Chapter EightSitting in the back of the ambulance, Jenny felt a little self-conscious at being the centre of attention. The paramedic had cleaned her wound and bandaged it expertly. She felt grateful but wanted to get away as quickly as she could. The policeman had been kind, the same one she'd met over on the cliffs when the helicopter was searching for the pot-holer. But he had been meticulous and needed to know why she was out in Fletcher's fields, at night, and why she and the farmer had had a fight.
“We didn't have a fight,” she said, trying to make herself sound convincing. All the policeman did was give her a twisted smile. “It's the truth! I couldn't see him and I tripped over, that's it.”
“So why are there marks on his body?” He brought up the little shovel, now held in a sealed
