But something about this particular arrangement disturbed Kelly. It wasn’t like Fred and Mary’s in the sense that it invoked a sense of honour and worship. It looked sinister and confused. In the middle was a ceremonial knife exactly the same as Fred had described Mary’s. She picked it up with her gloved hand and handled it. It was truly beautiful. She checked her phone and satisfied herself that this was almost an exact match. She turned it over and held it to the little light inside the squalid room. She saw a fingerprint on the hilt. Also on the table were little metal models of figures that reminded her of the monsters and demons of scary children’s programmes. There was a vial of liquid and what looked like a wand.

Then she saw the pentacle. It was on a piece of leather, and it was about two inches across. A book lay closed next to it. She picked it up and opened it. She didn’t really understand what she was reading, but they appeared to her like chants, songs or poems. They were accompanied by ghastly drawings of violence and destruction, formed by a deranged mind. She sighed and went back out of the room to inform the photographer of what to log and tag. She took off her plastic covers and gloves and went back outside. She’d need an army of forensics here and she called HQ to plead her case. She got what she wanted and spoke to the CSI to make sure they concurred about exactly how to process the site. It could be vital later in court.

She went back to her car to find Johnny sat in the same position, staring towards the fields.

‘I need to get a team up Lonscale Fell. You know it like the back of your hand, Johnny.’

‘I want to get back to Josie.’

‘I understand. Could you recommend someone as good as you?’

‘Only the whole team. I’ll see who’s on duty.’

Kelly noticed that the anger she’d seen earlier was wearing off and he was distant and lethargic.

‘Can I drop you at Callum’s?’

‘Yeah, that’s where my car is. Are you any nearer to catching this bastard?’

‘The person who I’ve been chasing is dead inside that farmhouse. It’s back to square one for us, but now we know, the leads will pour in. It won’t be long.’

‘What? Suicide?’

‘Definitely not, and I think they’ve taken his daughter. It’s a mess, these people don’t want to be found and they don’t live like we do: they don’t leave paper trails, internet footprints, bank details or…’ she thought of something.

‘What?’

‘The Tesco shop must have been paid for online.’