There. Nothing to it really. Except she knew that every single one of those black and white questions and answers had a million grey areas. Little niggles and twisting implications that would send her spinning back into that pit of confusion and apprehension again. But this is what she was built for. She was strong. Sam Hunt had made her strong when she thought she would break and here she was letting him down when he needed her most, by doubting him and backing off. Not good enough, Katie Hunt. Not by a long way. Kids were weird. Billy could be upset by all kinds of stuff. Nothing would let her believe that Sam would hurt his children in any way. He fathered those kids like they were the last two hopes for the human race.

She scratched vacantly at her ear and decided to do a tour of the museum to clear her head. There was work of sorts on the desk, but it could wait half an hour.

She opened the door and breathed in that hot woody, floor polish smell that pervaded the museum and made for the stairs to the balcony. They’d catch the guy soon. They had to. She couldn’t bear the thought of those two cops following Sam around like he was a criminal. But at least if the guy struck again soon, while they were watching Sam, it would get her husband off the hook.

She paused on the stairs, her hand on the banister, stunned at the evil of her thought. So she would like to see someone else die to clear her husband’s name? Jesus, Katie. This business was turning her into a monster. What if had been Billy or Jess skiing up there, huh? How’d you like that psycho to cut them up?

She put a hand to her temples and took a breath. Katie didn’t wish anyone dead. What was wrong with her? That ugly, warped thought had just floated in from nowhere and she would never entertain it again. She pulled herself up the stairs, flushed from her shame.

All quiet. So quiet that Katie’s boots made a squeaking noise on the highly polished floor as she moved across to the glass cases. Katie leaned against the wooden rail running round the balcony, gazed up the fifteen-foot length of the Indian artefact case and sighed. Funny how she had never questioned her happiness before. She thought it had somehow been her right, that she’d earned it after suffering with Tom. But had she suffered? Think of the parents of that kid. Think of Estelle Reader. That was suffering. She’d never really suffered at all.

Something caught her eye, moving on the edge of her vision, through the glass of the case. She turned her head in curiosity.

Katie’s mouth opened and her blood beat in her ears.