeks since Kidd had left. It’s not that
there hadn’t been cases, it’s that they’d been broken into
different teams to work on them. They had been torn apart
by DI Kidd’s departure and he likely had no idea.
Detective Inspector Benjamin Kidd had been Zoe’s
friend for more years than she cared to admit. They’d
worked together for pretty much all of them, and that had
only succeeded in bringing them closer. She loved working
with him. It was one of the best parts about the job, but
things had got pretty bad for him recently. The job had
started to weigh him down, so he had taken a leave of
absence. It was the second time in the space of a year he
had done that, and Zoe wasn’t sure he was going to come
back this time.
Zoe had sent messages here and there, mostly just
checking in to see if he was doing okay. The surprise was
that there had been responses this time. Last time he’d
taken a leave of absence, she’d not heard from him for six
solid months. Now, they’d probably had more contact via
text than they’d ever had before.
She’d told him about the dreams, and made sure to
avoid anything to do with work, even when he’d asked. He
was supposed to be taking time off, and even though he
complained she wasn’t talking about work, she knew that
deep down he appreciated it. And if he didn’t, John certainly
did.
It was strange to think that he hadn’t been with them
for two weeks.
And of course there was the actual loss DC Owen
Campbell, whose passing had hurt her in ways she couldn’t
even begin to explain. If someone had told her a couple of
years ago, she would be waking up at four am to cry over
Owen Campbell, she probably would have punched them.
But here she was. Well. Not crying this time, but she was
awake all the same.
They’d worked together for a number of years. He
was young—younger than her at least—and always a little
bit over-eager to the point of actually pissing her off. He’d
asked her out a few times, and she’d said no, not wanting
to blur the line between the professional and the personal,
but she’d grown to like him as time had passed and had
decided he was worth giving it a shot.
On their last case—the one that had tipped DI Kidd
into taking some time off—Owen and DC Simon Powell had
got into a pretty nasty scrape with a murderer, and Owen
hadn’t made it out alive. In a case that was already brutal
and had taken its toll on the team, Owen’s passing was too
much for a lot of them to bear. It had been the last thing
any of them had been expecting. When she was at work,
she still half-expected him to walk back through the
Incident Room doors at any moment with a packet of
croissants and some joke that nobody understood the
punchline to.
But he still hadn’t. It was a stupid thing to hope for.
No one at the station had known she was dating
Campbell, so it was a hard thing for her to talk about. But
Weaver seemed to clock how she was feeling pretty quickly
and had been keeping a closer eye on her. Probably because
of a combination of how she was reacting to things and him
not wanting to lose her at the same time as losing Kidd.
Now that really would be a disaster. He might actually have
to do some work then.
She’d spent some time with Campbell’s family,
checking in with them now and again to see how they were
coping. They weren’t doing too well, as one might expect,
but they seemed to appreciate the extra bit of care and
attention.
While it was true that no one at the station knew that
the two of them were going out, apparently he’d done
nothing but talk about her to his mum when he’d been at
home. So that was something at least. Campbell had
continued to be full of surprises, even after he’d died.
Zoe picked up her phone, unlocked it, and went into
her photos. She knew she shouldn’t be doing it but she just
couldn’t help herself.
There was Owen Campbell’s face grinning back at her.
They’d taken a couple of pictures on their third date. He’d
taken her for a picnic along the riverside, wanting to avoid
the pubs in Kingston because it was a Friday night and they
would either end up being seen by another officer while
they were out, or they’d end up having to deal with some
drunken wanker who was out to start a fight. The job never
really stopped.
They’d really got to talk on that date, and Campbell
had taken out his phone and started snapping pictures of
the two of them. Zoe had resisted at first, telling him he
was a dickhead, telling him that he’d better not post them
anywhere, and then insisting that he send them to her
when she realised they actually looked good together.
She looked down at the last picture and smiled, the
sunset behind them had caused a lens flare, their heads
were pressed close together, cheesing at the camera.
A tear dropped onto the phone.
So, there were still tears left for Owen Campbell, after
all. She imagined there always would be.
 CHAPTER THREE

Somehow, Zoe managed to get back to sleep for a

couple of hours, another speeding car waking her a little
before her alarm. Even if the dreams were persistently
waking her up in the middle of the night, at least now she
was managing to get back to sleep afterwards. Surely that
had to be considered progress.
She checked her phone as she did every morning,
surprised to see a message from Kidd waiting for her on her
lock screen. She opened it, seeing a picture of Kidd and
John, his partner, in the middle of a field somewhere.

KIDD: Not a bad view, eh?

ZOE: Would look a lot better if a couple of twats
weren’t blocking it.

It really was a spectacular view. It was nice to see

that he was having a good time.
She was about to put her phone back down when the
three dots appeared indicating that Kidd was typing. She
sat up in bed and waited for his response to come through.
The three dots flashed up again, then vanished, flashed up,
then vanished.
“Fuck’s sake,” she groaned.

KIDD: You free for a chat?

ZOE: Sure thing.

