They had gone back to the house to change their clothes before driving down to the boatyard. Strike's reticence at not allowing Robin to come was not just due to her recovery. He hadn't been out on a boat since he had lost his leg. This was going to be a test for him. He wasn't ready yet for her to see him flounder any more than she had done already. Neither Ted and Nick mentioned whether he would be alright they just expected him to get on with it and that was how he liked it.

Strike quickly smoked a cigarette out of the window, "You're doing that too much lad," Ted stated, eyes firmly on the road, "Better if you didn't do it at all," Ted's did not reserve his opinion when it came to Strike's nicotine habit especially with his recent worries about Joan.

"Yep,"

"You don't smoke Nick?" Ted pointedly asked the doctor.

"No, Ted disgusting habit,"

Strike turned to look back at Nick shaking his head as his old friend laughed silently.

Getting the boat ready had taken half an hour and soon, before he got the chance to think about it, they were out on the creek heading towards the mouth of the Percuil. The old wooden motorboat mowed through the grey-green water. Ted had been given the area they were to search back in St Mawes. He steered the boat while Strike and Nick sat port and starboard on the benches. The trip downriver was smooth, the water almost still. When they reached St Mawes the family stood on the harbour wall waiting for them to pass. The boys waving manically at them. Robin's red-gold hair lifted and twisted in the wind as she stood with Ilsa. He wondered if she had forgiven him yet.

Soon they were at the mouth of the river and the breakers grew. The spume and rise of the water hitting the boat from both sides. Now the boat was tilting up and down over the deep furrows - the waves too strong to slice through. Water sprayed upwards and splashed on the deck, on Strike and Nick as they began to search the sea with their binoculars. Strike's boots kept him upright on the slippery deck. After a while, he forgot that he had any reservations at all. Now he was covered in a mist of wet the winter cold began to bite at his face, the short beard gave little protection.

"You've done this before then?" Nick asked when Strike had explained what to do.

"Hmm - first time was a kid. Dragged out to sea by the current,"

"Bloody Hell - did you find them?"

"No - found by another boat."

The boat tracked around St Anthony's Head, the white elegant lighthouse seemed to look down at the little boat with disdain at the task it was trying to accomplish. Strike searched the rocks although they had probably been looked at, if there was a body, the sea may not release it.

Ilsa and Robin walked up the quay to Lower Castle Road and headed to the Bolventor Hotel. Its brick was painted white as if it was on a Greek island rather than on the English coast. But the building was a combination of several houses. It overlooked the mouth of the river and the water sparkled indigo against the green and brown fields on the finger of land on the other side.

They were shown to a table on the terrace and were given deep blue fleece blankets to keep warm against the wind. Robin looked out to the lighthouse where they had watched the boat disappear around the headland. She tried to quell the disappointment and anger she felt at not be able to go with them, her curiosity about the body lingering.

"How has it been at Ted and Joan's?"

"Absolutely fine - they're lovely people,"

"Sorry, I meant, how has it been with Corm at Ted and Joan's with Lucy, Greg and the three boys,"

"Oh!" Robin laughed, "I think he's coping for now - there was a moment with Greg this morning, he'd made some underhand crack about whether Cormoran would be able to not mess up this relationship like all the others, I thought I saw steam coming out of Cormoran's ears! He's trying to keep a lid on it, for Joan,"

Ilsa's laughter died as quickly as it started, "It must be hard for her the waiting,"

"I think she's just trying to enjoy having her family around her,"

Ilsa's face was suddenly etched with pain, "They were lucky - not that Leda died - but before that, Corm and Lucy spent a lot of time with them over the years, they haven't missed out not being able to have children themselves,"

Robin took Ilsa's hand and squeezed, Ilsa spluttered a laugh and shook her head as if her hurt was foolish, "Shall I change the subject?"

Ilsa nodded.

"Did you ever meet Leda?"

"A couple of times here and at Corm's eighteenth birthday but Nick knew her better. I don't think she was just her groupie persona, when she was young there weren't obvious ways out of Cornwall or many opportunities here, I mean look at my Mum," Ilsa had been the first person in her family to go to University. Her mother had married young and had never had a job. "But she was always warm to me the times I met her, kind and interesting to talk to, lots of stories and she was interested in the world, she encouraged Corm to get himself to University. No one here did that for me,"

"It plays on my mind that Whittaker is still out there, I agree with Cormoran, it's more than likely he killed her. When I met him that time he was chilling and he seems to have got away with it. He was so cruel to that girl he was pimping - I wouldn't be surprised if she was in a lot of danger,"

"But what can you do?"

