She didn’t need the space. Johnny had virtually moved in – though not fully, because of his daughter Josie – but he’d deposited the stuff he needed in Kelly’s bedroom and her bathroom. The image that she’d once had of a beautiful tidy new bathroom stocked with female products placed in order, with fluffy white towels, had disappeared quickly after Johnny left his stuff everywhere. She didn’t mind.

They spent more and more time on the boat, the Wendy, as he’d christened her, after her mother. He’d repainted the name on the side of the vessel only this summer, and they’d taken her to the Peaks Bay to moor up and sit, staring into the crystal waters of Ullswater and remembering. No words were needed. They’d spent the whole summer practising their sailing skills on Derwent Water, and had been signed off as competent crew, and Johnny had passed his coastal skipper course, ready for their holiday of a lifetime to the Florida Keys. It wasn’t something that felt real at the moment, and neither of them had turned their thoughts to packing. The end of November seemed too far away to necessitate preparation.

Traffic in the town was steady and light rain began to fall.

‘Goodbye summer,’ she said.

‘My favourite time of year,’ said Rob.

‘Really?’ she turned to him. He filled the passenger seat and held on to a ceiling strap with one hand. She’d noticed a few crow’s feet creeping into the creases at the sides of his eyes: he’d shown his mettle and was becoming a seasoned detective. He ran his fingers though his mousy blonde hair – kissed by the mountain sun – and he peered out of the window, as if looking for something. She’d reminded him of what he liked to do out of work: adrenaline junkie sports.

‘It’s perfect for gliding and jumping. The tourists have all but gone home but the sun still comes out, and it’s lower, so it sheds a light across the fells like no other time of year.’

‘That’s poetic, Rob.’

‘I know. I amaze myself, boss. What about you?’

‘My favourite time of year in the Lakes?’

He nodded, still holding on to the strap, as if she were racing with blues blaring, which she clearly wasn’t. ‘Winter. The crisp blue sky and the fact that you can walk all week without seeing a soul.’

‘Nice.’ He stared ahead. They were nearly there. The rain became heavier and she flicked her windscreen wipers on.

‘Can I ask you something, boss?’

‘Go ahead.’

‘What’s the difference between a lead that you chase and something you pass on?’

‘No difference really. I give everything equal airtime. This one won’t be settled in my head until we know who she is.’

‘I came into this job expecting crime to be clear cut.’