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The little stash, despite its diminutive size, is probably worth a small fortune.

“Quite the coincidence that the body turned up near the bag.” Steed looks shaken. “Given his record, you think there’s a chance he might still be dealing?”

“I’d say so,” Elin says uneasily. She doesn’t like this, especially after Tom’s suspicions about the body. “I think it’s time we got the body up.”

—

The tarpaulin they’ve laid across the floor of the boat is already collecting water from Seth’s wetsuit and equipment, swelling pools peppered with speckles of sand.

The bulky rig on his back meant they’d had to place him on his side, and at first glance you’d think he was sleeping if it wasn’t for the pale color of his face, the stiffening limbs.

Elin crouches down beside him, the boat rocking slightly with the movement.

Tom reaches out, points. “Here,” he says quickly. “This is the valve I mentioned, it’s definitely been switched off. Like I said, he could have switched it back on, unless...” He gestures to the hood, his hand now trembling slightly.

Elin looks at where he’s pointing. This close, the puckering on the hood she’d glimpsed in the photo Tom had taken earlier underwater is clear, slight indentations visible in the fabric.

Her eyes shift between the valve and the hood.

She swallows. They tell a story, an awful one, and she blinks, unable to stop herself from picturing it: Seth struggling underwater, air no longer free flowing, a hand weighing him down...

“There’s something else,” Steed murmurs, moving closer. “Look, here, at the corner of his mouth. To the left of the respirator.”

A fine, powdery residue.

It’s been smeared by submersion in the water but is still visible. Some kind of chalk? It’s impossible to tell until it’s analyzed, but it bothers her.

Steed’s looking up and down the body. “Can’t see it anywhere else.”

Elin nods. She can taste bile, bitter in her mouth.

Everything’s telling her that this was no accident.

Seth has been murdered. His life brutally snuffed out beneath the water.