Her phone rang almost immediately, and she grabbed

it.
 “Morning stranger,” she said, getting out of bed and
starting to pace. Zoe couldn’t sit still when she was on the
phone, a bad habit, one she was fairly sure she could
attribute to Kidd. The man didn’t stand still. “I’ve not heard
your voice in… When did you vanish?”
“I’ve not vanished,” Kidd snipped. “I’m taking an
extended leave of absence.”
“Fancy way of saying vanished.”
“Touché.”
“But I’ll do it your way,” she said. “I’ve not heard your
voice since you took an extended leave of absence. To what
do I owe the pleasure?”
Kidd sighed. “I’m in a forest in the middle of the Lake
District and I wanted to talk to you. Is that a crime?”
“You’re probably disturbing everyone else trying to
enjoy the Lake District, but I’m not about to report you,”
she said. “Thought you were with John?”
“He’s popped into a café to grab breakfast,” Kidd said.
“We took a very long walk and someone forgot to pack the
snacks.”
“Was that someone you?”
“No comment.”
“Don’t you ‘no comment’ me, Ben. You leave us for a
couple of weeks and you turn into one of them!” she
replied.
“How are you?” he asked.
It was a very loaded question these days, but sadly
not one she could ignore, certainly not with Kidd. Even on
the phone, his detective skills still seemed to kick in and
he’d have her all figured out before she could say, “I’m
fine.”
“Oh, you know,” she said. “Doing my best.”
“Wow,” Kidd said. “Could you be more vague?”
“I could certainly try,” she replied. “I’m still having the
dreams. But I’m sleeping better.”
“And work is?”
 “Work.”
“Zoe—”
“Ben, I’m not supposed to be talking to you about
work,” she said. “Is that why you called me? Are you
missing making terrible decisions and putting yourself in
danger that much? Is that why you waited until John was
out of earshot?”
“He’s getting breakfast.”
“Out of earshot,” she repeated. “You’re relentless.”
“I just want to know that the station hasn’t burned
down without me,” he said.
Zoe hesitated. A little information wouldn’t hurt. “It’s
been fine,” she said. “We’ve not really worked together a
whole lot since you left.”
“What do you mean?” Kidd asked.
“Two people are hardly a team,” Zoe replied. “Janya
has been off helping other teams. I’ve been filling in where
I can. It’s been fine. Simon still isn’t back.”
“Is he okay?”
“I’ve not heard from him,” she said. “I keep asking
the skipper, but he’s not being very forthcoming.”
“Not Weaver, surely,” Kidd said. She could practically
hear his eyes rolling down the phone. “But you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied. As fine as she could be,
anyway. Things had changed, and they’d got her thinking
about things. And thinking about things was dangerous.
Weaver had seemed to know that, like he was making
sure she wasn’t about to up and leave. Which she wasn’t, to
be fair. But she was wondering if it was time for her to
move on. She’d be lying if she said that it hadn’t crossed
her mind.
“How are you getting on?” she asked.
“I’m having the time of my life,” he replied. “I’ve
actually managed to switch off, which I know doesn’t sound
like me, but I’ve succeeded. I think John’s thrilled.”
“Apart from you asking me about work.”
 “Which we’re not going to share with John,” Kidd
replied with a laugh. “But we’re spending time together and
just forgetting about the world. He has to work every now
and again, but that just means I end up reading.”
“You’re reading?”
“Please don’t sound surprised,” he replied. “You’re
making it sound like I don’t know how to relax.”
“You don’t.”
“I know,” he said with another laugh. “But look at me,
I’m doing it!”
He really did sound a heck of a lot brighter than he
had in the past few months. Maybe something really had
shifted in him. It was one thing to read in a message that
someone was doing well and having a good time, to see
pictures of them smiling, but there could be so much hidden
behind a smile. To actually hear it in their voice was a
different story. He sounded brighter. He sounded, at least to
Zoe, like he wasn’t going to come back. And that hit her
pretty hard.
They’d worked together for such a long time. He was
the reason she was still in Kingston, still part of the team,
so to have him not be there anymore… it brought a lot of
things into question. A lot of things.
“Have I lost you?” Kidd asked.
“No, sorry.”
“Thought the line had gone dead.” Kidd laughed
again. “You okay? You sound thoughtful.”
“Fine,” she replied. “There’s just been an awful lot of
thinking happening recently. Nothing to worry about.”
Working with Kidd was equal parts pleasure and pain.
He could often be erratic and impulsive, and it was never
easy, but he got the job done. She enjoyed it. He kept her
on her toes. But now he wasn’t around… and she was
wondering what she was doing.
The dream for her was, of course, to continue
progressing up the ranks, to be in the position that Kidd
was in. Detective Inspector Zoe Sanchez had a nice ring to
it. But with Kidd around, with her enjoying her work, it just
wasn’t something that had crossed her mind in a big way.
Now, she found herself thinking about it more and more.
What if she wasn’t still in Kingston when he came back?
If he comes back, she thought.
“So, you’re still enjoying your time off?” she said. “I
feel like we’ll blink and you’ll have taken early retirement in
some beach town in Spain or something.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied. “I hate beaches, and
I hate the heat. It will probably be in Iceland or something.”
“Okay, fine,” she replied. Even though Zoe knew he
was joking, it still hit her a little harder than she would like
to admit. It really didn’t sound like he was coming back.
She wanted to tell him she missed him, that it wasn’t
the same without him, but what would be the point? She
didn’t want to make him feel like he needed to come back;
she didn’t want to make him feel like she was struggling
without him, even if she was a little. She just missed her
friend.
“Ooh, here comes John with breakfast,” Kidd said. “I
should probably go before you get me in trouble.”
“I will not take the fall for this one, Kidd,” she said,
echoing his laugh. “You called me.”
“That’s not what John’s about to hear,” Kidd replied.
“You’re terrible.”
“It’s why we’re friends,” he replied.
The line went quiet again, neither one of them sure
how to end the phone call.
“You sure you’re okay, Zoe?” Kidd asked, throwing a
lifeline out into the dark.
She took a moment, considering answering truthfully.
It might be wise. But she didn’t want to worry him.
“Perfect,” she said. “And you?”
“Yeah, perfect about covers it,” he replied. “Speak
soon.”
 “Bye.”
The phone line went dead and Zoe found herself in
the quietness of her flat once more. Another car flew by
outside, loud, obnoxious, and reminding her that she was
here and Kidd was far away.
She didn’t know when she was going to hear from him
again, when her friend would next be in touch. He was
having the time of his life. She could hear it in his voice.
And what was she doing? Just carrying on with her day-to-
day life like nothing had happened.
People kept on leaving, kept on moving, and Zoe
stayed in the same place. She didn’t know how much longer
she could stand that.
 CHAPTER FOUR

