‘I’m sure they’re dead,’ she said. ‘And, by the look of them, I’d say in my limited experience, without the coroner, that they’ve been like this for some time.’

He nodded.

‘I think the dogs might have had a go,’ she said, noticing one of the hands looked chewed. She glanced back at the dogs and their snouts looked stained. The officer patting them recoiled and another came in with some rope to tether them and lead them out. They’d probably be destroyed, given their apparent taste for human flesh. She guessed these were the same animals that terrorised Carry Tomlin, here in this hovel: the vision was repulsive. They whined and looked up at her as they passed, guided by the officer. She felt a pang of sympathy for them: it wasn’t their fault.

Flashing lights whirred outside and, shortly after, a medic came into the room.

‘Fucking hell. Hi, Kelly.’ Kelly was familiar with most of the forensic staff called upon to help the police in Cumbria.

‘It’s the rocky horror show.’

It was true, the two victims looked as though they were painted for the stage, in some macabre production.

‘My guess is they’ve been dead for over a week, what’s yours?’ she asked.

He got closer. ‘Maybe more. It’s nice and cold in here, but there are large larvae in there,’ he said, going closer to the body. ‘There’s a lot of thermal heat being generated inside.’ He gently moved a piece of clothing, revealing a mass of crawling insects having a banquet. Kelly looked away.

‘Do you know who they are?’

‘I think I do. He was my main suspect right there.’ Kelly pointed to the male victim. He appeared to be staring straight ahead, at her, waiting for her to sit down and start chatting. She’d seen his face dozens of times, as described in such detail by Fred O’Reilly, and so well painted by the police artist.

She was staring into the face of Kirk Junker, and she’d bet her last dollar that the woman next to him was his wife, Gloria.

The question was, where were Jock Harris and the girl?

But her most disturbing realisation was, if the bodies in front of her had been rotting for more than a week, then Kirk Junker couldn’t be her killer.

Chapter 58

‘Guv, we’ve got a situation at the Threlkeld Quarry.’ Kelly’s radio crackled and beeped.

‘When the patrol car got here, they disturbed someone inside one of the containers. The suspect scarpered, seemingly over the lip of the old quarry, and despite a thorough search on foot, they seem to have disappeared. There’s a man in a wheelchair here, bound and in rough shape. He was about to have three tons of slag and earth dropped on him inside an old storage unit.’

‘Is he alive?’