‘But …’

‘We’ll talk again soon, I promise.’

Jamie pressed back against his mother. ‘K.’

‘Constable Murphy, please follow the ambulance and take Jamie’s and Mr and Mrs Taylor’s statements at the hospital.’

Murphy nodded.

‘Ms Kelly will accompany you to provide support.’

*

By half past nine, a small convoy was en route to the hospital. Jamie waved to Jake through the back window of the ambulance as it pulled away.

Uncomfortably aware that his clothes were saturated by the moisture in the air, Jake looked forward to a hot shower at the station. The electricity still wasn’t connected to his cottage despite daily wrangling with the power company. But warming up would have to wait.

Jake returned to his car, relieved he’d been able to convince the others to leave so he could search the vineyard by himself without argument or distraction.

After checking the map on his phone, he drove a short distance back toward town then took a dead-end side road. He parked on a weedy lap of gravel in front of the entrance leading up to the front of the sandstone manor, not eager to risk opening the rusty gates. They were as dilapidated as the building that peeked through the rambling gardens at the top of the driveway.

This time, he grabbed a jacket from the boot of his car before ambling down a rocky slope to the left of the manor and into the vineyard. A lowing cow droned in the distance, reminding Jake of a morning alarm someone had failed to switch off.

As he walked, he glanced east toward the still obscured mountain range. His fingers and toes itched to search the concealed rock surfaces for holds that would allow him to scale the range’s cliffs; all frustrations would melt away as he lost himself in the challenge of the climb.

Uncertain of where he’d located Jamie from this angle, Jake began to search for signs of recent footsteps in the marshy ground. Fifteen minutes of wandering the lanes between the vines and he was no closer to finding where he had been, but he was significantly colder. Perhaps Jamie had imagined a body after all.

Turning to trudge back to his car, a strangely-shaped lump on the ground one row over caught his eye. He ducked through the vines, twigs scraping at his jacket, leant over the mound and exhaled heavily.

It looked as though the old woman had been tumbled on to the ground from standing height there were no signs of her being laid out with any care. The dark grey robe wrapped around her was three or four sizes too big, drowning her in rough, abrasive wool. Her bare feet were a crazed map of veins and broken capillaries, her toenails blackened.

Donning a glove from his jacket pocket, Jake checked for a pulse. Nothing. Her body was cool, not cold, and her limbs pliable. She couldn’t have been dead for more than three or four hours.