Zoe got herself ready for work double-quick, the

phone call with Kidd having derailed her usual morning
routine somewhat. She showered, got dressed in a
comfortable pair of smart trousers and a shirt, made a flask
of coffee, grabbed her lunch from the fridge, and started on
her way to the station.
She wasn’t normally the kind to walk to work, but she
had taken it up on Kidd’s recommendation after everything
that had happened with Campbell. The idea was, it would
get her out of her own head a little bit, that it would help
clear her mind. All it really told her was that she didn’t like
walking, cars were much quicker, and people didn’t walk
fast enough through the high street.
But she kept doing it. Because she imagined one day
it might start to help.
And then I can go to work on my flying pig, she
thought.
She took Kidd’s recommended route down by
Kingston Riverside. The morning was already pretty warm,
a heatwave having recently broken, meaning that at least
she hadn’t sweated through her shirt the second she
stepped out of the door. Small mercies.
The riverside already had people on it, sitting on
terraces and in front of cafés, eating breakfast and drinking
tall, overpriced cups of coffee. Zoe envied them. Her
mornings were never slow. Even on her days off, the time
seemed to run away from her.
When the station came into view, she felt an all too
familiar sinking feeling in her stomach. It was a fairly recent
thing for her. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy her job
anymore, that wasn’t it at all, it was just that it reminded
her of all that she’d lost recently.
She’d heard some of her old school friends talking
about the ‘Sunday Scaries’ on Facebook, talking about not
wanting to go to work on Monday. It had never affected
Zoe. It didn’t seem normal to her. But here she was feeling
them. And it was enough to make her want to turn around
and walk back in the other direction.
She was a split second away from making such a
decision when she saw a face she knew well standing
outside the front of the station. A tall man with a shock of
orange hair and a disgruntled look on his face. Well, if you
didn’t already know Detective Chief Inspector Patrick
Weaver, you would call it disgruntled, but this was just his
permanent expression. It was said that something had
bothered him some twenty years ago, and his face had
stayed the same ever since. Kidd had said that. She wasn’t
sure how true it was.
He had been leaning against the railing outside the
front of the station, squinting into the sun as it peeked
through the buildings, but he straightened up as he caught
sight of Zoe making her way across the road. His jacket
strained against the size of his shoulders, the buttons of his
sky-blue shirt screaming as he claimed his full height.
“Morning, boss,” she said as she reached him,
ignoring the anxiety bubbling away in her chest. “To what
do I owe the pleasure?” Kidd had told Zoe many times
about Weaver’s habit of meeting him outside the station
when he had something important to say, and it was never
good.
There was a moment where Weaver seemed to
hesitate, opening and closing his mouth like a fish as he
tried to figure out what to say. Zoe eyed him curiously. He
wasn’t usually the kind to be nervous around her. In fact, he
was one of the few bosses she’d had during her time in The
Met that hadn’t seemed affronted by her somewhat direct
way of working. That direct way of working had become
even more pronounced since being around Kidd. He had a
no-bullshit attitude, and it had rubbed off on her.
“Spit it out, boss. I don’t have all morning,” she said,
raising an eyebrow at him. It seemed to calm him down
somewhat. He laughed at least, the tension in his shoulders
easing.
What’s rattled his cage? she thought.
“There were a few things I wanted to talk to you
about,” he said. His usual Scottish accent, which sounded
more like a rumble of thunder than anything else, was a
little softer this morning. He’d been going soft on her since
everything that happened with Owen, that much she knew.
The entire team seemed to be balanced on a knife’s edge,
Weaver included. The last thing he wanted to do was push
anybody too hard. “And I thought it might be easier to
catch you on your way into the office rather than inside.”
“Didn’t want to pull me out of the Incident Room in
front of everybody and make a scene?” she suggested.
“How unlike you.”
“You know me,” he deadpanned. “I live for the
drama.”
“What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked.
“I feel like I’ve not had a chance to check in with you
recently,” he started. “How have you been coping with
everything?”
The question was so broad that Zoe had to give it a
minute to land inside her head. Where did he want her to
start? She had no real direction at work anymore now that
Kidd was gone, the team that she had been comfortably
working with for almost a year had been torn apart, and the
man that she’d been seeing had been brutally murdered on
their last major case and she’d been there when his body
was removed from the property. The short answer would be
that she wasn’t coping. But she knew from experience that
the honest answer was the kind of answer that would get
her signed off with stress, and if she didn’t have work to
focus on, Zoe knew she would drive herself insane.
“I’m going to need you to be more specific,” she said
carefully.
“With Campbell,” Weaver replied. “It’s never easy
when you lose a member of your team, even more when it
is done in such a brutal fashion. Have you spoken to
anyone?”
Apart from speaking to Kidd when she could, she’d
spoken to the therapist that the Met had told her to go and
see, but they’d been no help. They hadn’t wanted to talk
about Campbell, they’d wanted to talk about her entire life.
And that was a box Zoe wasn’t ready to open.
“I’ve been trying,” she said. “Not a lot of people really
understand.”
“Well, I understand,” he replied. “You can always talk
to me.”
He wasn’t the easiest man to talk to. DCI Weaver was
fairly unemotional and would much rather bottle things up
than actually talk about them. He had a guard up, a wall
that was impenetrable to anyone who wasn’t in his closest
circle. Apparently, he’d had a pretty decent relationship with
Kidd by the end of it all, hence Kidd being given time off to
figure out what he wanted to do with his life.
“Thank you, sir,” Zoe replied. “I’ll… I’ll be sure to keep
that in mind. Anything else?”
“Work treating you well?” he asked.
“What do you think?” she replied.
“I think you could do with a new challenge,” he
replied. “The team has been… well… it hasn’t been…” He
sighed and started over. “Let’s be entirely honest here. With
Kidd gone, Campbell no longer with us, and Powell still in
recovery, there hasn’t really been a team to speak of.”
“Very true,” Zoe replied. “I miss it. I don’t suppose
Kidd has mentioned coming back?”
 “Not a word,” he replied. “We’ve spoken occasionally,
but only occasionally. But you know Kidd, he just needs
time. He’ll be back. He’s never been able to resist this job.”
Zoe knew that to be true. But she also knew how
happy Kidd had sounded when she’d spoken to him that
morning, how free he seemed to be, untethered to any of
this.
She knew he was probably better off without them.
The job caused so much stress to anybody in it, it’s a
wonder anybody made it to retirement.
“I hope you’re right, boss,” she said. “Can’t be left up
to me to keep you on your toes. What were you saying
about the team?”
“I think it’s about time we got things back on track,”
he said. “Gave you and DC Ravel a little more stability. And
while we’re at it, give Kidd something to come back to.”
“Of course.” Zoe could feel where this was going, and
there was a thrill in her chest at the very thought of it.
They’d not spoken about promotion opportunities for her,
not since she became a Detective Sergeant. But now with
Kidd on leave, maybe it was time for her to step into the DI
role, take on more responsibilities. She’d more than proven
she was capable when she’d taken the lead on cases in the
past. This would just be making it a little more official,
giving her something to work towards, letting her act in that
role.
Weaver’s face rearranged itself into something that
almost resembled a smile. “I’m glad to hear you’re so
enthusiastic,” he said. “I want you to come inside so you
can meet your new DI.”
Zoe’s heart sank.
 CHAPTER FIVE

