‘You were?’

‘Yes, I … I thought I might show you some of the sketches I did. From the book you gave me? You said you wanted to see them.’ Ben had dumped his school bag on one of the gravestones when he’d first arrived in the clearing, and he picked it up and started rummaging inside. But before he could find his sketchbook, the chaplain frowned again and peered over Ben’s shoulder.

‘What’s that?’

‘What?’ said Ben, consciously not turning around. His heart was hammering in his chest.

‘That. On the floor over there, beside those stones.’

Ben had no choice but to look where Father Steiner was pointing.

‘Did you drop something?’ the chaplain asked him.

Realising what Father Steiner had spotted, Ben’s eyes widened in horror. The photographs. He’d left them piled on one of the slabs.

Before Father Steiner could take another step, Ben rushed to gather them up. ‘Oh, right, thanks.’ He stuffed the photographs in his pocket. ‘My timetable,’ he explained, patting the seat of his trousers. ‘I can never seem to commit it to memory.’

Father Steiner continued to frown. Was he close enough that he’d been able to make out the image in the topmost photograph? Or had something else caught his eye among the stones?

‘Father Steiner?’ Ben said, stepping into the chaplain’s eyeline. He’d pulled his sketchbook from his bag.

Father Steiner’s gaze flicked back to Ben.

‘Did you want to take a look?’

The chaplain seemed to hesitate for a moment, then hoisted a smile. ‘It would be a privilege,’ he said.

Ben started to open the sketchbook, then had a better idea. ‘Would you mind if I showed you in the chapel? If there is somebody else around, I … I’d rather they didn’t see.’

The chaplain laid a hand on Ben’s shoulder. ‘Of course. I understand completely.’

They started to move off together, along the path Father Steiner had arrived by. The chaplain kept his hand on Ben’s shoulder the entire way, his grip only tightening once – when he paused at the edge of the clearing and looked back towards the entrance of the crypt.

Sunday 27 October, 8.37 a.m.

Back at the station, Fleet stood beside DC Bevan as they watched the chaplain pace the perimeter of the interview room.

‘Did he give you any trouble?’ Fleet adjusted the angle of the monitor slightly to reduce the glare from the sunlight that was cutting through the blinds.