The march back to Grimshaw Hall was silent but for the muffled thud of boots on damp earth and the clipped chatter of mountain-rescue radios. It was a strange procession: rescuers in bright jackets, the Cold Case Team bunched together like schoolchildren on an unexpected trip, and behind them—Joan Grimshaw, walking as if she were hosting a garden tour rather than being flanked by ten witnesses who had just interrupted the beginning of a murder.

Rod and William brought up the rear, communicating in small, sharp looks. Neither tried to run. There were too many people now. Too much attention. Joan had lost the woods; she hadn’t lost the night.

Don walked at the front, beside the rescue leader, coordinating their cover story in a low voice. Georgie and Riggs stayed close to Masha, who kept gla...

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