‘Does he seem colder than he should?’ That was the other black copper, who had kept his eyes fixed on Quill’s face, as if making himself not look away. He’d changed since last time Singh had seen him. More certain. Harder.

‘That’s interesting. My thermometer doesn’t say so, but…’ Singh ran his hand over the chilly surface of the chest. ‘I feel he is. No, please don’t write that down, that’s ridiculous. Why do you ask?’

The DC just shook his head. So Singh had to move on.

‘I do see some indications, such as traces of fibre beneath the fingernails, that the victim was killed inside a car. The hands seem to have clawed at a seat, and we see leather and other indicators of a luxury interior.’ Looking at Quill’s hands, he recalled his own, a couple of hours ago, pulling a sheet back from this same face. That had been when Quill’s wife had come in. It never stopped being hard to do that. ‘Is this your husband?’ he’d asked then.

‘Yes, it is,’ the wife had said, very quickly. In order to be doing all she could. He’d heard that sound so often. He’d stepped back then and let her do all the other things they sometimes did: put a hand to the deceased’s face; kiss his brow, and, in this case, his lips. Sarah Quill looked exactly like the other widows he’d met, yet each of them was unique. Death was the most common thing to human beings, and still enormous for everyone. Dr Singh had a young family and had never known the death of someone he loved. He hoped his job would prepare him. He knew it would not.

She hadn’t started to cry. Some did, some didn’t. She was one of those for whom it was going to take a very long time before it hit her.

Now he turned to these others who had loved James Quill, wishing he had it in him to be a minister of some kind, a counsellor. But he knew nothing of death. He said the same to them as he’d said to Sarah. ‘I’m very sorry.’

*   *   *

Ross put a hand over her eyes as they left the lab. She didn’t want people looking at her. She didn’t want to look at people. Or at anything. She felt Costain put a hand on her shoulder, felt the years ahead of her without happiness properly now for the first time. How terrible Quill’s last moments must have been. Now she would never see him again.

Unless. Unless. Unless …