‘I don’t get it!’ She threw her hands in the air, her face weary with the stresses of the last few days. ‘If the villagers were in on this, they should be behind bars.’

Naomi didn’t disagree, but her sister knew better than anyone that police needed proof. ‘I know,’ she said, delivering a half-smile. ‘But there’s nothing more we can do about it now.’

Lloyd had very efficiently disposed of the bodies of Susan, Martin and their daughter Grace – and now, ten years later, he too was dead. According to Dawn’s texts to Morgan, Joanne was devastated by his loss. The village was said to be in shock. As predicted, Joanne denied seeing Morgan and Naomi at Ivy Cottage, saying she was at the coffee shop all day. It was Joanne’s word against theirs and the police had a jigsaw puzzle of a case to put together.

John admitted to being at the house, stating he presumed it was police business when he saw Morgan and Naomi in cuffs. He didn’t deny being Lloyd’s son, saying they were estranged. As for the rest of the villagers – the truth did not come easy when the bonds of silence had lasted for more than a decade. Even Dawn denied her father’s involvement, and Morgan had insisted on keeping her out of it. Naomi had no sympathy for Joel, who, by some miracle, survived. Not that he was going anywhere. Police would process him as soon as he was fit enough to be dealt with. Yet they owed him a small debt of thanks. Had Joel arrived at Ivy Cottage a minute later, Naomi and Morgan would surely have died. But his acts had not been selfless. He wanted Morgan for himself.

As for Ed, he had barely let his family out of his sight since getting back from Scotland. Guilt overwhelmed Naomi when she thought about the living nightmare she had put her family through. She could not apologise to him enough.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said for the hundredth time as she took in the worry lines on his face. ‘I never meant for any of this . . .’

But Ed continued to surprise her. ‘You’ve nothing to be sorry for. I should have been here.’ He was standing at the hotel window staring out to the streets below. Mackenhurst was not quite London, and still in the New Forest, but it was bustling with enough life to settle her for now. Morgan was on her laptop in the suite bedroom, pale and withdrawn.

‘It was my idea to buy the house . . .’ Naomi rested a hand on her husband’s chest. His heart beat firmly beneath her palm.

‘Aye, but I should have checked it out.’ Ed placed his hand over hers. ‘You’re a crime reporter. You were drawn to the place. I should have known.’

‘But Ed . . .’ she protested, aware her sister was watching them both.