Following him inside, I looked around at the bare wood of the floorboards and the panelled walls. The building was fairly basic, with one long main room, then two changing areas off to the right-hand side. Singh wandered through to check these areas, but I knew he wasn’t looking for anything in particular. He’d be letting his brain process his ideas while he looked, then focus his attention on the areas that he felt mattered when he’d had that time to mull things over.

Not wanting to disturb his train of thought, I stayed by the door until he was back in the main room. Plastic chairs and folding tables with chipped veneer surfaces were stacked along the back wall, dust gathering on them. It was hardly the season for cricket, and I doubted this building was hired out for events in the way larger cricket clubs might be used.

‘What am I missing?’ Singh’s voice startled me slightly; I hadn’t realised he was standing right next to me.

‘Why do you think there’s something you’re missing?’ I asked, turning the question back round on him.

‘We know Leon left the cabin at some point during the night or the early hours of the morning, because he wasn’t there when the staff and students woke up at seven. We also know that Leon must have been in here, because the door had been opened and the snow outside was disturbed. No one else would have had that opportunity after the snow started other than Steve, and the few footprints we found were several sizes too small to be his. So, we need to know why Leon came here in the first place, and then why he left.’

‘Maybe he just wanted a bit of time to himself, then realised it was freezing and this was the nearest place to shelter without going back with his tail between his legs?’ I suggested.

Singh nodded slowly. ‘That’s possible. A fifteen-year-old boy would probably be too proud to go straight back if he was in a sulk about something. But if that was the case, why didn’t he stay here?’

I turned to look at the window at the end of the long room, and nodded towards it. Singh and I both approached the window and looked out. From there, we had a clear view of the little clearing in the trees where Sasha Thomas and I had found Steve Wilkinson’s body.

‘He saw his head teacher being killed,’ I murmured, taking a deep breath.

‘Possibly,’ Singh replied, tapping his fingers on the windowsill. ‘Or did he see Steve outside looking for him, then leave here in order to confront him?’

I couldn’t imagine what might drive a teenager to kill one of his teachers, but I didn’t contradict Singh. I knew the police had to consider all possible angles.