‘I brought you this,’ she holds it out to Fran, her expression neutral, and I realise that Fran is probably right, she must have heard everything Fran just said from the other side of the door. Fran takes the mug without a word, as I sit there, dumb.

‘DS Wright is here,’ Kelly turns back as she reaches the door. ‘She wants to see you.’

Fran and I file downstairs in Kelly’s wake, and I’m guessing that Fran feels as anxious as I do. Have they found something? More importantly, have they found Laurel? I find my hands are shaking as I follow Fran into the sitting room and perch awkwardly on the edge of the armchair.

‘What is it?’ Fran’s voice is urgent, her hands folding together over and over in a wringing motion. Despite their row, Dominic moves closer to her, putting his arm around her shoulder.

‘We don’t have any further information for you – we haven’t found Laurel yet. I should make that clear before we start. I’d like to request your permission to remove some of Laurel’s belongings from the house, only for a short while,’ DS Wright says in a low voice, before dabbing at her forehead with the back of her hand. It is abnormally warm in here. ‘We need a toothbrush, hairbrush, something that contains Laurel’s DNA – do you have something like that?’

‘Yes,’ Dominic says, after Fran just stares at her for a moment, seemingly unable to speak. ‘Yes, her hairbrush is upstairs, but why? If you’re telling us that you haven’t found Laurel yet, why do you need her DNA?’

DS Wright is silent for a moment as if gathering her thoughts together, and I realise that she doesn’t want to convey what she has to tell us. She’s awkward, uncomfortable, a tense vibe filling the air and all of a sudden, I remember that feeling from before – that cold, sick sense of dread that fingered its way up my spine, as I heard the thud, then the deafening silence, punctuated with all that blood, a deep crimson stain spreading out across the cold, grey floor. I take a deep breath, willing the dizziness to leave me before I need to put my head between my knees.

‘There are a number of footprints in the mud surrounding the lake area at the back of the field where the event was held last Saturday. These might be old – I have someone out there casting whatever prints they can – but it does seem as though there has been some activity in that area. So, with that in mind . . .’ she trails off for a second and I tuck my shaking hands under my thighs out of sight, ‘we’re going to dredge the lake.’

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 9