‘We’ve identified several sets of fingerprints at a location close to the crime scene,’ Gabby’s voice echoed around the open space. She was talking about Blackhall Manor. Anyone familiar with the area would have known that. ‘There’s one person in particular we’re keen to speak to. Further investigations are underway to facilitate that.’ Gabby glanced around the hall. ‘Before you ask for more details, we can’t disclose anything further at this stage. But I can assure you that every member of my team is working around the clock.’

A pang of jealousy burned in Sarah’s chest. Everyone except me.

‘Never mind that, we want to know how this happened in the first place!’ A gruff voice rang out from the crowd. It was Mr Palmer, a resident of Upper Slayton. Sarah remembered her husband saying what a pain in the arse he was due to his overzealous involvement in the local Neighbourhood Watch. Mr Palmer stood with his arms tightly folded, awaiting a response. He was a pock-faced man, and a keen runner. Sarah had grown used to seeing him on the roads. Not that he got very far, the number of times he stopped to talk to neighbours along the way. Today, he leaned on a crutch, and Sarah wondered if he’d had an injury of some sort. Her attention switched to Gabby, a reed in a storm as the locals voiced their annoyance in turn. DI Lee had been called away and left Gabby to hold the fort on her own. It wasn’t like Bernard to let people down. As the cameras closed in on a shot of Gabby’s face, it was disconcerting to see so many reporters here. But one camera belonged to the Slayton Police media department and she watched it pan the room. The crowd didn’t know it, but they were being filmed. Sometimes perpetrators of crimes attended meetings like these to keep one step ahead.

Not every murder made such big news, but Slayton’s history gave the case an edge. People wanted to hear about the residents of the town with the dark past. It brought an extra twist that the daughter of the man who had promised a secure neighbourhood had been murdered. A suited man stood at the front of the room, jabbing the air with his finger. ‘We bought these houses in good faith. The developer made a promise. Upper Slayton is meant to be safe.’

Sarah noticed the name ‘Upper’ Slayton had been used, not Slayton as a whole. She rolled her eyes. They’d be talking about building a wall to separate them next.

‘Slayton is a safe community,’ Gabby spoke. ‘This was a one-off, a tragic, unfortunate event.’