He pushed at the door with the back of his hand. It took a second for my brain to click as to why. No fingerprints. He stepped into the hall; I was right behind him. He cast me an irritated look, but I wasn’t going anywhere. Tobey went into the first room on the right, a sitting room with pale yellow walls, a mid-grey carpet and two cream leather sofas placed in an L-shape. Against the far wall was the biggest flatscreen TV I’d seen outside a cinema. A quick look around, then back out into the hall. The next room on the right was a dining room. Cream-coloured walls, the same grey carpet and a large french-polished wooden table that seated ten people with ease. Shane Stoats was clearly doing all right for himself. Back into the hall and through to the kitchen. Tobey had only taken one step when he froze. I only just avoided walking into his back. Looking round him, I saw the body at once. A Nought guy lay on the floor, his unseeing eyes open and staring up at the ceiling. Dried blood decorated his lips like clown’s make-up. A large burgundy stain covered one shoulder of his sky-blue shirt. In the middle of his forehead was a bullet hole, a pool of blood beneath his head. Nauseous, I turned from the sight, eyes closed.

Do not throw up, Callie Rose. Don’t you dare!

I didn’t want another look and yet my eyes were drawn back to the body on the floor. All the photos and videos of dead bodies I’d seen over my career, yet nothing had prepared me for the sight of a real one. There was something so still, so final-page about death. I kept swallowing, determined not to throw up, though my stomach was heaving.

‘Callie, have you touched anything since we came in this house?’

I couldn’t answer. I just kept staring at the body until Tobey took me by the shoulders, placing himself between me and the dead man. He repeated his question.

‘No. No, I didn’t,’ I said.

‘We need to leave. Now.’

‘Shouldn’t we phone the police? We can’t just leave him like that.’

‘Callie, we can and we must. D’you want to spend the next few hours answering questions and writing statements? Hours that could be spent looking for Libby and Troy?’

My silence reluctantly conceded that he had a point. Tobey ushered me out of the house. Using his foot, he eased the door till it was almost shut, leaving it as we’d found it.

‘Was that … was that Shane Stoats?’

‘Yes, it was,’ said Tobey grimly. ‘Someone beat us to him. Let’s get out of here.’