The snow-covered CNN reporter gestured to the sky with a gloved hand and turned his back on the cameraman to compose himself for another take, while a boy with a clipboard raised his arms in a protest of innocence.

Craig watched, though he couldn’t hear, through a gap in the blinds he’d made with a finger, until the guy started the same spiel again. He turned back into the room where Staff Sergeant Becker was still talking.

‘So the 23.00 hours shift will now take over that duty and the constables on duty now will have to work right through.’

There was a groan from the roomful of tired police constables.

‘We don’t have a traffic violation here, folks. You don’t need me to remind you your buddy was one of the victims. It’s going to take as long as it takes.’ He looked over at McGee. ‘Staff Sergeant McGee. Can you address the detachment on the suspect please?’

Craig looked at this guy. So Edmonton thought this fifty-year-old desk man would make a better job of catching a killer than he would. Simply because he knew Joe Reader too well. Assholes.

‘We don’t have a suspect, Staff Sergeant.’

Becker caught his tone and remained polite. A teacher to a pupil. ‘Okay. You interviewed the Kinchuinick. What do we have?’

Craig saw Daniel Hawk flinch at Sam being called simply the Kinchuinick, and for once thought that it was not an over-sensitive reaction.

‘We have a mystery. Damned if I know what’s going on.’

Becker looked at the men who were waiting for instructions and guidance and was irritated by the unprofessional resignation in McGee’s tone. He hated these clean-up operations, working with people you’d only just met, usually bristling with resentment at your presence.

But it was his job and he didn’t like being hindered.

‘Well perhaps if you can brief the team on what you learned, maybe someone can start to clear it up for you.’

Someone laughed at that. It could have been one of Becker’s men, or one of his own. It didn’t matter. McGee sighed. He was behaving badly. Maybe he was too closely involved. He moved forward and sat on the desk in front of Becker, one foot on the floor and his hands clasped at his knee.

‘Constable Hawk and I interviewed Samuel Hunt of nine Oriole Drive at nineteen-forty. We ascertained that he had been not only in the vicinity of the murder at the time but was in fact in a state of unconscious collapse in the trees during the kill. No one saw him at this time, but we have witnesses who saw him emerge from the trees approximately half an hour after the boy’s estimated time of death.’

There was a murmur from the assembled room.