‘This is the best I could do,’ Kirsty said. ‘There was a tyre track and a partial footprint, which to me indicated someone stepping off the bike, very close to where the body was found.’ She knelt down, and with a gloved hand brushed the top of the snow mound away, revealing a large pizza box.

‘Was this here?’ Gillard asked.

‘No. I found it in the bushes. But with the snow melting so fast, I needed something really well insulated. One of the dog owners grabbed a plasticised notice from the board over there, which was stiff enough to enable me to slide under and lift the whole section of snow into the box. I’ve no idea if it’s retained all the details, but it was the best I could manage under the circumstances.’

‘It’s ingenious,’ Gillard said. ‘I’m impressed.’ He could see that the box lid had been domed, to avoid touching the thick layer of snow within. ‘I’ll not open the lid, but I’ll rest it on the sack of ice until we can get it into somebody’s deep-freeze,’ he said.

‘There is a ranger’s house at the top of the hill,’ said the male dog walker, who was still keeping hold both of his own labrador and the boxer.

‘Has anyone been to the body?’ Gillard asked.

‘No. I thought—’

‘But you are absolutely sure she is dead?’ The question had a scaffolding of blame already built into it.

Kirsty nodded. ‘Her skull is… smashed. It was a savage attack.’ Her own voice seemed high, piping and wholly unconvincing. Gillard made his way over to the victim and knelt. He briefly lifted the edge of the translucent plastic bag, and confirmed what Kirsty had said.

The sound of the ambulance cut across the snowy fields behind them, and with it was a police patrol car. They made their way down the slushy grass towards them.

Kirsty watched as Gillard rapidly briefed the arriving officers and passed across the pizza box and the ice sack on which it was resting. A white police tent was brought from the boot of the patrol car, and two uniformed constables began to screen off the scene of the attack with blue and white tape.

Gillard then turned back to Kirsty. He seemed particularly interested in the cyclist whom Kirsty had described almost knocking her down. ‘Well, we’re still in the golden hour, which I’m sure you remember from your training.’

Kirsty nodded: ‘The first hour after a crime gives the best chance for a quick result.’

‘Particularly now, with all this,’ he said, indicating the slushy coating on the grass.

The detective chief inspector made a couple of quick calls asking for assistance at all exits to the common, particularly looking for bicycle tyre tracks made since the snowfall. Leaving the two newly arrived uniformed officers in charge of the crime scene, Gillard suggested that they both follow the tracks left by the cyclist. ‘You look like you’re kitted out for a run, so shall we?’