At least he was lucid. And he hadn’t lost his sense of humour, despite being moments away from a very horrible and slow death. He must have known for long minutes what his attacker was going to do. She was disappointed that it wasn’t tidy, and that all leads brought them to Kirk Junker, but it was just another challenge to overcome and work out.

‘We found the bodies of Kirk Junker and, we think, his wife, at a property registered to Harry O’Conner this afternoon, Jock.’

‘I know. I was there.’

‘What?’

‘Daphne called me. She told me where they were. I went to see her.’

‘Without informing us? That was reckless!’

‘Thanks for letting me know, it was none of your business. It was personal. I went to see Kirk to set a few things straight.’

‘Knowing he was our prime suspect! That’s perverting the course of justice and withholding key information. Wait a minute, you went there? So, you saw Kirk?’

‘Yes.’

‘Dead?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you know who killed him?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who?’

‘His daughter.’

Kelly laughed. ‘Daphne? Don’t be ridiculous!’

Jock held her gaze and a creeping feeling settled in the back of her throat.

‘She tried to kill me too, and I was about to let her. Her plan to punish me was interrupted.’

‘The young man with the baseball cap?’

‘That was Daphne.’

‘Jock, you’re over two hundred and twenty pounds at my best guess, Daphne is barely a hundred.’

‘It doesn’t matter. Kirk was getting old. I am old. Gloria wouldn’t say boo to a goose. And the others, well, all you need is some brains and the element of surprise.’

‘The others?’

‘Haven’t you worked it out yet?’

Kelly stared at Jock and images, bodies, details, plans, weapons, and ceremonies jumped into her mind. This girl had been raised around Pagan rituals all her life: sacrifice, punishment, good, evil, dark, and light. She remembered what Kate had told her about the laptop.

It dawned on Kelly that Daphne had likely been talking to The Teacher all this time. She was a protégé. A vulnerable, innocent, perfect protégé, full of anger, hatred and rage. Perfect to be manipulated and moulded. The pentagram was complete after all: Daphne’s spirit was the last point of the star: it was her own sacrifice.

Her brain whirred and she worked out that if Kirk and his wife had been dead for a little over a week, then it was feasible that Daphne had taken herself to Castlerigg to cleanse herself the evening she killed her parents. If she killed her parents. She was getting ahead of herself and losing the precariously tiny shaft of delineation between fact and fantasy. She had no direct evidence, just Jock’s testimony.

‘Why should I believe you?’