Lucy watched as Browning drove away with Tom, back in the direction of the station. It was going to be a long night. Dr Catherine Maxwell was on her way, but had been called out of a show she was watching and wouldn’t be here as quickly as normal. Amanda had done the initial videoing and photographing; now she was waiting for Jack to devise a forensic strategy on the best way to process the scene. Multiple murders were difficult. Nothing was going to happen fast tonight; sometimes that was the way. On the plus side, they didn’t have any angry family members demanding to be let in to the scene or making a fuss. At least, not yet – because of the isolated location the news wouldn’t travel so swiftly this time. Unless Alison phoned her friends to tell them. Shit. Lucy realised there was a good chance she might already have done so. She beckoned one of the first officers who had arrived on the scene over to where she was, leaning against the bonnet of a patrol car.

‘Can you go in and sit with the DCI’s wife for a while? Make sure she’s not on the phone or Facebook telling the whole world what’s happened.’

‘Er, I can do… but he’ll be pissed when he comes back and sees me in his house.’

Lucy smiled. ‘Ah yes, you were the one who cuffed him and put him in the van. He might well be pissed with you, but he also knows that you were only doing your job. So once the shock and anger wear off, you’ll be fine.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘I know so. He’s a good boss and he was upset at finding his friends like that. Whatever he might have said to you, he wouldn’t have meant it.’

‘He called me a fucking prick.’

Lucy couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped from her mouth. ‘Sorry, it’s not in the least bit funny. Don’t take it personally; he doesn’t hold grudges. Well, not for long.’

The look on his face was one of horror and, feeling bad, she winked at him. ‘Take it from me – you did a good job under the circumstances. You didn’t know who he was; it’s far better to be safe than sorry. What if he’d been the killer and pulled a gun on you? He wouldn’t have thought twice about shooting you to get away.’

‘Thanks, but it doesn’t feel like it.’

He turned and walked off in the direction of the detached house further down the street. Lucy watched him go.

‘Look at you eyeing up the newbies.’

She turned around to see Mattie, who looked a lot more drained than before they’d arrived. She knew he was trying to lighten her mood and make her feel a little better.

‘I was not! I’m just thinking.’

‘About his physique?’

‘No, definitely not. About this – it’s all wrong. Who would do this? What did Craig do for a living, did you find out? If it turns out that this isn’t a murder-suicide, which I’m ninety per cent sure it isn’t, he must have made a serious enemy.’

‘What if it’s neither? What if someone decided to kill them for no particular reason? It happens: why are Melanie Benson and Stacey Green lying in a mortuary fridge? Someone killed them for the thrill of it.’

Lucy shuddered. ‘I hope not, because it’s far easier to accept that Craig might have had some shady dealings that brought this upon them. I can’t even begin to get my head around the possibility that someone did this for fun. I mean, this is an entire family unit wiped out in minutes. Who would want to do that?’

‘Who would want to do any of the stuff we have to clean up after?’

‘Lewis Waite is still on the run – do you think maybe he had anything to do with this? What if they were in some strange drug or sex ring and he’s taking them all out?’

Mattie shook his head. ‘On paper, yes, he has motive and he had an argument with Stacey in the club. But he’s a low-level smack rat; he’s not even very good at dealing because he always gets picked up. I just can’t see him having the brains or the reason for any of this. In here it doesn’t feel right.’ He pointed to his stomach.

Both coppers’ instincts were working overtime and it was strange how they were both coming to the same conclusion. She just hoped they were right because the thought that it could have been Waite and they’d let him slip through their fingers to kill the Martins would finish her off. It would see her looking for a job where there was no such kind of responsibility.

Lucy’s phone began to ring.

‘Hi, Lucy, how are you? I wondered if you fancied getting a bite to eat when you’ve finished work.’

She ducked away from Mattie and began to walk in the opposite direction, wishing she’d checked the number before answering.

‘Hi, Steve. I’m sorry – I’m busy at the moment and I don’t think I’ll be finished any time soon. Thanks for the offer, though.’

‘You need to cut back on your hours, Lucy. It’s not good for you, working so much. Doctor’s orders.’

She laughed. ‘What about you? How many hours have you worked so far this week?’

‘Well, let me add them up. I think it’s about forty-nine hours straight.’

She tutted. ‘And you have the cheek to lecture me?’

She saw Catherine’s car turn into the street and park up. ‘I’m sorry, I have to go – the doctor is here now.’

‘I wish I was that doctor.’

‘Trust me, you don’t want to be this doctor.’

She ended the call, pushing the phone back into her pocket and crossing the road to Catherine Maxwell’s car. She wasn’t sure whether she was flattered by his persistence or annoyed that he hadn’t taken any notice of her telling him she wasn’t interested.