Rob clicked a tab and another photo came on the screen. ‘This is what I think is Fred’s altar by his window: the one facing west. Mary’s faced west, too, I had it confirmed.’

‘Why west?’

‘It’s the direction of autumn.’

‘The direction of autumn?’

‘Every element has a direction and a season. Fire is south.’

Kelly opened her mouth but nothing came out. The tiny hairs on her arms stood up on end. She saw months of investigation before them, stretching out into possibly years, as they chased some spurious nods to witchcraft, ultimately making her look like a prize dickhead in front of HQ.

‘Oh, God, Rob. You better make this watertight.’

Rob sat back and allowed Kelly to study the scanned image of his sketch, drawn hastily as she’d spoken to Fred and Sandra in their home. He’d labelled all of the articles and they were drawn in proportion so she could make them out clearly.

He was right. The table wasn’t a receptacle for random household objects, forgotten in a hurry and not tidied away. There was order, love and care – just the same as Mary’s. Fred’s table was covered in a more subtle brown cloth. There weren’t any leaves, but he had a small pumpkin, some nuts in their shells, a bowl of what looked like dried herbs, a similar incense burner and two candles: one white and one black.

‘I don’t know if you remember, but his table was partially covered with another cloth, as if he’d done it as we arrived.’

‘He hasn’t got as many things on it as Mary.’

‘I reckon he tidied some away for our benefit.’

‘Like maybe a boline knife?’

‘How thoughtful. Rob, does the Moon Goddess mean anything to you?’

‘Actually it does. I came across her when I was researching the magic tools.’ He looked at her awkwardly.

‘Magic tools?’

‘The items used for Pagan worship, the boline knife being one of them. She’s a Pagan goddess, the ultimate symbol of femininity.’

Kelly felt a sinking feeling in her stomach.

‘Are there any other types of knives used as magic tools?’

‘Yes, this one.’ Rob brought a picture up on his screen and Kelly examined it. Like the boline knife, it was beautiful and lethal. Small and straight and bejewelled. It was called an athame.

Chapter 28

Daphne fitted in easily amongst the people coming and going at the climbing centre. She looked like any other teenager wanting to purchase a chocolate bar from the vending machine, and toying with the idea of joining a new club to meet new friends. The club was large enough to be anonymous, and no one looked oddly at her for wearing sunglasses indoors. The entrance was lit by natural light, gushing in from an atrium above. It was reverent almost, and she squinted as she looked up. It reminded her of a church.