Catherine got out of her car and strode towards where Lucy was standing.

‘Seriously, I’m not joking when I say that the whole town goes into full-on psychopath mode whenever you’re around.’

‘Tell me about it. I’m actually a bit tired of it all. It would be nice to float along with some run-of-the-mill stuff that didn’t involve dead bodies.’

‘I can’t really say the same – I’d be out of business. So thank you, Lucy, I can always guarantee I’ll get a decent holiday off all the overtime I do when you’re on shift.’

Lucy smiled at her. ‘You’re so bad.’

Catherine nodded. She crossed over to the CSI van, where Amanda passed her all the protective clothing she needed.

‘Have you got some gloves I can have?’

Amanda passed a box of bright blue gloves towards her.

‘Not like you not to have your own?’

‘No, it isn’t. I have a car boot full of them, only I was at the theatre with my husband and we went in his car. Poor bugger isn’t going to forgive me for dragging him out just after the show started.’

Lucy shrugged. ‘I think he’ll understand when you tell him why – this one is really bad.’

‘You say that they’re all bad, Lucy.’

‘I know, but this is an entire family. There’s a dead boy up there lying in his bed staring up at the ceiling. He should be dreaming about playing football or being on a spaceship to Mars.’

Catherine nodded. ‘Come on then, show me the way.’

Lucy went first; Mattie followed. They would need to roll Craig and Michelle Martin to see if there was a gun underneath them, or any other injuries besides the bullet wounds.

Catherine took in the large, detached house with immaculate front and back gardens. It wasn’t so dissimilar from her own home. The hall was lit up and the décor was classy, all creams, beiges and touches of silver. Lucy led her upstairs to the master bedroom and let her go inside first while she waited at the door with Mattie, giving her some space to assess the scene.

‘What’s your take on it?’

‘I’d like to think that it’s a murder-suicide: horrific, of course, but slightly easier to accept than a stranger-killing.’

She put her heavy case down next to Lucy and sighed. ‘I’m getting either too old or too soft for this.’

‘You know I’ve heard you say that before – are you okay?’

‘I’m fine, just fed up of the tragedy in this town. Natural deaths and accidents are bad enough; there’s just no need for this level of violence.’

Mattie agreed. ‘Maybe there’s something in the water that’s sending people mad.’

Lucy looked at him. ‘I keep telling you not to watch so much television. That stuff isn’t real.’

Catherine squatted down to look at the body on the floor. ‘I’m afraid this is definitely not your killer. He was shot at close range from behind – it’s not impossible to shoot yourself from that angle, but it’s highly unlikely. I think that whoever did this must have been hiding, then crept up behind him. Help me roll him, Mattie.’

Mattie walked over and knelt next to Catherine. On the count of three they rolled him towards them. The front of his face was a bloodied mess and Mattie recoiled, almost letting go.

‘Roll him back.’

They gently laid him back into almost his original position. Catherine took Craig’s temperature, then looked at Mattie, whose skin tone was now pure white.

‘Sorry, I should have warned you his face would be gone.’

‘But how? The hole in the back of his head isn’t that big,’ Mattie said.

‘That’s because entrance wounds are typically round, neat holes. There’s usually a comparatively small amount of blood where the projectile enters. The bullet stretches the skin on entry, which then shrinks back to its former position. That makes the wound look smaller than the actual bullet.’

Lucy nodded. ‘I’ve heard this before – I’ve only dealt with one previous death by shooting and that was a suicide.’

Catherine continued. ‘In this case the bullet has hit the skull instead of passing straight through the soft tissue. So the shattering of the skull created additional projectiles of bone fragments, which then caused even more damage.’

Lucy nodded. ‘No gun underneath him?’

‘No.’

Catherine finished examining his body, stood up and crossed to the bed, gently lifting Michelle’s head.

‘Same thing here: shot at close range. Entrance wound is relatively neat, back of the head is a mess; it’s ragged and torn with lots of tissue extruding. This is why there’s so much blood on the pillows. Given the man’s body temperature and the fact that they’re both in full rigor, I’d say they’ve been dead approximately eighteen to twenty hours.’

Lucy spoke up. ‘That would mean they were killed last night. Tom said that he noticed the front door open this morning, but didn’t think anything of it because both cars were still outside.’

After taking samples and Michelle’s temperature, Catherine looked up from her endless forms.

‘Right, these two can be bagged up and taken to the mortuary when you’ve finished your investigations. Shall we?’

Lucy didn’t know if she wanted to go back into the boy’s bedroom and see the small, lifeless body of Arran Martin again. But she had no choice. The best thing she could do for this family now was to make sure no stone was left unturned.

‘Yes, I suppose we should.’

Mattie was shaking his head. ‘I wish we didn’t have to.’

Lucy led the way along the plush, carpeted hallway to Arran’s room. It was expensive material that cushioned every sound. No wonder Craig hadn’t heard his killer sneak up behind him; she supposed that in a way it was a blessing. At least he hadn’t known what was about to happen. Her stomach was churning so much that she felt the mouthful of wine and pasta she’d eaten threatening to come back up. The door was open so she let Catherine pass her as she waited there.

Mattie stopped next to Lucy. ‘Why? I mean, why the fuck would you do this to anyone, let alone a kid?’

Lucy didn’t answer because she couldn’t comprehend why in the slightest.

Catherine turned to look at them both. ‘Why indeed? It doesn’t matter how many times I see a dead child – it never gets any easier.’

She gazed down at the body of the boy tenderly and whispered, ‘Come on, sweetie, I won’t hurt you. I just need to take a look.’

Lucy had never heard the formidable doctor in front of her speak to anyone so gently and she had to furiously blink back the tears that were blurring her vision. Mattie’s hand rested on her shoulder. He squeezed it softly and all three of them mourned for the life of the boy, taken far too soon and far too violently.

‘Same thing again: shot at close range. Thankfully I don’t think he knew a thing, either, judging by the position he’s lying in. He must have been fast asleep. If he’d woken up he would have tried to run away and hide.’

She paused to catch her breath, then turned to look at Lucy.

‘You were right; this is really bad. I hope you find whoever did this and pretty quick.’

Lucy looked her straight in the eye. ‘Trust me, I’ll find them.’