I see Ciara glance to Kathleen. There is panic on her face. Ciara never usually shows anything but cold coolness in her expression. That she is rattled makes me feel worse. I press my fingernails into the palm of my hand, hoping the sharpness will stop me from spiralling into a panic.

‘What is it, Officer?’ Kathleen asks, her voice thin and reedy. She is twisting her hands together, pulling the skin tight against her bones.

‘We have the preliminary results from the postmortem examination that took place this afternoon on Mr Joe McKee. These are, as I stated, preliminary results and we are awaiting further findings.’ He cleared his throat and continued. ‘It would appear from examination there is evidence to support the hypothesis that Mr McKee’s death may not have been natural or indeed accidental.’

Kathleen blinks. ‘What? Sorry? I don’t … Can you speak in plain English?’

‘What do you mean, not natural or accidental?’ Ciara asks, cutting across her aunt.

I just sit and try to take in how this has all shifted again. How Joe has become the victim for once.

‘There are early indications that Mr McKee, your father, died as a result of asphyxiation, most likely suffocation. There are further injuries on his body, which the pathologist believes are of a non-accidental nature.’

Ciara’s mouth hangs open. Her eyes are fixed uncomfortably on me before she staggers to her feet and gasps that she needs air.

DC Black is quick to stand, too, indicating to Kathleen that she should remain seated as he guides Ciara by the arm out into the hall, where the cold night air is whistling through the still open front door.

I hear muttering. Kathleen is blessing herself and whispering what I think are the prayers of the rosary. It’s hard to tell through the buzzing in my ears. Lily starts to fuss and Alex tries his hand at settling her, but I can see he is thrown, too.

‘What indications?’ I ask. ‘He looked very peaceful when Alex found him.’

And he had. When Alex had called us up, Joe had been lying in his bed as if he was merely asleep. One hand was under the covers and the other arm curled across his chest. He was flat on his back, his mouth just slightly open as if he were about to snore. His head turned just a fraction to the left. The bed was tidy. The room was tidy. I can still see it now.

‘The pathologist will provide more information in due course,’ DI Bradley said. ‘Suffice to say, the pathologist is a very experienced professional. I believe there may be some unexplained bruising, to the torso and one of his hands. Some internal markings also.’

‘But couldn’t whatever marks you found just be down to the surgery, or bruising afterwards, or him bumping into something or falling or any number of things?’ I note there is more than a hint of hysteria in my voice and yet I seem powerless to quell it.