The Verdict. Olivia Isaac-Henry

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       Prologue

      Stumbling down the hill, filthy and too exhausted to even lift the shovels dragging behind them, they looked up to see a red glow starting to stretch along the ridge above. Dawn was breaking.

      ‘Hurry up,’ he said.

      At the bottom of the hill, she managed to haul herself over the stile, only to tumble down the slope on the other side and fall face down in the road, her fingernails bloodstained, her mouth and nose clogged with dirt. She could have fallen asleep there and then, not caring if she were seen.

      A hand reached under her armpit and hauled her to her feet.

      ‘Keep moving.’

      What was the point in moving or any attempt at concealment? He wouldn’t lie buried for ever. Someday, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week or next year, someone would find him.