"I've been going to Catford every week since the summer - not while I've been ill though," Ilsa had gasped at Robin's admission, "Just to check that the girl - Stephanie…is well, keep an eye on Whittaker is up to,"

"Bloody hell! Does Corm know?"
Robin lifted an eyebrow. If it wasn't so serious Ilsa would have laughed at this appropriation of Strike's mannerisms.

He could see people already searching the little golden beaches that were tucked into the crevices of the limbs of rock that stretched out and bathed themselves in the sea. White dunes spread along the shore that had long crumbled into the sea. Portscatho sat on the craggy rock, all white fisherman cottages where hardly anyone lived permanently just the summer blow-ins. Gerrans church watched over the two villages. They trailed the coastline towards where Nare's Head had abandoned a part of itself and had left it forgotten, Gull's rock had been left abandoned in the sea, with only the white-grey birds to keep it company. One gull was held aloft by the current of the wind, still in the air with wings outstretched, as if held by an invisible thread. The dark cliffs of the headland gave way to more beach. The sea was more ultramarine here in the protection of the cove, translucent near the rocks.

Gull Rock seemed to be trying to raise itself out of the consuming ocean, its white-tipped shards stretching to the sky. The waves smashed against the harsh rock in a wide-arching spray of white, as the wave receded Strike caught a flash of unnatural colour against the mottled grey-green rock.

The body had been thrown over the rock. Then another wave of white bubbling froth crashed over it and sucked it back into the sea.

"Ted!" Strike shouted and pointed.

Ted manoeuvred the boot as close as he dared, unable to go up to the rock itself. The body was dashed against the rocks again.

Strike could hear Ted report their position on the radio over the slap and rush of the sea. He and Nick scoured the water for a sighting of the body as the water lulled. Then in an utter fluke, they heard a thud against the hull. Nick threw down his binoculars and leant dangerously over the side. The body was face down, legs and arms floating downwards as if the man was looking down at something below him. Strike slid across the wet floor but as he sank to his knees he managed to grab hold of Nick. He stayed half holding on to the boat and half holding on to Nick who had hold of the man's clothing. Ted hurried to join them and they lugged the body over the side, "Good lads," he huffed.

The overweight body sprawled over the deck face down. The thin hair plastered to the scalp. The clothes had nearly been pulled off by the current, revealing the man's curved belly. Nick checked the body over for a pulse but the man was clearly dead. They turned the body over. David Scutari's misted eyes stared at them, unseeing, through half-open lids, mouth agape open as if in mid-sentence. His cold skin unnaturally tan in winter had a bluish tinge and was covered in garish red grazing, cuts and livid bruising - the winter sea and cruel rocks had done a lot of damage.

"It's him," Ted stated,

Robin looked at her watch to see how long they had been searching. Both her and Ilsa's eyes drifted to the crag of rock to check for the boat.

"So, you'd start back on your degree in April?"

Robin nodded, "Yes as long as I've applied to the Open by March,"

"I'm really pleased you've decided to finish it,"

"I'm hoping it will be useful when I look back at Laing and the police were doing nothing, for us to have had that kind of insight may have meant we didn't waste so much time on Brockbank and Whittaker. I know it's with the benefit of hindsight but he'd already attacked his wife with a knife,"

"Still, look what you managed to achieve with Brockbank!"

"I know but it cost people their lives,"

"And you're sure you want to move in with Vanessa? You don't need to feel you're in our way,"

"I know but when you got married you probably thought you wouldn't need to have a housemate again!"

"Was Corm pleased about all your news?"

Robin pulled a face.

"So, I'm the first to know?"

Robin nodded, "I wanted an unbiased opinion, also the right time has not arisen yet, "

"Well, what if he asks you to move in with him?"

Robin's chest tightened at the thought he might ask her, "In the attic flat? It's as big as your living room and dining room put together! We'd kill each other long term and I don't think he'd want to move out - it's so convenient for him, why are you pulling that face?"

