I remembered the very first crime scene I had been called out to, after I’d qualified. A burglary at a house, nothing particularly unusual apart from the large volume of jewellery, cash and electronics taken by burglars who had not left a single forensic trace. No fingerprints, no footprints, no DNA. It had been a scrupulous job. It had also been totally bogus: the homeowner, a CSI Miami fan angling for an insurance payout, exposed months later when his pictures of a ‘stolen’ Rolex were found to have been taken after the burglary had supposedly taken place.

At the time, though, as a green-as-grass newbie with only a week in the job, I had been completely taken in. And the question hung over me now: had I been taken in again?

I thought back to my conversation with Izzy in the dining room, only a couple of hours ago. What had she said? What had she actually said?

This is tough, Kate, but I’ve given it a lot of thought and I know it’s the right thing to do under the circumstances.

I don’t know how to say this. I’ve agonised over whether to tell you about—

I didn’t realise on Tuesday that—

Didn’t realise what? I had assumed at the time that meant she hadn’t realised I was on to her, that I already knew Sean had betrayed me. But maybe I had jumped to the wrong conclusion.

Outside, the thunder was getting closer. Something clicked in my head and finally, finally, I thought I might be starting to understand.

Chapter 75

75

I studied my friends on the sofa opposite. Rowan comforting her daughter, jigging her gently on her knee. Russ, slapping a pack of Marlboros into the palm of his hand, looking as if he’d like to continue the shouting match. Jennifer, close to tears again, spots of colour high in her cheeks.

‘Jen,’ I said, ‘why did you send the kids away?’

‘What?’

‘Ten minutes ago. You sent the other four kids downstairs to the games room.’

She shrugged, distracted.

‘I thought there were things they probably shouldn’t hear.’ She threw a pointed look at Rowan. ‘And I’m mighty glad I did, now.’

‘Anything else?’

‘It’s so tough for teenagers to process grief. It’s a new experience for them, I didn’t want them getting any more upset than they already are. They’re devastated, trying to deal with what’s happened. And . . .’ She hesitated. ‘I guess I didn’t want to embarrass you.’

‘I get all that, and I appreciate it.’ It was my turn to hesitate. ‘But what was the other reason?’

‘Other reason for what?’

‘Separating the kids from this conversation.’

‘Not sure I follow you.’

‘What I mean is, what has all of this got to do with the kids?’

She shrugged.

‘Nothing. Apart from them being here this week, with all of us.’