With rain threatening to set in after midday, Jake determined that the most effective way to preserve any biological evidence on Ava O’Brien’s body was to transport her to the morgue.

Though nothing was obvious to the naked eye, Jake also retrieved samples of the surrounding decaying vegetation and soil. As a precaution, he reminded Murphy not to mention any details of what they had found to anyone outside of official proceedings. A simple lapse in procedure could tip off a perpetrator or invalidate an entire case.

There were no signs that Ava had walked here on her own nor been dragged. A thorough scan of the boggy ground surrounding her body revealed only four potential sets of footprints—Jake’s, Murphy’s, Jamie Taylor’s, and presumably those of the person who had carried her here. From the size and depth of the boot prints, the person was of a reasonable size and heft, even accounting for Ava’s weight. Jake ensured Murphy photographed and labelled every aspect of the prints.

Once the paramedics had arrived, Jake instructed them to carefully strap Ms O’Brien to the gurney before they started the arduous journey uphill. Their ambulance awaited at the rusty front gate alongside Jake’s and Murphy’s vehicles.

As they began their unenviable haul up the slope, leaving a trail of crushed and oozing grass in their wake, Jake noticed Evelyn Kelly marching towards them through the gloom. She somehow managed to block the stretcher’s progress, forcing the struggling paramedics to halt until she had passed. Jake moved to intercept her before she entered the scene proper.

‘Ms Kelly …’ Jake began.

‘Who’s under the sheet?’

Where did this woman get off behaving like this? ‘Ms Kelly …’

‘Evelyn.’

‘Why are you here? I didn’t call for you.’

‘Your boss—Senior Sergeant Kelly—did. He told me a body had been found near Mason Campbell’s house and that I might be needed. So, who’s under the sheet? I can see they’re too small to be Mason.’

Jake glanced at Murphy who shot him a ‘leave me out of this’ look.

‘This is a crime scene, Ms Kelly. You’re to go no further into the vineyard.’

‘But …’

‘It’s far too early for anyone to be calling Victim Services. No contact has been made with the deceased’s family.’

‘If it’s not Mason, who is it? Another camper?’

‘Ms Kelly’—Jake pointed toward the manor house—‘off my crime scene.’

He caught sight of Murphy shaking his head out of the corner of his eye. ‘Pack up the forensics kit and meet me at the house,’ he said to the smirking constable.

‘Sure thing, boss,’ Murphy delivered in a mock-American drawl.

Water splashed Jake’s face. It had started to spit. Perfect.

He took a deep breath as he strolled up the hill beside Ms Kelly. She was the boss’s daughter, so it wouldn’t be a great idea to get on her bad side in less than a week.

‘So, how’d things go with the Taylors?’

‘They’re fine,’ she huffed. ‘Why won’t you tell me whose body you found?’