‘Well, all right.’ As I stood back to let them in, Brandy came padding in to investigate, and I thought about what might happen to her if they took me away. The emergency folder was in the locked bottom drawer of my desk, explaining what to do with the house and Brandy and my things, who to contact. The key was in a vase on the mantelpiece. If the worst came to the worst, I would tell someone where to find it – Marilyn, most likely. It had always been a risk, keeping the folder in the house, with the information it contained, but I couldn’t bear to think of no one knowing the truth, no one on the outside fighting for me. We weren’t there yet. This was just questions. I stroked Brandy and gently edged her back into the kitchen – she gave a small whine, as if she knew something was up. I shut the door on her, feeling guilty at her surprise. Then I obediently followed the officers over to the sofa, sat down at right angles to them in the armchair, hands laid lightly on my knees.

The woman officer took out her notebook and flicked through it. I found it impossible to read them, if they suspected me or this was just routine or what. ‘So, we’re PC Darcy Chevening and PC Sam Price. Your name is Rachel Caldwell?’

‘Yes.’ Legally, it was true.

‘And what do you do, Rachel?’ PC Price, who had spots along the line of his collar. Last time, the police officers had seemed so many years my senior. Time had moved on.

‘I work at the dog shelter outside town.’ Not for pay, but they didn’t need to know that. ‘I’ve been there about ten years.’

‘And before that?’

‘Um – I was born in London. Moved around for a few years, then here.’

‘You have family in the area?’

‘No. It was just me and Mum and she passed years back.’ Poor Jenna. Never much of a mother to me, but all the same the fact of her death could catch me unawares at times like this, a small punch to the solar plexus.

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Perfunctory. Making notes. ‘Talk us through your morning walk, Rachel.’ PC Chevening again.

‘Um – I left about a quarter past seven, that’s when Brandy starts getting restless, and we went on our normal route. A quick turn is all, I take her later for longer.’

‘Brandy is a beagle?’ PC Price, glancing over at the kitchen.

‘Yes.’

‘They need walking a lot? And they have a good sense of smell?’

‘They’ll follow their noses anywhere.’ As I said it I remembered the pull on the lead, her slight whine as we entered the clearing. It was our usual path, so I didn’t think anything of it.

‘So she would pick up on a strange scent – like, say, a body?’

There it was.