Zoe didn’t let it show on her face as Weaver

practically threw her dreams under the passing 281 bus. It
wasn’t what she was hoping to hear but, in a way, it made a
lot more sense than the fantasy she’d made up.
She knew she’d been a DS long enough, but there
was a process to go through, there were applications, there
were tests. She didn’t think for a second that Weaver was
going to bypass all of that, but it would have been nice for
that to have been an option.
“Morning, Diane,” Zoe said brightly to the station
officer sitting behind the front desk.
Diane looked up and smiled at Zoe. “Morning, Zoe!”
Every crinkle of her face was emphasised by her
enthusiasm.
Diane had been a staple here for longer than Zoe
could remember. She knew everything that happened at the
station, absolutely nothing got past her. Though, to an
outside eye she was “only” or “just” a station officer,
without her, Zoe was certain the entire place would fall
apart.
Weaver led her through the familiar corridors, past
faces she walked by every morning, some of whom she
exchanged a cursory nod with, some of them giving her a
tense look as they saw her walking with Weaver. No matter
what age you were, being taken down a corridor by one of
your superiors was never a good look and almost always
meant trouble.
He took her into his office, where she was met with a
face that she didn’t recognise. He was tall and slender with
lightly tanned skin and jet black curly hair that looked like it
had far too much hair product in it, almost to the point
where it looked wet.
The stranger turned his gaze to her, a pair of dark
brown eyes narrowing as he looked her up and down. The
corners of his mouth turned upwards a little, the ghost of a
smile dancing on his lips. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. First
impressions were key, and Zoe was getting the distinct
impression that whoever this man was, he had already
decided not to like her.
Great, she thought. This is exactly what I need.
“Detective Sergeant Zoe Sanchez,” Weaver said, his
voice a little brighter, suddenly going into hosting mode.
“I’m very pleased to introduce you to Detective Inspector
Vince McMichaels. He’s transferred over here from Surrey
Police.”
“Lovely to meet you, sir,” Zoe said, reaching out a
hand for him to shake. McMichaels gave it a moment,
looking at her hand and then back up into Zoe’s face before
giving her a firm handshake.
“Good to meet you too,” he replied. “I’m really looking
forward to getting to work.” While Weaver’s voice was a
rumble of thunder, McMichaels’ was more like a soft breeze.
She couldn’t imagine him angry, couldn’t imagine him
anything other than docile in that moment. It didn’t seem
like it was in his nature.
“Zoe is one of our best detectives,” Weaver said. “She
has been working under Detective Inspector Benjamin Kidd
for a number of years, as well as taking on cases of her
own. She was SIO on a case a few months ago when DI
Kidd was indisposed. You’ll be in good hands with her, I’m
sure.”
“I look forward to it,” McMichaels replied, the corners
of his mouth turning up once more. Zoe couldn’t get a read
on him. She prided herself on being able to get a decent
impression of people upon first meeting them, even if she
ended up being wrong, but with DI McMichaels, she couldn’t
figure him out. There was something about how he carried
himself. Something closed off, like whatever cards he had
he was playing them close to his chest.
And there was something in that voice, something in
the calm, measuredness of it that was off-putting. She just
couldn’t place it.
She could practically hear Kidd’s voice in her head
telling her that there was more to this man than met the
eye, that there was something he was hiding. But that was
so often just Kidd’s way. He would never take anything at
face value. While everyone was innocent until proven guilty
with Kidd, he still didn’t trust anybody outright. And he’d
been betrayed enough times for that to be an entirely valid
concern.
“What made you want to make a change from Surrey
Police?” Zoe asked. “This is quite a shift.”
DI McMichaels blinked, like he had been caught off
guard by the question. It took him a moment to gather his
thoughts before he responded. “I’ve been there for about
fifteen years, and I thought it was time for a change,” he
said. “When I heard about the position over here, I figured
this was close enough to give me a bit of a new challenge
without having to pick up my entire life and move into the
big smoke, you know?”
Fifteen years, Zoe thought. The years had barely
touched him. She’d half expected him to be some upstart
graduate on some new programme fast-tracking them to
DI. But he was likely the same age or older than she was.
The next thing that stalled her was ‘the position.’ So
they’d advertised for a new DI. She hadn’t even noticed.
Zoe looked at Weaver and then back at McMichaels. Were
they trying to replace Kidd? Was there even going to be a
job for him here when he got back?
“Well, you’ll certainly have your hands full over here,”
Zoe replied. “Never a dull moment.”
 McMichaels nodded. She waited for him to say
something in response, to carry on the conversation, but
nothing. He just stopped talking and turned his attention
back to DCI Weaver.
Well, I guess that’s that then, she thought.
Maybe he didn’t like her. That was always a possibility.
Maybe it was nerves. It was his first day in a new job after
all. Zoe was pretty sure that when she’d first started
working in Kingston, she was probably exactly like this.
Certainly not the person that she was today. For the first
time, Zoe decided to ignore that little voice in the back of
her head—that Kidd had put there—telling her that there
was something off about DI McMichaels. She would give him
the benefit of the doubt. At least for now.
“No rest for the wicked,” Weaver said, a dark look on
his face. “And I’m sorry that the two of you don’t get to
spend a little more time getting to know one another before
I set you working, but,” —he put a case file on the desk in
front of him— “we’ve got some work to do.”
 CHAPTER SIX

