Richard paced back and forth in his study. Bookshelves made of walnut wood covered the walls from the floor to the ceiling. His desk faced the window, the outside cloaked in darkness as the moon rose. Fire crackled in the fireplace, and lit up the family portrait above the mantel. He fought the urge to grab his fountain pen from his desk and stab Amber’s face from the canvas, puncture a hole where her heart should be. He turned off the gas to the fire – every crackle of flame reminded him of the barbaric act his wife had committed. He watched the fire diminish and wondered how it had felt for Amber’s parents to burn alive.

Two bodies were recovered from the scene: one male, 39, and one female, 37, who are believed to be the tenants of the property and the parents of the surviving child found at the rear of the property. A willing neighbour helped to obtain identification, but due to the severity of the burns that the victims sustained, official identification will be achieved through forensic testing in due course.

James hadn’t picked up his phone all day. Richard had planned to ask him to cancel the evening plans he had with Amber. Everything seemed to be coming to a head, but his wife had a way of knowing something without giving anything away, and he could feel a different energy in the air of the house. But James had warned him that paranoia would curdle his every thought. He remembered the sound of James speaking the words soothing his fears.

He had done everything James had asked of him, even betraying the trust of an innocent woman with a lot to lose, but now he had to put the safety of his daughter first. He thought he could continue lying to his wife, but after learning of her crimes, he would struggle to even look at her, let alone sleep next to her each night. If he and Samantha were going to escape, they had to do so quickly.