‘She might have stood a chance if she hadn’t been wearing those.’ The CSI pointed. Kelly shivered; she’d been on plenty of runs alone, wearing headphones, much to the annoyance of Johnny, who told her never to do so, no matter where she was.

She wouldn’t do it again.

She looked at the victim’s face. Her eyes were closed and she looked at peace, despite the carnage below. It looked as though she’d tried to get into the foetal position. The speed of the attack meant that the entry points of the blade were either expert or extremely lucky. Gang-style attacks usually aimed for just those areas, though the perps were rarely expert. Ted would be able to clarify it for her.

Knives. They were becoming endemic. Bravado made a lot of youngsters bold, and that was why so many of them died: they thought they could handle a knife fight. It was the biggest myth circulating around hormonally imbalanced boys needing a release for their passions in between shagging. Like general elections, knife fights weren’t won; they were lost. But this had been no fight.

She took a sketchpad out of her bag and began logging the scene in her own way. She didn’t use computer-aided technology at this stage because she wanted to remember the scene as she saw it. As she worked, she confirmed with the photographer that she’d got certain shots and angles.

She was interrupted by a phone call from the coroner. She left the tent and breathed fresh air, tucking her sketchpad under her arm.

It was before they’d gone to Florida that she’d first called him Dad. It had been a slip of the tongue, and had been out before she could help it. She’d been about to apologise, but Ted had stopped her, saying he liked it. At work, though, in her professional capacity, she addressed him formally. He was on speaker phone and informed her that he was parking his car. She removed the plastic gloves and shoe covers and walked along the path to where she could see the police perimeter. When she spotted him, she waved and went to meet him. She wanted to hug him but held back. He winked, knowing her well.

‘You’ve barely been back five minutes,’ he said.

‘Middle-aged woman, looks like a contract hit to me,’ she said. ‘No robbery: it was quick and clinical. It’s a bit too clean for a gang initiation, and there haven’t been any escalation indicators from known members round here. I checked.’