Weaver handed the case file to DI McMichaels who

immediately opened it and started flicking through it,
nodding.
“I’ve already discussed the particulars of the case
with Vince,” Weaver said. “I wanted to make sure he was up
to speed before I introduced the two of you and set you up
for the day.”
“Alright,” Zoe said, turning to DI McMichaels and
waiting for him to relay that information to her. He was still
flicking through the case file. Zoe could feel herself getting
annoyed. “What’s the case?” she added after a few
moments of silence.
McMichaels cleared his throat, closing the case file
and tucking it under his arm. “We have a missing person on
the borough,” he started. “Dina Lister, twenty years old,
female. She was last seen walking out of Kingston
University in the early hours of Tuesday morning, a little
past midnight, by a security guard, presumably heading
home for the evening. But she never made it.”
“Any more details than that?”
“She walked out the front doors of the University, put
on her headphones and turned right, towards her home.
She’s quite close to the campus.”
“Okay,” Zoe said. “Who called it in?”
“It was called in by her housemates yesterday
afternoon when she didn’t answer her phone on Wednesday
morning.”
“Wednesday?” Zoe said. “What made them wait so
long?”
 “Well, that seems to be what we need to find out,” DI
McMichaels said flatly. “We’ve got a couple of leads already
that we can follow up on. Get some CCTV from the
university, talk to any teachers that may have been the last
to see her, then we’ll talk to her friends and figure out
exactly what went on there.”
“You think they might have been keeping it from the
police on purpose?” Zoe asked.
“I think it’s a distinct possibility,” McMichaels said. “It
certainly won’t serve us particularly well to rule anything
out at this stage, will it?”
“I would say not,” Weaver interjected. “She’s been
missing just over twenty-four hours, and we’ve barely had a
chance to get started because they waited so long to call it
in. We’ve got officers looking for her, door knocking and the
like, but we’ve not come up with anything yet. Can I trust
the two of you to get to work on it?”
Zoe looked to DI McMichaels for confirmation, only to
find that he was already looking directly at her, that same
half smile on his face. Was it excitement glinting in his
eyes? Or wishful thinking on Zoe’s part? She couldn’t be
sure.
“I certainly think so,” he said.
Weaver got to his feet and led the two of them out of
his office and down the corridor towards the Incident Room.
It was the same one that Zoe had worked in for as long as
she could remember, though usually with a very different
combination of people.
There hadn’t been an interim DI when Kidd had left
last time. Weaver had taken it upon himself to step in and
pick up the slack, so at least they’d known who they were
dealing with. It gave DCs Simon Powell and Janya Ravel a
good grounding, it meant that Campbell was the quietest he
had ever been because he was scared shitless of Weaver.
This was different, this was going to be a new dynamic that
all of them were going to have to get used to.
 But not everybody is going to be here, she thought.
This time, they would be without Owen Campbell. This time
they would be without DC Simon Powell, who was still not
back at work after everything that had happened. He’d seen
Campbell die, after all. There was no way he was in any fit
state to be coming back to work, not now. Zoe was barely
fit to and yet…
DC Ravel would be fine. She had her head screwed on
right and managed to strike a perfect balance between work
life and home life. Zoe was proud of the officer Janya had
become during her time on the team.
Walking into the Incident Room, knowing she was on
another case, had nervous energy rushing though her body.
Even though it had only been a few weeks, it felt like it had
been a lifetime. Weaver pushed down the handle on the
door and stepped inside ahead of her and the new DI.
DC Janya Ravel was sitting at her usual desk, her
black hair tied up into a severe bun, her makeup subtle,
pristine. She looked up, a smile crossing her face when her
eyes met Zoe’s.
Zoe smiled back. While she may have been her
colleague, Janya was also her closest friend after Kidd.
“I’m looking forward to getting to work,” DI
McMichaels said quietly to Zoe. She turned to him, a little
surprised that he was speaking to her. A whole lot of
nothing and now this. She wasn’t about to complain that he
was talking to her, but still.
“Me too,” she said. “And anything I can do to help,
just let me know. I know that you’re new and that can be a
little daunting, but I know my way around this place. If you
need a hand—”
“Thank you,” he blurted. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, but
thank you.”
“DI McMichaels, DS Sanchez,” Weaver’s voice pulled
Zoe’s attention away from the DI and back to the centre of
the room. He was standing next to another unfamiliar face.
“Let me introduce you to your new DC. This is Detective
Constable Samuel Jones.”
And even though he hadn’t said it, and Zoe was sure
that he never would, the first thought she had was that this
was Owen’s replacement. And she felt her heart shatter all
over again.
 CHAPTER SEVEN

