It was of the two young women who’d uploaded a video of themselves at Laurie Fell on Sunday night.

‘I need to keep this,’ she said.

‘Go ahead. Keep it in the bag, though,’ the officer said. ‘I’d better get on, this is an all-nighter.’

‘Of course,’ Kelly said, folding the image inside the clear bag. She rang Kate and asked her how she was getting on with the social media hunt for the two young women, and told her about the Polaroid.

‘I’m just on it now. I should have full names and addresses for you soon, their privacy settings are shocking – oh and by the way,’ Kate said.

‘Yes?’

‘They’re fifteen years old and go to the school where Nellie Lowther used to teach.’

Kelly was beginning to understand why Elaine Reilly might not want her husband’s name associated with this place, and why the Kennedy-Craigs were being hauled over the coals in the press. It might also give her a motive for why somebody might want both of them dead.

‘That’s not all,’ Kate said.

‘Go on,’ Kelly said.

‘A boat was stolen from Pooley Bridge jetty on Sunday night. I’ve requested their CCTV and they’re sending it over.’

Chapter 41

Kate packed up her things to leave for the evening. She’d called the parents of the two schoolgirls who’d uploaded a video of themselves at Laurie Fell. Neither had answered, and she’d left messages. It was imperative that make contact with them. Kate had looked at the images over and over again, unbelieving and horrified. As the mother of young women, Kate had a terrible feeling in her gut. Lord Reilly was in his sixties, and Bartholomew Kennedy-Craig in his fifties. There weren’t many plausible reasons why two overdressed and made-up fifteen-year-old girls would have got an invitation to spend the evening with them.

Given what Kelly had been shown at the mansion – the Polaroids and the gear that had been found – Kate couldn’t help feeling, and Kelly agreed with her, that there might be more than sensationalism to the story in the press about the type of parties Kennedy-Craig enjoyed. She’d found the two girls easily online, from their profiles on Snapchat. They both attended the same school in Keswick, and their ages had come as a shock. Kate had also looked at their Instagram pages and found that they had thousands of followers, and it wasn’t difficult to see why. Their uploads were heavy on the selfies and parties, like all teenagers. She should know, especially because her youngest was still in the grips of the obsession with appearance, and the insecurity-driven half-naked selfies, figure-hugging dresses, underwear and boob shots. It was a constant battle trying to get her to tone it down and understand that whatever she posted online would stay in the ether forever, and could never be taken down.