While Logan actually did have first-hand experience of being in a very similar situation to the one the pathologist had just described, he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You can’t imagine.”

She lingered in that faraway place a while longer, until the clack of colliding pool balls dragged her out of it.

“Right, so. Down to business,” she said, locking eyes with Logan across the table. “So, they’re dead, obviously. All four of them are very much dead, and have been for a couple of days, I’d say, but that’s a very rough estimate at the moment.”

“Any idea yet on cause of death?” Logan asked. “There was a lot of blood.”

“Again, this is preliminary, but initial indications are that they were all stabbed in the chest, almost certainly while tied up.”

“What sort of size knife are we looking at?”

“Sort of…” Shona spotted a jar on the table filled with cutlery wrapped in paper napkins. She pulled out a set, discarded the fork and spoon, then presented Logan with the round-ended knife. “About that length, I’d say, based on the width of the wounds. Only much sharper, obviously. You’re not getting that thing through even a child’s sternum. Not without a run-up.”

She realised that a couple of the men over by the pool table had turned their way while she spoke that last sentence, and dropped the volume of her voice so they couldn’t hear.

“The adult male was stabbed repeatedly—ten, maybe fifteen times—the others just two to three times each.”

“Is that all? Lucky them,” Logan remarked. “All sounds a bit sloppy.”

“Yes and no,” Shona replied. “Can’t say they were the cleanest kills I’ve ever seen, but whoever did it at least knew where the hearts all were.”

Logan frowned. “Surely everyone knows where the heart is?”

“You’d be surprised. Most people reckon it’s much further left than it actually is. But, the killer knew exactly where it was. At least one of each victim’s wounds was directly centred on the heart. And I mean directly centred on it. From what I can gather from the outside, anyway. I’ll have to open them all up to confirm.”

“Could’ve just got lucky,” Logan suggested.

“Once or twice, maybe. Or with the adult male, when it was more frenzied. But four times? Seems like more than luck. He—or she, I suppose, I don’t want you accusing me of throwing assumptions around—had a solid understanding of exactly where the heart sits in the chest, I’m sure of it. He might be from a medical background.”

“Or she,” Logan added.

“Or she, yes. Sorry.” Shona wrinkled her nose. “Unlikely to be a woman though, isn’t it? I mean, I’d have thought.”

“Why?” Logan asked.

“I mean… really. How many women carry out home invasions? Statistically, how likely is it?”