Detective Constable Samuel Jones looked, to Zoe at

least, like he was barely out of school. That was likely
because most young people looked like they were barely
out of school to Zoe these days. The other reason being
that she hadn’t seen an officer with a baby face like his in
quite some time.
He wasn’t nearly as tall as DCI Weaver, which wasn’t
much of a comparison, considering that the gaffer was a
literal giant. But he really made this recruit look like he’d
shrunk in the wash.
The new DC stared at DS Sanchez and DI McMichaels
like a rabbit caught in headlights, his blue eyes wide and
terrified, his skin looking pasty like he might be about to
pass out. He was dressed in a suit that looked like it might
have been a size or two too big for him, like his mum had
bought it for him and he would “grow into it one day.”
Zoe fixed a smile on her face. “Lovely to meet you,
DC Jones,” she said, trying to be as friendly as possible.
They were all new once, everybody had a first day, and it
was no use in making his first day any more difficult than it
likely already was. He really did look terrified. They hadn’t
even mentioned the case yet. Did he wander in here by
accident?
Weaver practically pushed him towards Zoe’s
outstretched hand. He shook it half-heartedly, which was
never a good sign as far as Zoe was concerned.
“Erm… nice to… nice to meet you,” he bumbled. It
sounded like he was deliberately deepening his voice, or
trying to keep any nervous squeaks out of it. “Sorry if my
hand is a bit sweaty… just nervous… you know… first day
and all that. But… yeah… lovely to meet you.”
He was more like the still absent DC Powell than he
was the late DC Campbell, that nervousness that always
seemed to radiate from Simon ever present in this one. He
was certainly no replacement for Owen Campbell. For one
thing, he hadn’t sprayed croissant crumbs all over her while
he’d been talking. For another, he was yet to make an
obnoxious joke.
There’s still time, she thought. She knew what these
young male recruits could be like sometimes.
“Pleasure to meet you, lad,” DI McMichaels said,
stepping forward and giving DC Jones a strong handshake.
The only reason Zoe knew it was strong was because she
saw Jones wince as McMichaels took his hand. That was one
way to show him how to give a proper handshake.
DI McMichaels turned his attention to Weaver. “Shall
we get started, boss? I’ve got a case file in my hand and
I’m itching to get cracking.”
That brought a smile onto Weaver’s weathered face.
That was one thing about the new blood, at least they were
keen. The new DI was clearly looking to impress, which
Weaver certainly wouldn’t mind.
Zoe made her way over to her desk, hanging her suit
jacket on the back of the chair before turning her attention
back to the new DI. He had followed her, immediately
putting his things down at DI Kidd’s desk. She tried not to
wince at him adjusting the chair, booting up the computer,
moving some of Kidd’s things out of the way to make room
for his notebook and the new case file.
It’s temporary, she told herself. Kidd will be back soon
and everything will go back to normal.
But even Zoe knew that wasn’t true. Nothing would
be the same again, not after everything that had happened.
The normal that had existed before was long gone. It had
contained three people that were no longer here, one of
whom definitely wasn’t coming back.
DI McMichaels left Kidd’s desk and made his way
towards the empty evidence board, looming large at the
front of the room. He turned to them all, a stiff sort of smile
on his face. He was gripping the case file so tightly there
would be dents in it by the time he let go.
“Alright,” he said. “Weaver has already introduced me
to all of you and I promise I will endeavour to learn your
names quickly so we can focus on what is really important
here.” He held the case file aloft. “We have a missing person
on the borough, a young woman by the name of Dina
Lister.” He turned to the board and pinned a picture of her
to the top. She was young, black, and smiling in a picture
that looked like it might have been found on her Instagram
or something. McMichaels pointed at the photo. “She is a
student at Kingston University, and she has been missing
for over twenty-four hours. In order to make the best of
this, we are going to need to divide and conquer, splitting
off into teams, covering as much ground as we can.”
He opened the case file and took a quick flick through.
“I want to get out there and get started on interviews this
morning,” he said. “We’re waiting on the CCTV from the
university to get an idea of her last movements, though we
know that she was last seen leaving there in the early hours
of Tuesday morning. We already have uniformed officers
knocking at nearby houses to see if anyone has seen her,
but I want to talk to any of her professors who may have
seen her in the days leading up to her disappearance.” He
caught Zoe’s eye. “Sanchez, we’re going to go and look into
that.”
“Yes, sir,” Zoe said.
“DC Ravel, was it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you could grab DC Jones and make your way to
her property,” McMichaels said. “There is a lot up in the air
with all of this. I want to know who called it in. I want to
know why they waited so long. I want to know anything and
everything they can tell us about Dina Lister. Are we clear?”
“Crystal, boss,” Janya replied, making a quick few
notes in her notebook. He clearly knew what he wanted.
He’d had a bit of time to think about all of this. Maybe that
was why he’d been so quiet with Zoe. He wasn’t being
standoffish, he was formulating a plan of action. That’s how
she would take it, anyway.
“I want the house searched as well,” McMichaels said.
“At the very least, I want her bedroom searched to see if
there is anything to indicate a planned disappearance.”
“You think she might have gone off-grid on purpose?”
Zoe asked.
McMichaels shrugged. “I’m ruling nothing out. She
might be in some kind of danger, she might have needed to
vanish for other reasons, until we dig into it we just won’t
know,” he said. “Any of you think of anything that might
help, let me know. I want you to tell me any thoughts you
have, any insights. We’re a team, so let’s get together and
start acting like one. Hit the ground running.”
Weaver was looking at him with a glint of pride in his
eyes. Someone was certainly happy with their choice of
having DI McMichaels come over and cover for Kidd. Even
Zoe had to admit she was a bit impressed with how much of
a shift there was in the man she’d met just a few moments
ago. This was someone ready to get to work. This, she
could get on board with.
“Sanchez,” McMichaels said, pulling her focus away
from Weaver. “You going to be ready to go in five minutes?”
“Yes, boss,” she said. “More than ready.”
“Fantastic,” he replied, very nearly smiling at her.
“Sanchez, can I borrow you for a moment?” Weaver
asked, nodding towards the door. She grabbed her jacket
and followed him out into the corridor. He walked a little
way down the hall before stopping and turning to her.
Apparently, whatever he wanted to say, he wanted it to be
out of earshot of everybody in the Incident Room.
“Can you do me a favour?” he asked.
“What’s that, skipper?”
“I want you to keep an eye on McMichaels for me,” he
said. “He’s been a DI for a little while, but this is obviously a
different kettle of fish to what they deal with in Surrey.
Make sure he’s okay, make sure he’s handling everything
the right way.”
“Sure thing,” Zoe replied.
“And DC Jones,” Weaver continued. “He’s a little bit…
shakier than I would have liked. And with Powell still off,
he’s all we’ve got in terms of an extra pair of hands for the
team so, if you could keep an eye on him as well.”
“Should I add childminder to my list of duties, sir?”
“Sanchez—”
“It’s fine, boss. I’ll keep an eye on them both,” she
said. “Anything else?”
“That will be all,” he replied. “And you know, if you
need to talk about anything—”
“Your door is always open, sir, yes,” she interrupted.
“I think DI McMichaels is going to want to get out of here
soon, do you mind?”
“By all means,” he said, gesturing back towards the
door. “Best of luck.”
“Thanks, boss,” she replied, turning back towards the
Incident Room. She tried to push the feeling of bitterness
out of her head. She wasn’t allowed to take on the role
herself, but she was supposed to keep an eye on
McMichaels, as well as try to make sure that DC Jones
didn’t do anything stupid.
She reached the Incident Room door, her hand finding
the handle.
Deep breath, Zoe, she thought. Onwards.
 CHAPTER EIGHT

