There was nothing untoward about the hallway. An attractive Afghan-style runner sat precisely in the middle of the floor. A console table held a bowl with keys and a vase of authentic-looking silk sweet peas. Photographs of glittering waves and frolicking dolphins lined one wall. Paula advanced cautiously. A door on the right opened on to a living room that looked as if it had been styled for a magazine feature. Some might say uncluttered; Paula thought sterile. On the face of it, nothing to interest them. But they would come back to it. No stone unturned. Just that some stones were definitely more promising than others.

Next off the hall, a dining room. Again, not much in the way of homely touches. The only personal item in the room was a large studio portrait of Taylor and two children hanging opposite the door. Neither child looked particularly happy to have Daddy’s hands heavy on their shoulders. Paula told herself off for projecting. Really, there wasn’t much you could tell from a photo.

At the end of the hallway an archway led into the kitchen. Paula caught her breath. At her shoulder, the lead CSI swore softly. ‘Arrogant twat clearly never expected to get nabbed,’ he said. ‘Look at this. There’s forensic traces bloody everywhere. Blood, fingerprints… There’s a clump of hair on the floor over there by the bin. And look at those metal eyes screwed into the door frame and the wall. First time I’ve ever seen a kitchen that looked more like a dungeon.’

Paula hung back while the CSIs placed metal trays across the floor to create a walkway that would preserve any evidence. This was the kind of result that was like a double-edged sword. As an investigator, it hit the jackpot. As a human being, it made her heart heavy. Now she could imagine what her friend had endured and it was a horrible thought. While she waited, she directed the other CID officers upstairs. ‘Take a quick look around,’ she said. ‘Just an Open Door search to make sure Marie Mather isn’t on the premises.

‘Does that door lead to the garage?’ she asked, pointing to the frame where the metal eye was fastened.

The CSI glanced out of the window, orientating himself. ‘Looks like it. You want to take a look?’

‘We’ve still got a missing woman, so yes. Soon as you like.’

The final chequered plates were laid down, providing a route to the door. The lead CSI opened it with a flourish and Paula crossed the threshold. At first glance, it was a regular suburban garage. Tools and garden equipment, all hung up neatly in their allotted spaces. A workbench and a stack of folding garden chairs. A chest freezer.