She caught something like an accusation in the woman’s tone, and wondered dimly if her clammy, nervous small-town cop routine might be an act. After all, wasn’t the spouse usually the prime suspect? If Eckman were gauging her responses, what did she think of them? Kate didn’t know how someone was supposed to act in this situation. Maybe she should have been sobbing or screaming or inconsolable.

They reached the basement and walked down a short corridor.

‘This is it,’ Eckman said. She paused outside a door and turned to Kate. ‘Mrs Keddie, if you need more time…’

‘No, thank you. I’m fine.’

Eckman considered her a moment, then opened the door and led her into a small viewing room. It didn’t smell like formaldehyde as Kate had expected. It smelled like artificial pine and cherry. The ceiling was low. If John were here, he’d have to hunch, Kate thought. Then the darkness that had followed her whispered: Ah, but you see, John is here, just on the other side of that glass.

She looked at a window that ran the full length of one wall, which presumably gave a view into the room where the body was kept. For now, the other room was concealed by a crumpled, lilac-coloured curtain. Kate closed her eyes and for one final time allowed herself to picture John on the front deck of the house, beer in hand, patting the place next to him.

Eckman crossed the room and drew the curtain from left to right, revealing a large white room on the other side of the glass – something between an operating theatre and an industrial freezer. A strip of fluorescent lights buzzed above a bank of heavy steel mortuary drawers. In the middle of the room was a steel gurney. Beneath it, against the stark tiled floor, was a drainage hole. On top of the gurney lay a body, wrapped head to toe in a plastic sheet. The sheet was pink.

Why pink? Kate wondered, as if it mattered.

An unusually tall medical technician was standing next to the body. He wore powdery pink latex gloves and a matching paper cap. It was cold enough to see the man’s breath. He reached across the body and folded the sheet down twice, first to the neck, then the pelvis.

Kate had half expected the body to look as though it was sleeping. It didn’t. It just looked dead. Upon seeing it, a wave of heat swept over her. The skin was ghostly, wrinkled and waterlogged. The eyes were closed, but the mouth was open. There was a long narrow slit across the neck – a second mouth, lips lightly parted.