It was jarring to be the passenger in the car for a

change. Zoe had spent so much time being the one in the
driver's seat that DI McMichaels immediately jumping into
the front of the blue Focus that she favoured caught her off
guard.
This is going to take some getting used to, she
thought.
It also didn’t take all that long for Zoe to realise that,
for a young-looking man, DI Vince McMichaels drove like he
was about ninety. They trundled away from Kingston Police
Station and down towards Penrhyn Road. There was no
sense of urgency, no sense that there was someone
missing, they stayed steady at five mph below the speed
limit at all times.
This is really going to take some getting used to, she
thought.
He had also immediately switched the radio station to
Jazz FM, which Zoe wasn’t exactly averse to. She just
couldn’t remember the last time she’d started a case
without having DI Kidd’s voice in her ear talking about what
they were going to do, or how they were going to solve it.
The smooth tones of a saxophone playing Summertime by
George Gershwin didn’t exactly fill her with excitement.
They pulled up outside the Penrhyn Road campus of
Kingston University to find it was quieter than usual. Last
time Zoe had been here it was closer to the middle of term
and she was used to the hustle and bustle of students, the
constant flow of them either going in or out of the building,
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 Dimensions: length, 22 inches; breadth, 9 inches; diameter, 6 inches.

BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 50 PLATE 20

 CLIFF-DWELLERS CRADLE—REAR

BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 50 PLATE 21

CLIFF-DWELLERS CRADLE—SIDE
 The modern Hopi rectangular form of ceremonial room situated
underground seems in some instances to have derived certain
features from the circular subterranean kiva.
The chief kiva at Walpi, that used by the Snake fraternity, is
rectangular and subterranean, while that used by the Flute priests,
which is practically a ceremonial room, is a chamber entered by a
side doorway. It is suggested that the Snake kiva at Walpi was
derived from the circular subterranean kiva of Tokónabi, the former
home of the Snake clan in northern Arizona, and that the Flute
chamber was developed from the rectangular rooms in the same
ruins. The old question, so often considered by Southwestern
archeologists, whether the circular subterranean kiva was derived
from the rectangular or vice versa, seems to the writer to be
somewhat modified by the fact that ceremonial rooms of both forms
exist side by side in many ancient cliff-dwellings. From circular
subterranean kivas in some instances developed square kivas, but
the latter are sometimes the direct development of square rooms;
the determination of the original form can best result from a study of
clans and their migrations.[55]
Naturally the questions one asks in regard to these ruins are: Why
did the inhabitants build in these cliffs? Who were the ancient
inhabitants? When were these dwellings inhabited and deserted?
It is commonly believed that the caves were chosen for habitations
because they could be better defended than villages in the open.
This is a good answer to the first question, so far as it goes, although
somewhat imperfect. The ancients chose this region for their homes
on account of the constant water supply in the creek and the patches
of land in the valley that could be cultivated. This was a desirable
place for their farms. Had there been no caves in the cliffs they
would probably have built habitations in the open plain below. They
may have been harassed by marauders, but it must be borne in mind
that their enemies did not come in great numbers at any one time.
Defense was not the primary motive that led the sedentary people of
this canyon to utilize the caverns for shelter. Again, the inroads of
enemies never led to the abandonment of these great cliff-houses, if
we can impute valor in any appreciable degree to the inhabitants.
Fancy, for instance, the difficulty, or rather improbability, of a number
of nomadic warriors great enough to drive out the population of
Kitsiel, making their way up Cataract canyon and besieging the
pueblo. Such an approach would have been impossible. Marauders
might have raided the Kitsiel cornfields, but they could not have
dislodged the inhabitants. Even if they had succeeded in capturing
one house but little would have been gained, as it was a custom of
the Pueblos to keep enough food in store to last more than a year. In
this connection the question is pertinent, While hostiles were
besieging Kitsiel how could they subsist during any length of time?
Only with the utmost difficulty, even with aid of ropes and ladders,
