Several centimetres of snow had already fallen on the path down to the road and the dark sky above them suggested the flurry was set to remain a while longer. Kate wrapped the scarf tightly around the lower half of her face and pulled the lapels of her coat up.

She turned and took a final glance at Georgie. ‘You shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened. We all make mistakes. The key is learning from them. You’d better get back inside before you catch your death.’

Georgie forced a smile, which quickly evaporated as she closed the door.

Kate continued down the path, her footprints indenting the snow as she made her way carefully along the pavement. It was barely three o’clock, but the sun was nearly out of sight, and it felt much later. She could just make out a queue of traffic on Highfield Lane at the end of the road, as panicked workers battled to make it home before their routes would be blocked by snow. It would be a nightmare getting back to the station.

Kate glanced at her Audi as she shuffled past. There was already snow gathered on the roof, and she could barely see the windscreen wipers beneath their blanket of white. There was no point in moving it the short journey to number forty-eight. Lights were on in most of the houses, making number forty-eight stand out as a property with no sign of life beyond the snow-covered lawn and empty driveway.

Kate closed her eyes and tried to imagine Daisy walking this way on that Friday night. Was this why she’d stopped and waited before switching off her phone? If Georgie was right and the owner of the house had asked her if she was okay, had they engaged in conversation? Would an upset fifteen-year-old really talk to a stranger while on her way home?

Kate looked back at the house: semi-detached, with a satellite dish hanging from the chimney pot. Probably a three-bedroom property, at a guess, but the exterior brickwork looked like it had seen better days. There was no gate on the path leading to the green front door where the paint was beginning to flake. Net curtains hung in each of the windows, but pressing her face against the glass, she couldn’t see any furniture inside, the only light coming in from the window.

Pulling out her phone, Kate dialled the office. ‘Ah, Laura, you’re back. Great. Can you do me a favour and check HOLMES2 for the reports on the house-to-house enquiries? I want to know whether anyone managed to speak with the residents at forty-eight Abbotts Way.’

There was a pause on the line. ‘One sec, ma’am.’ Another pause. ‘No, it seems three attempts were made to contact the residents of number forty-eight, but there was never an answer. After the third attempt, a search was run for a phone number, but there is no telephone line connected to the property. Conclusion was that the property is vacant.’

‘Who reached that conclusion?’

‘Olly’s name is on the report, ma’am.’

‘Do me another favour, Laura, and see what you can dig up on the owner of the house. Check council tax records, whether it’s listed on any estate agent sites as available for sale or rent. Call me back as soon as you have something.’

Kate hung up and moved back to the property. Finding no sign of a doorbell, she thumped a gloved hand against the door, leaning closer to listen for the sound of noise. Her footprints on the path were virtually gone already. She thumped the door again, and this time crouched down so she could lift the flap of the letter box.

The overpowering smell of bleach hit her immediately and then something else, something terrifyingly and unmistakably familiar: strawberries. Her heart began to beat faster as the adrenaline kicked in.

Kate dialled the office again, but this time her call was direct to the supe. ‘Sir, I’m seeking authority to attempt entry to a vacant property in connection with the Daisy Emerson disappearance.’

‘Reasoning?’

‘A witness puts her in the vicinity of the property the night she went missing, and there is a stench of cleaning products coming from within; the same kind left in the school gymnasium. I’ve attempted to establish contact with the property’s occupant, but without success. I believe there’s a chance Daisy could be inside.’

‘How secure is the door?’

Kate rested the phone between her good shoulder and cheek, pushing against the door, but it didn’t budge. ‘At a guess, it’s double-locked. I’m going to need the battering ram, sir.’

‘I’ll get someone over there ASAP and have paramedics and SSD standing by.’

---

The door frame splintered on the third heave, and the second officer managed to manoeuvre it out of their way. The syrupy stench of strawberry was far worse inside, and Kate was grateful to have the scarf over her mouth and nose, to block some of it out.

Kate rested her foot on the bottom step of the staircase. ‘One of you wait outside in case our guy suddenly returns, the other check downstairs; I’m going up. Be careful not to disturb any evidence, and shout if you find anything.’

Taking a deep breath, Kate delicately moved her foot to the next stair. With each step up, the cocktail of chemicals and artificial flavours grew more intense. The carpeted stairs strained and whined as if each was carrying the weight of Kate’s dread.

At the top of the staircase, she found four closed doors, and based on the downstairs layout, she predicted that the two central doors would be to bedrooms, and then it was a toss-up to determine which of the other doors led to the bathroom, and which to the third smaller bedroom. Composing herself, Kate opened the door immediately to her left. Despite the dim light filtering through the frosted glass, she could see the shower cubicle and cistern, where several flies flickered about.

Leaving the door ajar, she crept along the hallway, ignoring the two central doors, and reaching for the furthest one. Threadbare carpet aside, the small room was empty, a thick layer of dust clinging to the window ledge.

‘Nothing going on down here,’ the constable called up from the foot of the stairs, startling Kate. ‘Place is empty: no food in the cupboards, and no sign of a fridge. Looks like it has been empty for some time.’

‘Thanks,’ she called back. ‘Stay where you are until you hear from me.’

‘Ma’am? Snow’s laying heavier outside, just letting you know.’

Kate coiled her fingers around the handle of the door where the fresh candy-floss aroma permeated most strongly. She closed her eyes and prised it free. The hinges creaked, as it slowly swung open, rustling against something on the floor. Kate forced her eyes open, already anticipating the scene before her, but nothing could have prepared her for what she saw: bright red sprays of blood covered every wall; all around her thick, sticky, crimson puddles of blood had dried on the plastic sheeting which covered every inch of the carpet; overhead, the ceiling was covered with a poppy field of dangling rose and strawberry-scented fresheners. The gymnasium had been horrific, but here the blood covered every possible surface, as if less care had been taken, as if the blood had been fresher.

Kate stepped back, crashing against the hallway wall, holding her breath and willing herself not to pass out.

The constable must have heard the thud, as he called up. ‘Is everything okay, ma’am?’

Kate focused on her breathing, summoning the strength to say her next words. ‘Get SOCO here now!’