Neil had to phone the beaters, peg out the drives and work on the tractor. The shoot had to be a success. If they had one more bad season, they would have to close. Others were already trying to buy the land. The sun spilled into the wood and sparkled in the stream. The bridge lay sprawled on the bank, just as it had fallen when Jeff had his accident. Neil stood by the broken timber. He looked over his shoulder, feeling uneasy. There was a strange feeling around here. He shivered. Smashed wood lay on both sides of the stream. But the posts were still firm. Two weren’t splintered like the others. They had clean cuts. Someone had sawn through the supports deliberately. Someone who wanted to hurt Jeff. Neil was furious. But worse was to come. Just ahead of him on the path, Neil glimpsed a sickening sight. The body of a large bird lay limply in a pile of leaves. The red kite was dead. It had been shot. Neil stroked its head and swore.