"He really missed you, I'm not so sure he won't ask,"

The red and white of the Royal Navy Culdrose helicopter appeared from the west. As the stuttering flap of the propellers Strike had to remind himself he on the deck of his uncle's boat. The helicopter was not coming for him. He wasn't bleeding out, half a leg obliterated.

"You alright?" Nick tried to be nonchalant.

Strike grunted an affirmative in reply but had to sit back on the bench for a moment, Ted had rushed back to the radio. Above them, he could see the rescue team in their orange jumpsuits leaning from the opening looking down at them and the body lying untouched and prostrate. The propellers moved so fast they appeared to flicker as the helicopter descended down as far as it could.

With their legs in an L sit, they abseiled downwards. Followed by cradle to pick up the body with. Strike stood to help them lift and strap the body. As he would have done years ago he gave them the details of how they had found him in staccato sentences before they hoisted the body into the air.

The three men stood watching until they were alone in the ocean again the sound of the propellers slicing through the air becoming fainter. Strike already felt the nag of the question of how Scutari had ended up like a piece of driftwood on the ocean he had known so well.

"Ladies, is everything to your satisfaction, would you like more drinks?"

Robin and Ilsa looked up at the incredibly handsome man. He was well over six foot, blonde and was not wearing the costume of all the other wait staff. Instead, he wore a cable knit pale grey jumper with the sleeves pushed up revealing strong tanned forearms and black washed-out skinny jeans that made his legs impossibly long and lean.

"We're fine thanks," Robin stated making eye-contact but sounding firm.

"It's Christmas Eve - please let me offer you something on the house?" he looked back into the dining room and waved his hand, "I'm Peter - Scutari,"

Robin raised her eyebrows. He was clearly then a relative of the man Strike had gone out to search for. Why was this man not doing the same? Peter held his hand out to Ilsa who shook it and then he put the full strength of his enigmatic gaze onto Robin. She took his hand and gave a cool look back.

"I haven't seen you both before, are you staying in the hotel?"

"No, we just came in for some afternoon drinks," Ilsa said.

He nodded, "Have you come down from London,"

"Well, Ilsa is from St Mawes originally but yes,"

He looked at Ilsa as if trying to place her.

"You won't remember me, you must have been about 8 when I left?"

"Oh okay, so it's Ilsa and - ?"

"Robin."

"Robin - that's a unique name, a winter bird," He slid onto a chair at their table clearly thinking they would be grateful of his company. Robin surreptitiously rolled her eyes at Ilsa who covered her laugh with a hand.

"We're sorry to hear your…father? Has gone missing?"

"Not my father…step-father. I'm not worried - he's just got drunk and left his boat untethered,"

"But I thought the family didn't know where he was?"

"Well, shall we say that's a normal occurrence…please don't concern yourself. When he finally comes back he'll be angry with everyone for making such a fuss,"

Robin thought of Strike, Nick, Ted and the many others searching for the man instead of being with them on Christmas Eve.

"So, what do you both do in London?"

Robin found it hard to conceal her sigh.

Once back at the boatyard in St Mawes, the police were waiting to take their statements.

"Corm, do you remember Gwenifer?" Ted introduced the uniformed policewoman.

Strike froze as he looked at the plain clothed police officer he had been to school with. She hadn't changed much at all, her blonde hair was tied up in a perfectly smooth bun so the impact of her perfectly balanced features hit you straight away also she still carried a constrained air. Gwenifer had been the girl every boy fancied at school from primary through to secondary. But she had not gone out with any of them. In cruel and vindictive vengeance, the boys that had been turned down by her fostered her reputation for being a prude. After one impromptu party at Porthbeor beach, she had offered Strike a lift home with her. That was when Dave Polworth his oldest friend had started a long-standing joke that Strike had been the one to take her long-protected virginity. Strike had vehemently denied it and then after the years had passed done so with exasperation.

"Corm, so good to see you - been reading about you in the paper!" Gwenifer smiled up at him. There weren't many in the police who were as happy to see him, it made a nice change as he bent down to receive a markedly warm hug.

Gwenifer informed them that the body of Scutari had been taken to the Royal Cornwall and had been pronounced dead. They made arrangements with her to go to the station and give their statements after Boxing Day.

"I know this is going to be difficult for our small village but we need to tell the family so can you not say anything until we've had a chance to do it. Someone's on the way to the house now," Gwenifer said.

They agreed and she left, all of them knowing full well this was going to be hard to achieve.