CRIME ON THE FENS a gripping detective thriller full of suspense by JOY ELLIS Page A

lab reckon they will be able to retrieve information from it.’
    ‘Right, so we now know she’s been abducted.’ Nikki drew in a deep breath, ‘It’s time to get the official wheels turning.’
    The super held up his hand. ‘Yes, but before we open the floodgates, Inspector, I want to know, one hundred per cent, that the phone belonged to her.’
    ‘It has to be hers!’ exploded Nikki. ‘Her friends say she often goes up the seabank, either taking photos or sky watching with her little ‘mate,’ Kris. And she was last seen wearing hiking boots, what more do you want?’
    ‘Confirmation,’ said the super patiently.
    ‘Sir! You know the time scale for finding abductees. The first twenty-four hours are crucial! And we’ve already lost valuable hours . . .’
    The superintendent reached for the ringing phone. ‘It’s the lab,’ he muttered holding his hand over the mouthpiece. After a few short words, he hung up and looked from her to Joseph. ‘It’s Kerry Anderson’s alright. The last message she received, and the last call she made, were both to and from the same person.’
    ‘Don’t tell me,’ Nikki was already making for the door, ‘Kris Brown.’

CHAPTER EIGHT
    The word ‘village’ conjures up a certain rural quaintness, but as Nikki and Joseph drove into Barnby Eaudyke, they found nothing of the sort. The cottages and houses were scattered in meagre clusters, and every one of them edged the vast arable fields that ran all the way down to the marsh. The narrow lane that served as the main road was clogged with mud spewed up from the tractor tyres, and chickens roamed at will across the pocked-marked asphalt.
    The Browns’ cottage sat a little way back from the road. The front garden had mainly been given over to a shingle car-parking area and turning space, and the cottage itself, although not exactly ramshackle, could have used a hearty dose of TLC.
    ‘Hardly chocolate box, is it?’ said Joseph, looking at the weather-bleached paintwork.
    ‘What do you expect!’ Nikki snorted. ‘These are farm worker’s places. And this is the Fens, not the cosy Cotswolds. They work god-awful hours to just about scrape an existence. So, along with the east wind and the North Sea—’
    ‘Okay, okay, I get the picture.’
    Nikki swung the car into a lay-by, intended for church business, and they walked back.
    In the absence of a bell, Joseph rapped hard on the wooden front door.
    A dog barked sharply, and then they heard a voice call out. ‘It’s open. And Swampy doesn’t bite.’
    Joseph pushed the door, and was greeted by a small brown and white spaniel that barked excitedly, then fled back into the cottage.
    ‘We’re looking for Kris Brown,’ called out Joseph.
    ‘Then you’ve found him.’ The young man was tall, skinny in the extreme, and had a floppy mop of almost black hair and thin wire-framed glasses. ‘What can I do for you?’ he asked, mildly suspiciously.
    Both Nikki and Joseph produced their warrant cards. ‘We’d like a word please, Mr Brown.’
    Nikki watched the eyes. After looking closely at their cards, he looked up and she saw the suspicion had been replaced by confusion. He shrugged, then stood back from the door.
    ‘I suppose you’d better come in.’
    The door led directly into the sitting room. He pointed vaguely towards two armchairs that flanked the fireplace. ‘Sit down, if you want to.’ He perched on the arm of an overstuffed sofa and stared at them. ‘So what’s this about?’
    ‘You are a friend of Kerry Anderson, Mr Brown?’
    ‘Yes.’ The eyes narrowed slightly.
    ‘When did you see her last?’
    The vagueness fell away. ‘Kerry?’ He said sharply. Now there was concern, in both his expression and his voice. ‘Has something happened to her?’
    ‘Well, we thought perhaps you may know the answer to that, Mr Brown.’ Nikki didn’t take her eyes off him. If he was acting, he was bloody good. But then Nikki had seen some award winning performances in