can one now gain access to some of these ruins. How could
marauding parties have entered them if the inhabitants were hostile?
The cliff-dwellings were constructed partly for defense, but mainly for
the shelter afforded by the overhanging cliff, and the cause of their
desertion was not due so much to predatory enemies as failure of
crops or the disappearance of the water supply.
The writer does not regard these ruins as of great antiquity; some
of the evidence indicates that they are of later time. Features in their
architecture show resemblances derived from other regions. The
Navaho ascribe the buildings to ancient people and say that the
ruined houses existed before their own advent in the country, but this
was not necessarily long ago. Such evidence as has been gathered
supports Hopi legends that the inhabitants were ancient Hopi
belonging to the Flute, Horn, and Snake families.
There is no evidence that cliff-house architecture developed in
these canyons, and rude structures older than these have been
found in this region. Whoever the builders of these structures were,
they brought their craft with them. The adoption of the deflector in
the rectangular ceremonial rooms called kihus implies the derivation
of these rooms from circular kivas, and all indications are that the
ancient inhabitants came from higher up San Juan river.
Many of the ruins in Canyon de Chelly situated east of Laguna
creek show marked evidence of being modern, and they in turn are
not so old as those of the Mesa Verde. If the ruins become older as
we go up the river the conclusion is logical that the migration of the
San Juan culture was down the river from east to west, rather than in
the opposite direction. The scanty traditions known to the author
support the belief in a migration from east to west, although there
were exceptional instances of clan movements in the opposite
direction. The general trend of migration would indicate that the
ancestral home of the Snake and Flute people was in Colorado and
New Mexico.

BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 50 PLATE 22

 SKETCH MAP
OF THE
·NAVAHO NATL·MONUMENTS·
FROM OFFICIAL REPORTS BY
W·B·DOUGLASS
U·S·GENL· LAND OFFICE
1910
 It is evident from the facts here recorded that the ruins in the
Navaho National Monument contain most important, most
characteristic, and well-preserved prehistoric buildings, and that the
problems they present are of a nature to arouse great interest in
them. Having suffered comparatively little from vandalism, these are
among the best-preserved monuments of the cliff-dwellers’ culture in
our Southwest, and if properly excavated and repaired they would
preserve most valuable data for the future student of prehistoric man
in North America. It is not necessary to preserve all the ruins within
this area, but it would be well to explore the region and to locate the
sites of the ruins that it contains.

FOOTNOTES:

[52] The writer was not able to determine the exact site of the
traditional Tokónabi, but believes one is justified in considering
the ruins visited to be prehistoric houses of the Snake (Flute),
Horn, and other Hopi clans whose descendants now live in Walpi.
[53] While circular subterranean kivas are found in some of the
ruins, none of these have the six pilasters so common higher up
on the San Juan, nor have these rooms ventilators like those of
Spruce-tree House. Some of the ruins have rectangular kivas,
above ground, entered from one side.
[54] The best example of walls of this kind is found in an
undescribed cliff-ruin in the canyon southwest of Cliff Palace.
[55] It is generally the custom to speak of the rectangular
subterranean rooms of Walpi as kivas, while the square or
rectangular rooms above ground, in which equally secret rites are
performed, are not so designated. Both types are ceremonial
rooms, but for those not subterranean the term kihu (clan
ceremonial room), instead of kiva, is appropriate.
 RECOMMENDATIONS

The writer has the honor to recommend that one of the largest two
cliff-dwellings in the Navaho National Monument, either Betatakin or
Kitsiel, be excavated, repaired, and preserved as a “type ruin” to
illustrate the prehistoric culture of the aborigines of this section of
Arizona; also that this work be supplemented by excavation and
repair of Inscription House, an ancient cliff-dwelling in West canyon.
He also recommends that one or more of the ruins in West canyon
be added to the Navaho National Monument and be permanently
protected by the Government.
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRELIMINARY
REPORT ON A VISIT TO THE NAVAHO NATIONAL MONUMENT,
ARIZONA ***

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