‘Of course it is,’ said Kessen. ‘It means she had a close enough relationship with someone for that person to hate her. To hate her enough to kill her. That’s not some casual passer-by that she once said hello to in the street. There’s a history between them.’

‘But as far as this house is concerned, the victim seems to be a woman without a history. Without a life almost.’

‘Look, if there’s no evidence of Rose Shepherd’s past in this house, it means only one thing – that she had a past she was trying very hard to hide.’

Fry touched Cooper’s arm.

‘Ben, have you got your car here?’

‘Sure.’

‘Give me a lift down the road, then. I had to leave mine miles away.’

‘No problem.’

Fry brushed some cobwebs off her jacket. ‘This house is dirty, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, I noticed that. Have you seen the décor in the sitting room, though?’

‘That charcoal grey? Yes, very minimalist.’

Cooper stopped in the doorway to take a last look at Bain House before he left. Was the house dusty because Miss Shepherd couldn’t be bothered with housework, or because she’d never been used to doing her own cleaning? Or might there be another reason?

On an impulse, he crouched towards the floor and looked into the sunlight flooding the pine boards. A layer of dust showed up clearly, glittering in the light from the windows. It would be possible to tell immediately if anyone had walked across this patch of floor. Their footprints would be visible in the dust. Perhaps that was why it had been left undisturbed.

Abbott’s lamping theory was an interesting one. When a rabbit was caught in the lamper’s beam, it was mesmerized by the light and seemed to forget to run away. Yes, Cooper had seen it happen. He could picture the unnatural stillness of the animal, its eyes reflecting light like two glass beads, stunned by the sudden glare when it thought it was safe in the darkness.

Fry was waiting outside for him, no doubt getting impatient. But for a moment, Cooper thought about Rose Shepherd, shot down at her bedroom window as she stood in her nightdress and slippers. She must have been an easy target in a sniper’s sights, silhouetted against the light. It was impossible not to picture her frozen to the spot, waiting for the bullet to strike.

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

‘Nice barn conversion,’ said Cooper. ‘Somebody’s done a good job of it. Probably worth a bit of money, wouldn’t you say?’

‘More than I’ll ever see.’