7
Wendy had thought that perhaps a new morning would bring fresh hope, but a distinct lack of sleep had put paid to that.
She’d lain awake for most of the night thinking about the scene she’d witnessed at Jeff Brelsford’s house. No matter how many crime scenes she saw, she never quite managed to get over the sense of sorrow she felt. Every dead body was a brother, sister, mother, father, son or daughter. It was a friend, a neighbour, a colleague. Every one had a story to tell, but their final story was her job to uncover.
Her walk from the car park into the staff entrance of Mildenheath Police Station was one which had been tinged with sadness ever since Luke Baxter’s death. At the entrance was a brass plaque, which read In memory of PC Luke Baxter above his dates of birth and death. It
