‘Hey, look at these.’

I turn. Maddie sits on the edge of the bed, Ruth’s bedside cabinet open beside her.

‘What are you doing? You won’t find Elise in there.’ I’m cross she’s invading the dead woman’s privacy, but I admit I’m curious about the photo album she’s looking through with the aid of her phone torch. ‘And I thought you’d turned that off to save the battery.’

I sit down beside her, and look over her shoulder, as she goes back to the beginning. The photos on the first page are of a young and beautiful Ruth, holding a baby in a lemon blanket.

‘It’s Finn, I should think,’ I say.

Maddie turns the page. What follows are photos of a pretty blonde girl, a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. She grows as Maddie turns the pages. The final image in the album is of the girl at about fifteen years old.

‘A friend’s daughter, maybe?’ But a spark of memory invades of Finn mentioning last time I was here that he’d had a sister who’d died. I rise. ‘Put the album back, Maddie. This isn’t finding Elise. And please turn off your phone to conserve the battery.’

We head out into the cold once more, closing the conservatory door behind us, and make our way up towards the main gate. It feels as though we’ve been walking for miles, and I stop for a moment to catch my breath, my whole body aching.

‘Still no signal,’ I say, looking at my phone screen as she stomps on ahead of me.

The gate is still another fifty yards away, and I’m not sure I can make it.

Maddie peers at me over her shoulder. ‘You OK, Amelia?’

I’m not. My legs below the knee seem to have turned to jelly and suddenly collapse from under me. I smash knee-first into the snow, and sink into the cold.

‘Oh God!’ Maddie hurries back to me, and attempts to lift me from behind, her hands under my arms, her fingers pushing into the fabric of my jacket. ‘We’re never going to get a signal,’ she says, making little progress in hauling me up. ‘We should get back to the cottage.’

‘Hang on!’ I cry. ‘Just give me a minute.’ She releases me, and I fall back down. After several deep breaths, I attempt to rub life back into my legs.

‘Who’s that?’ There’s a tremble in Maddie’s voice, as she stares across the snow towards the forest.

I look to where she’s pointing. Someone is standing there, partly shielded by trees.

‘It could be the killer.’ She’s stepping backwards, away from me – away from the figure.