No Mark Upon Her

surely—there’s no question about what happened. Becca’s death was an accident.”
    Instead of answering, Kincaid turned to Freddie. “Do you know anyone who might have wanted to harm your ex-wife, Mr. Atterton?”
    “Hurt Becca?” Freddie stared at him. “Why would anyone want to hurt her? She may have been hard to get on with sometimes, but to think someone would deliberately— That’s daft.”
    Kincaid glanced round the cottage. The décor might be spare, but it was expensive, and the cottage itself must be worth a pretty penny. “Let’s look at it another way, Mr. Atterton. Who stands to gain from your wife’s death?”
    Freddie Atterton appeared utterly baffled. “Gain?”
    “Did she have a will?”
    “When we were married, yes. I’ve no idea if she changed it.”
    “And if she didn’t?”
    “Then—” Freddie pushed his hair back with a shaking hand. “Then I suppose everything comes to me.”
    T avie walked down the steps from her front door into West Street. Tosh, looking most undignified for a German shepherd, bunny-hopped down the stairs beside her. The fire training tower across the street loomed in the darkness, a hulking shape, but she and Tosh had both climbed it many times in SAR training and it held no fears for either of them.
    The dampness that had risen from the river at dusk had dissipated, leaving the air chilly and crisp. She could see stars overhead, and somewhere a fire was burning.
    Tavie loved autumn, and as she walked down into Market Place, Tosh trotting easily at her knee, she realized how much she loved this simple thing. When they were working, she and the German shepherd were connected, but they were joined by an invisible line of tension, as if Tosh were the head of an arrow and Tavie the stabilizing end of the shaft.
    But when they walked for pleasure, as they did now, swinging along side by side, there was a synchronicity between them quite unlike anything Tavie had ever experienced.
    She felt herself begin to relax as she took her rhythm from the dog, and her mood began to lift.
    Leaving the market square, they crossed Duke Street, and she thought perhaps they would go only as far as the river, after all. Maybe she had overreacted about Kieran, and should wait and talk to him tomorrow.
    Then, up ahead, she saw a dog tethered to a potted tree outside Magoos, the bar where everyone in Henley seemed to eventually meet and mingle. A black Lab. A black Lab that turned from his vigilant watch over the bar’s doorway and began to wag happily when he saw them. Finn.
    Tosh strained at her lead and Tavie checked her, the ease of a moment before shattered.
    “Hello, boy. What are you doing here?” she said as she reached Finn. Kneeling, she let him give her a slobbery Labrador kiss while she rubbed his ears. What the hell was Kieran thinking, leaving him outside a bar? Tethering a trained dog outside a shop for a moment or two was one thing, but this—Finn was a valuable dog. Anyone could have walked off with him.
    Anyone could have done what she was doing right now, she thought as she unlooped Kieran’s tidy knot. When she’d freed the dog, she tried to peer in the windows of the bar, but the half-shutters blocked her view.
    And what the hell was Kieran doing in Magoos? she asked herself. She’d never seen him drink more than a pint, and that was when he’d been more or less coerced by the team. She’d certainly never seen him in a bar on his own.
    His lead untied, Finn jerked her into motion, pulling towards the door of the bar and whining. Tavie hesitated a moment, then tightened her hold on both dogs and charged through the door. Tuesday nights were fairly quiet—no live music, no pub quiz, no DJ—but there was still a good crowd in the long, narrow bar.
    Heads turned, and the noise level dropped a fraction. Mike, the bartender, looked up from the glass he was wiping. “Tavie.” His quick smile faded. “Hey, you can’t bring the dogs—” But Tavie was already shaking her head.
    “I’m not staying.” She’d seen Kieran, alone at a table against the wall. Before him sat an almost empty glass and a large bottle of Strongbow cider. Finn had seen him, too, and strained at his lead, giving a little yelp of excitement.
    Tavie stopped, reining in the dogs, before she reached the table. “Kieran.”
    He looked up, his long face made suddenly younger by his expression of surprise. But the surprise turned quickly to dismay, then fear. As he started to