‘Morning, Jumbo,’ Tom said. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here, but I’m delighted you are.’

‘It’s not usually my patch, that’s true. I’m covering for Saul Newton, but glad to help. The first officers on the scene assumed it was an overdose or death from exposure. But I’m not sure that’s the right call. That’s why I’m pleased to see you and Becky.’

Tom nodded. Jumbo was an excellent crime-scene manager – the best – and if he thought something was up, Tom believed him. He also knew Jumbo wouldn’t divulge his suspicions until Tom had formed his own opinion. Signalling Becky and Lynsey to follow, Tom moved into the confined space.

He stopped and took in the scene. Daylight spilled into the hide through a wide viewing window, but the floor was in deep shadow. In spite of that, he could clearly see the body of a young woman at the far end, sitting on the ground propped up against the wooden slats of the hide wall, her face peaceful, her eyes closed. A bitterly cold wind was blowing through the unglazed opening, and Tom crouched down on a level with the woman’s face. She looked to be in her early thirties, small and slim, and her clothes – while not stylish for someone of her age – didn’t look either old or tatty. She certainly didn’t have the appearance of someone living rough who might have taken shelter in the hide from the icy weather.

No matter how many dead bodies he saw, Tom always felt a stab of sorrow that a life had ended, especially when the deceased was so young, and he paused for a moment before pulling a torch from his pocket to flick its beam over the woman. There was no sign of trauma – no blood that he could see – and her hands were placed neatly in her lap with no obvious signs of a struggle. It looked to all the world as if she had wandered in, sat down, closed her eyes and died. There was only one point arguing against that: she wasn’t wearing any shoes.

Her feet were stretched out in front of her, and Tom could see that the soles were dirty but the tops weren’t. It didn’t look as if she habitually walked outdoors without shoes; the skin appeared too soft for that. She had no bag and was wearing nothing more than a long cardigan over a pair of jeans a couple of sizes too large. Tom wondered if maybe she had lost weight recently – maybe been ill – or whether the clothes belonged to someone else.

What had happened to this poor woman?

‘Boss,’ Becky said, interrupting his thoughts. ‘Do you need me to call the Home Office pathologist? I could have a word with the man who found her too?’