Page 164 of Slack Tide Kill

Sally said nothing. Barely certain of it herself.

"I guess, this child…" Liam paused, running the numbers. "OK. It was 60 years ago, wasn't it? So he'd easily be old enough to pass off as Reg's younger brother."

Sally's mind leaped ahead. "And the family resemblance? It could fly."

"Bugger me," Liam murmured. "Roarke's uncle is actually his older brother? So the fifth Rook was actually the first?"

Sally just stared ahead through the rain, ramifications tearing through her head. It felt like a bomb had just gone off; reorienting everything they knew about the case.

"It matches the Fates' profile," she said. "Male, age late 50s or thereabouts, foundational wound in his past, willing to do anything for Reg."

"And Reg ordered him to kill Richter. So this is a generational killing, after all!"

"Not exactly. Reg ordered it, but the son did the killing then, and almost certainly did the killing now."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I did not see that coming," Liam murmured.

"Reg kept him apart. Trusted him. Exploited him."

"And involved him in some life and death bullshit on the marsh."

Sally felt possibilities curdling in her guts. They had everything now. The motive, the history, the means and opportunity. Everything but the name.

"We need to get in with Roarke Rook."

Liam looked at her. "Right. He knows who his uncle is."

"I'll have him prepped for interview."

She brought up her phone. Liam pushed down on the gas. DI Gemmell answered and Sally made the request, her tone neutral, giving nothing away.

"He's still in IR1," Gemmell said. "We'll let it ride. Oh, and ma'am?"

"What is it?"

"The coast road's out. Best come inland, via Appledore."

"Thanks."

She hung up. Her whole body felt like it was buzzing.

"The coast road's out," she said, her lips numb. "We're going to have to take the scenic route."

"Got it."

Sally peered out over the marsh. There were no other cars on the road, now. Just the downpour and the swelling gutters either side. Liam accelerated through Lydd, past the museum and the old hotel, then north on Romney Road. Fields spread to either side, transformed into long flat expanses of water.

They sped alongside black sewers that breached the road in places. At the T-junction with Lydd Road a bizarre sight stretched ahead; a long curving waterfall, no more than a few inches deep, where the water on the road spilled into the lower-lying field. The effect stretched for as far as they could see.

"Never seen that before," Liam said.

"The marsh is flooding," Sally said softly. For a few moments they just sat there, watching the water flowing. "It's got to be hundreds of gallons a second."

A low mist crept across the waterlogged fields, fogging the distant details of cottages, trees and barns.

"Looks like we're reverting," Liam murmured. "Back to Owler days."