Charlie didn’t reply, and Georgie didn’t press it. They examined each room methodically but it was the same story – dust, grime, frail furniture and bird shit. Upstairs was equally uninspiring. The master bedroom featured a blackened mattress that looked like something out of a horror film but, other than some curious scorch marks on the walls, nothing of any apparent significance.

‘Clear your mind,’ Priest advised. ‘Don’t look for clues, don’t look for evidence. Look for anomalies. Anomalies can become clues and clues can become evidence. In that order only. Work it like a crime scene, from left to right.’

She was tense, the stillness of the house was oppressive, but she was determined not to let her anxiety show. ‘That’s how you do mazes: working along the left wall, you always eventually get to the middle.’

‘Same principle here, Someday.’

Georgie agreed. She knew that while she had trained in the law she had only been properly taught about evidence and investigation when she joined Priest & Co. At university, they taught you it was all about the law. In the real world, it was almost always all about the evidence.

After an hour or so, they reconvened in the hallway.

‘It’s just an empty house,’ Georgie said, disappointed. ‘The only thing of interest is the furniture they left behind.’

‘Mm. Is it?’ Charlie was distracted, feeling the underside of the pinewood desk that sat askew next to the lounge entrance.

Georgie shrugged. ‘Yes. It is.’

She turned away, towards the front door. Light was filtering through the broken window, offering only partial illumination. The gulls were louder now, circling excitedly outside. She wondered how long it would be before sunset. She bit her lip. Whether Charlie was with her or not, this was not a house that she wanted to be in when it was dark – it had a fetid feel to it. Like it was alive. A sleeping giant on a hill, waiting for the sun to go down before it woke.

Shivering, she kicked a bundle of twigs and feathers – residue from one of the abandoned nests – and watched as one of the feathers took flight and was abruptly caught in a draught. It twisted and keeled in the air, swept along in an invisible current all the way to the front door.

Curious, she nudged another feather in the same direction with identical results. She bent down and traced the conduit of air back through the hallway opposite to where Charlie was fiddling with the desk, letting the draught flutter against her hand. She stopped when she reached a dust-ridden Welsh dresser.

‘We need to move this,’ she said, putting her shoulder against the dresser.

‘What? Why?’

‘Just help me.’

Charlie pulled the dresser sideways, taking Georgie, on the other side, with it. She scrambled to regain her footing before they examined the space left behind.

‘I wonder where that goes,’ Charlie mumbled.