‘Sustained work. It started in the garden and then ended in there. They fought in the kitchen – as you saw as we went past – there’s shit everywhere.’

‘It doesn’t strike me as the tidiest of houses.’ Kelly wondered where the mess stopped and the murder began. ‘Overkill suggests she knew her attacker. Only one, you think?’ Kelly asked.

‘We’ve only photographed one set of footprints found smeared in the blood in the kitchen area. It looks like a common wellington boot.’

‘I see what you mean by work.’

‘It’s methodical. Clinical. Planned. Despite the mess.’

‘Except the final blows: they were out of control.’

‘Agreed.’

‘Thanks. I’ll walk around. Do we have a name?’

‘Mary Hales. Fifty-nine. Lived here a long time according to neighbours.’ The CSI left her and carried on logging the scene on his iPad. CSI was done along the lines of CAD kitchen design nowadays, and it struck Kelly as disturbingly businesslike. For her part, she’d never be able to give up just standing there, in the middle of the carnage, watching, absorbing and imagining what went on. She faced the back of the garden and looked towards the destroyed animal shelters. The wooden structures still smoked. When animals were hurt in a crime, they called a local trusted vet to clear up. Animal carcasses were autopsied just the same as humans and their remains could throw up a whole story of evidence.

Temporary spotlights illuminated the garden, and Kelly imagined the intruder entering from the field beyond, which backed on to the forest. She walked to the end of the garden, peering over the fence. There was a track. It was big enough for a small car or van. She climbed over the fence and walked along the trail to see where it went. After about twenty metres, it turned a corner and emerged on to a bigger dirt track that lead to the main road through Braithwaite. Walking back, she shone a torch to the ground and spotted several vehicle tyre marks. They’d all need to be filed and processed.