“There’s no way we’re going down there,” Dani said as the fire engine sped past the top of Gold Hill. It had taken them less than a minute to get to Shaftesbury High Street on the eastern side of town, plus another five minutes to get their gear on and climb onto the appliance, which was how they referred to the shiny three-year-old Volvo FL that had got them here. Phil shook his head. “Why the hell does the system keep telling us to go down that way? It’s cobbled, for God’s

Jude Bristow stood back from the pile of rubble obscuring the usually beautiful sea view and placed his palms on the small of his back. He leaned back as far as his balance would allow, stretching out his grumbling back muscles. “Jesus Christ,” he said. “I thought this was going to be easier.” Damian grunted. Jude’s mate was a man of few words, most of them not fit for public consumption. “Bastard thing,” he muttered. Jude nodded. “It is that. Did you have any idea so much of

Anika’s breath caught in her throat as she adjusted her camera’s focus. Perfect conditions. And she was out here on her own. How come no one else had looked at the weather forecast and seen it would be like this? In her camera viewfinder, St Catherine’s Chapel rose ahead of her, at the top of its hill outside Abbotsbury. Beyond, the sun was rising in a blaze of reds and oranges. It was gorgeous. She fired off some photos then moved up the hill to get closer to the chapel. The

Izzy Davison sat at the reception desk of the Sandbanks Hotel, her eyes heavy. The clock read 2am. She leaned back, listening to the soft hum of the intercom system and the background swoosh of the sea beyond the windows. The baby-listening service was part of her job, and usually, she didn’t mind it. But tonight was different. The baby in 204 – Ellie, her name was – had been crying for the past hour. Her wails echoed through the intercom, piercing the quiet of the hotel lobb

Detective Sergeant Dennis Frampton flapped his newspaper open. His wife had laid the kitchen table, the usual Tuesday morning spread: toast and jam, a pot of tea. Tomorrow there would be a boiled egg, Pam’s way of marking the middle of the week. And on Saturday, a fry-up. You had to go a long way to beat Pam’s fry-ups as far as Dennis was concerned, and even further since she’d switched to using an air fryer. The olive oil had taken longer to acclimatise to, but he was just a

Jim Wollason shivered as he climbed out of his van, parked next to the lifeguard building at the entrance to Lyme Regis’s famous Cobb. It was six am, only days until Christmas, and it was bloody freezing. Pulling the van’s back door open, he grabbed his coat; the warm one his daughter had given him last Christmas. He’d had the same old waterproof for years and had protested when she told him it wasn’t enough, but he was damn glad of this one. He zipped the coat up and made hi

“Where’s she gone?” Faye Reed tugged on her boyfriend’s hand as she surveyed the abandoned village. He turned to her. “Who, Daisy?” he asked. She nodded. Kyle looked at her. “She went to look at the schoolhouse, didn’t she?” Faye shook her head. “It’s locked, this time of night.” “Huh?” Faye gave him a look. “You heard me. She went to have a look, knocked on the door, then went off that way.” She pointed past the church, the only fully intact building in the place. Kyle shrug

“Just give me five minutes, love. I want to watch the news.” Gina O’Toole didn’t wait for her husband to reply before making her way from the kitchen into the living room. The TV was already on in the corner; she’d turned it on as soon as she’d got the text from Hattie. There’s been an escape. Gina had almost choked when she’d read that. An escape. There were hundreds of prisoners in His Majesty’s Prison Service. Thousands. It wouldn’t be him. But it might be. Clutching her h

The room was dark when DCI Lesley Clarke woke up, and for a moment she wondered where she was. She lay back on the pillows, listening. The flat she and Elsa shared in Bournemouth was quiet in the mornings, the only sound the seagulls screeching over the beach three streets away. But the bed was at the wrong angle. She could see light seeping round curtains and it was at the side of the bed, not the foot. She remembered, smiling. Rolling over, she snuggled up to Elsa. “Morning

Christina smiled as Nick swung her hand, keeping pace with their footsteps like a pendulum. It was chilly today and she’d forgotten her gloves, but she was trying to ignore that as she felt his fingers wrapping around hers. It wasn’t just the first time they’d gone for a walk together; it was the first time she’d brought him home to Dorset. He slowed pace, forcing her to slow too, and frowned. “What’s that?” he said. “What’s what?” “That birdsong. I’m trying to place it.” She

DCI Lesley Clarke had to focus to keep herself from tumbling down the hill towards the River Frome. This lane, a mile or so from Wareham in Dorset, was steep and narrow, the trees reaching over her head and meeting there like a green archway. Her second in command DS Dennis Frampton huffed along behind her, unhappy that they’d had to walk down. “Come on, Dennis,” she called back to him. “Gail’s been there almost an hour. At this rate, even Whittaker will get there before us.”

PC Douglas Anderson was having a bad day. He’d been woken at 4am by his daughter Poppy, and despite Naomi getting up and sending him back to bed, he hadn’t found sleep afterwards. At 6:30 when he’d eventually given up, he’d discovered that the boiler was on the blink and there was no hot water for a shower. And now, despite the skies being clear when he left home, raindrops the size of gumdrops were splattering his police uniform. Douglas yawned and tried to shake himself out

Ines Perez opened the front door to the house, her senses on fire. Her boyfriend Vali was behind her, holding her hand. He tugged at it as she stepped over the threshold. “Are you sure this is OK?” he said. “She’s definitely gone for the weekend?” Ines turned and gave him the most reassuring smile she could muster, despite her own nerves. “It’s fine,” she whispered. “She’s at her chalet in Verbier, the house is empty.” His eyes brightened. She could sense the excitement strea

Shane Gisborne’s mum had told him that coming down here before the castle opened was trespassing. But Shane didn’t care, he’d done it often enough. There was a spot down by the Globe he liked. Tucked in behind it, looking out to sea but nestled in the shelter of the massive concrete sphere. It was a good spot to squirrel yourself away and hide. To smoke weed. On Saturday he’d brought Lorelei, who he very much hoped was going to be his new girlfriend. Today, he wasn’t with Lor

Frankie knocked on the door of the low-roofed cottage and pulled her arms around herself, wishing she’d brought a jacket. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see a rabbit disappearing around the side of the building. She smiled. Rabbits got the visitors excited, but they were as common as rats on Brownsea Island. Red squirrels: now they were more of a rarity. The visitors came here every day, seeking them out, marvelling over their rareness. What th

Ameena Khan parked on a narrow lane in the quiet village of Studland and stared out into the darkness. It wasn’t quite dawn, the last of the streetlights not yet extinguished. She yawned and heaved herself out of the car, then went to the boot and took out her camera bag and a thick, waterproof jacket. She raised her fingers to feel the damp air. Last night’s forecast had said it would be sunny later, perfect conditions for what she was planning. She slammed the boot shut, sh

Laila stopped halfway up the stairs, her senses pricking. There was someone in her room. She could hear drawers being pulled out, doors being opened. Footsteps; no matter how hard the intruder tried to be stealthy, this was an old, creaky house. Was Archie back? No. Archie wasn’t coming back till Monday. He had a meeting in London, something to do with securing extra funding for the dig. Now they’d uncovered evidence of 12th century occupation, they were all hopeful. Holding