‘She’s inside,’ he says, ominously.

They put on their PPE and head over. Both back doors of the van are open, and Craig bangs on the side by way of introduction. A short, stout woman pokes her head out.

‘DI Craig and DS Butler,’ Craig says. ‘You must be Hodgson?’

‘Susie,’ she says. ‘Come inside. If you can. Don’t touch anything.’

Craig leads the way and Robin follows. The three of them crowd into the van. It’s larger than Robin remembers from Wednesday, but just as shocking. The body has been removed, but the mess remains – blood over almost every surface, dried on the floor, spatters up the walls. How someone can make sense of this, Robin’s not sure, but that’s exactly what Susie does for a living.

Craig and Robin go to stand at the cleaner end of the vehicle, next to the driver’s cab, bending down slightly to fit in the decreasing headroom. Every inch of the tiny space has been utilised to its full extent. The area near them, where Finn had been sitting on Wednesday, is crowded with computers and other technical equipment. A small, seated area is at the far end, with a table and two low stools. Robin remembers Sharp’s body lying under that table.

‘So,’ the crime scene investigator begins. ‘You want the headlines?’

Craig nods. ‘Please.’

‘We took the body away yesterday, but you can see the void where it was situated.’ Susie points to the patch of clean floor, and the clean line of dark red. ‘The rest is a complete mess. We know the victim died from a wound to his neck, but even without that knowledge I could have made a pretty good guess that was what happened.’

‘How?’ Robin asks.

‘Volume and distribution of the blood. It’s a huge amount.’ She gestures round the van. ‘Especially to come from one person. And up the walls, across the ceiling. Most of it is smeared and smudged. The pair obviously moved around and spread it everywhere. I’ve seen their clothes – both soaked in it. And we have contact stains all over. I’m not surprised, given the space in here.’

She points to a long smudge up the wall. ‘Handprints, possible finger swipes with some ridge detail – don’t know whose yet – plus marks from fabric where they might have fallen against the wall. Footwear marks in blood, here,’ Robin looks at the clear tread pattern, ‘and here. Your victim was wearing size ten boots, so these are probably his. Yours,’ she adds, pointing to Robin. ‘Here. You didn’t contaminate the scene too much, thankfully. And here’s another mark from you. Your knee, right? I read your statement.’ Robin nods, remembering the nauseating feeling that he was wading in someone’s blood.

Susie carries on, pointing to the floor under the footplates. ‘And your offender,’ she says. ‘Trainers, here.’