She wondered if fish might have eaten some of John while he was in the water, mostly because she couldn’t stop herself wondering. She had heard that could happen. It made her think about a trip the family took to Bali years ago. John had dangled his feet inside a tank of Garra rufa fish. They swarmed to him, and he giggled as they chewed on his dead skin, tickling his feet.

‘I want to go in there,’ she said.

‘I’m afraid that’s not possible,’ Eckman told her. ‘This’ll sound a bit morbid, but technically the body is still considered police evidence and we need to avoid any chance of contamination.’

‘It doesn’t sound morbid. It sounds ridiculous.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Who did this?’

‘We’re looking into it, Mrs Keddie. We have several leads at various stages of development.’

‘Who did this to him?’ She wasn’t asking Eckman now, but the universe, which suddenly seemed like some vicious schoolyard bully, throwing rocks at passing cars without thought of consequences.

‘Is it him?’ Eckman asked. ‘Is it your husband?’

The word formed in her mouth, round and full and total, but she couldn’t manage to get it out.

‘Mrs Keddie?’

‘… Yes.’

‘I’m very sorry,’ Eckman said. ‘But for it to count as a formal identification you’ll need to state the deceased’s name.’

‘I can’t … I…’

It hit her harder than she had anticipated. She had been holding out hope. Actual hope. This might have been a mistake, a misidentification, a misunderstanding, but it was none of those things. This was real. This was happening.

‘Do you need a moment?’ Eckman asked.

Her knees stiffened under her and for a moment she saw herself pitching forward, cracking her skull on the glass. Then she felt a hand take hers. For a startled, intimate moment, she thought it was Eckman. But when she turned, she saw Fisher standing beside her, staring through the glass.

‘His name is John Morgan Keddie,’ Fisher said. ‘That’s him. That’s my son.’

They didn’t talk on the way to the motel. Their home for the night would be the Blue Whale Motor Inn. Eckman told them they wouldn’t be able to stay at their holiday house for a few days because it was being searched, scanned and dusted. When Fisher called the motel to check if they had any vacancies, the man on the other end of the line said, ‘Mate, this time of year all we’ve got is vacancies.’