“Always do, boss,” Tyler replied, then Logan heard the creaking of the front door and the whistling of the wind as the younger officer headed outside.

With one last glance around the room, Logan manoeuvred himself to the head of the staircase, and clambered down it backwards, like he was descending a ladder.

When his head was about level with the floor, he stopped, a shadow on the carpet catching his eye. He squinted at it for a few moments, then the stairs groaned in complaint as he made his way back up them again.

Dropping onto his hands and knees, Logan studied the spot where the shadow had fallen. There was a rectangular indent in the pile of the carpet, roughly the size of a playing card. He traced a gloved fingertip across it, then twisted so the side of his head was almost flat against the floor, and immediately spotted a second indent about two feet away.

From there, it was easy to find two more, four feet from the first set of imprints.

He almost overlooked a fifth, slap bang in the middle, but spotted it as he stood up and blocked the light from one of the windows.

Something had been on that spot, although it was impossible to tell when. The fibres of the carpet had at least partially sprung back up, suggesting that the object had been removed a while ago. Or, if it had been taken away recently, it hadn’t been there long enough to leave much of a mark.

Logan considered the depressions in the carpet. It had been something with five feet—one at each corner, and one more in the middle for extra support.

Something heavy, then.

Not the right shape for an armchair. Far too small for a couch. A table? In a bedroom? Unlikely.

He quickly checked the feet of the dressing table. Four. Far too narrow. It wasn’t that, then.

So, what?

An idea had just begun to form when Logan heard voices out front. The angle of the windows gave a fantastic view of the mountains and sky, but made it impossible to see what was happening closer to home.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out what was going on, though, as the front door opened and Tyler’s voice came rising up the stairs again.

“You there, boss?”

“I am,” Logan said, turning down the two or three far more sarcastic answers that had immediately sprung to mind, on account of there being company present. “What’s the matter?”

“Got someone here to see you, boss,” Tyler called up to him.

“Tell him it’s urgent,” a second voice said from close-by outside.

“He says it’s urgent.”

Logan took out his phone, squatted, and snapped a photograph of the indents in the carpet. He checked the screen, making sure the marks could be seen, then tucked the mobile away in a coat pocket.