Her next plan was to speak to Susan Harper’s sister, the woman who’d sold the cottage. Susan had received a lump sum when her remaining parent died, while Petunia inherited the cottage, which Susan then rented from her. The upkeep was too much for Petunia to bear. According to the estate agent, she didn’t like stepping foot inside it. ‘Too many memories,’ she’d said.

The mystery of it all was tying Naomi up in knots. As a journalist, she had her pick of crime cases to report on, and the publication she worked with paid decent money for a story that got results. But money was not the driving force behind Naomi’s obsession. She had a reputation for getting answers. This case had completely stumped her. But Ed would not feel the same way. As soon as he got wind of it, he’d be dragging them both back to London – that’s if he ever spoke to her again. It wasn’t as if she’d blame him. He thought they were moving into a home they could make their own. She, on the other hand, was desperate to get inside the heart of the mystery that had been troubling her for so long. Would she be able to sleep at night, knowing what had taken place there? The thought of it made butterflies dance in her stomach, but it was excitement, not dread, that put them there.

Common sense told her the Harper family were dead. Everything pointed to it. There was no reason for them to flee, no motive for them to leave everything they knew and start again. She pored over the information she had obtained online. Not a penny of Susan Harper’s fifty-thousand-pound inheritance had been touched. Nor had the funds she raised for her daughter’s care. Grace’s plight had caught the attention of the media, and letters and donations had been sent from far and wide. It was quite a scandal when it became known how much money she was already sitting on. Perhaps Susan hadn’t wanted to touch her parents’ money, Naomi mused. From what she’d read, Susan hadn’t been particularly close to them. Her husband Martin was no stranger to travelling, and some armchair detectives had surmised that the family had packed up and gone abroad. But Grace didn’t own a passport because she had never been outside the UK. Her mother’s passport was out of date, found in a bedside table drawer. Martin Harper’s passport was in a side pocket in his holdall.

Sighing, Naomi became lost in a world of wondering as she stared at the clippings in her hand. People went missing all the time in similar circumstances, but not entire families. What about Bonnie? The family dog had been rehomed by a villager. If only she could speak. She had surely witnessed what happened and came out of it unharmed.