The main difficulty was that she hadn’t been in Blackrig at the time of Ailsa’s disappearance and had only met a small number of people who’d known her.

Her most recent chat with Kath had been enlightening. By the end, she was still sure that Kath believed in Greg’s innocence, but she was also convinced that there were things Kath hadn’t said. And she wondered now what they were.

Kath had been keen to give her support, and obviously wanted her to stay in Blackrig, constantly assuring her that Greg would return. Although, without knowing what evidence the police had against him, no one could be sure of that.

She spent some time online trying to learn what evidence might be collected from a dead body, and wondering what they had that pointed to Greg.

Regardless of what Kath had said, being arrested for the rape and murder of a young woman meant the police definitely had something on him – but what?

She thought back to that first morning when she’d been left alone in the house. How she’d checked in the bedroom cupboards to try to get the measure of a man she didn’t really know. How everything had seemed normal in his surroundings, commonplace even.

There had been the gold marriage band, of course. She remembered wondering if Greg had been married before and hadn’t mentioned it. That hadn’t concerned her at the time, as she’d been hiding Richard’s existence, and still was.

Now she knew Greg had been in a relationship with Caroline. Long-term or so it seemed, with a miscarriage as part of it. Greg had indicated that the relationship was over, but as far as Caroline was concerned, it didn’t appear to be.

She went back into the bedroom, the rumpled covers still testament to her troubled sleep, and, sitting on Greg’s side of the bed, opened the drawer again. The ring was still there, but this time she didn’t feel guilty about examining it.

Holding it up to the light, she could make out a well-worn inscription which led her to believe that it had been his father’s wedding ring. The discovery made her sad, and a little annoyed with herself for looking through Greg’s things again.

The last time she’d checked the drawer, a similar feeling had made her shut it after the ring’s discovery. This time she lifted the drawer out and sat it on the bed.

It was funny how the minutiae of life inevitably ended up together somewhere like this. How, after enough time, they were forgotten about. She laid each item out on the bed, disentangling tie pins from an old watch, some leaflets about a game fair together with newspaper cuttings, which, when smoothed out, she found related to Ailsa’s disappearance, as well as to the arrival of the deadly virus in Blackrig.