Yet again I pretended not to hear Winter when he shouted that we could walk from here and nudged the bike upwards. I was going to use horsepower to get as close as we possibly could. I kept going upwards, stopping only when I was forced to.

‘What the hell?’ Winter ground out when I turned off the engine and he slipped off the back.

‘There’s too much mud. The wheels are spinning.’

He peered at me through the darkness. ‘That was not what I meant and you know it. You drive like a demon, Ivy.’

‘Thank you.’

Winter growled, ‘You should have left the bike at the bottom of the hill.’

I blinked. ‘But then we’d have had to walk all the way.’

‘Now the bike is all dirty.’

‘So wash it when we get back.’ Preferably while wearing a white T-shirt, which would quickly get soaked, and when I was watching from a comfortable vantage point. I patted him on the arm. ‘Come on. I think it’s this way.’

‘Then let’s get going.’ With his usual gait, Winter took off at a tremendous speed, scaling the hill as if it were nothing more than a gentle incline. I followed after him, my determination to get this over and done dissipating in the face of the immediate ache in my calves.

‘Slow down,’ I called to Winter.

His response was immediate. ‘I can’t hear you!’

Ha. Ha. Ha. I gritted my teeth and ploughed upwards. Who the hell murdered someone up a mountain? It would have been far more convenient to use the cemetery – at least then it would have been a one-stop shop.

Huffing and puffing, I glanced back down. With the gravestones just visible in the moonlight, it looked more picturesque than creepy. ‘It can’t,’ I heaved, ‘be a coincidence,’ I paused again for breath, ‘that the murder took,’ I gasped, ‘here.’

Winter finally stopped and turned. ‘What on earth is wrong with you?’

I doubled over and tried to bring more air into my lungs.

He snorted. ‘If you went to the gym…’

My bottom lip curled. ‘Yeah, yeah.’ I straightened up. ‘The locals call this place Dead Man’s Hill. It’s probably got nothing to do with the graveyard and everything to do with the fact that you feel like a dead man when you climb it. In any case, it can’t be a coincidence. This spot is poetically apt.’

‘So you think our murderer is a local?’

‘Not necessarily. But I bet it’s someone with local knowledge.’

‘I think that’s a given.’

I clutched my chest. Winter peered at me. ‘Are you having a heart attack now?’

‘I might be. I’m just so shocked that you agree with me.’

His eyes fixed on mine, their brilliant blue piercing, despite the darkness. ‘Stranger things have happened.’ He held out his hand. ‘I’ll help you up the rest of the way.’

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I gladly accepted his help. His hand was warm and firm and, as we walked further up the hill avoiding the odd rabbit hole and clods of random turf, I couldn’t shake the delicious shiver that was running down my spine. ‘What kind of moisturiser do you use?’