Back at Samford Police headquarters, there was more news awaiting Natalie, in the shape of Mike. Natalie took in his wide shoulders, intense bright gaze and unshaven face that enhanced his good looks and was reminded of their fling. It had taken place over a year ago but some days she found it hard to look at him without thinking about that night.

This morning, Mike was completely focused on his presentation. He set out transparencies neatly, ready to share his knowledge. Natalie greeted him and threw herself onto the nearest seat. Murray slumped against the wall.

‘You got anywhere?’ Mike asked.

‘Just spoken to Charlotte’s parents. They’re not on best of terms with Adam. Mother thinks there was something strange going on between him and Charlotte.’

‘You’ll be interested in our findings then,’ Mike began. He halted at the arrival of Ian. ‘Just in time.’

‘Lucy’s interviewing a barman to confirm Adam’s alibi. She’ll be here afterwards. We’ve spoken to Lee and Inge.’

‘Okay. Grab a seat, Ian. Mike’s about to bring us up to speed. Mike?’ Natalie said.

‘We found the key to the valuables drawer. It was where you said it would be, stuck to the underside of the top drawer. Watches and jewellery were in the locked drawer. To our knowledge, nothing was stolen from the house.’ Mike flicked on the overhead projector. A photograph of the wall above Charlotte’s bed, bearing the word ‘why?’, flashed up. Mike cleared his throat.

‘We’ve identified the blood to be Charlotte’s. We took the dimensions of each letter and looked at the depth of each smear on them. From that we concluded the letters were written using a forefinger, although we think our perp was wearing gloves so no prints.

‘We believe the killer took the blood from beside her body. There are repetitive dabs in this area.’ Once more, Mike took a transparency and, removing the first, placed it onto the projector. Charlotte’s head swam into vision. Above the crown was a pool of blood. Mike pointed out the area he’d referred to.

‘Could you lift no prints at all from it, Mike?’ Murray asked.

Mike shook his head. ‘If indeed the killer used their finger to write the word, they made sure it was covered up. However, talking of prints, I have something significant for you.’

A third picture replaced the one of Charlotte. It was of the baseball bat.

‘The bloodstains on this bat have been identified as Charlotte’s. We pulled fingerprints from the handle too and several of them are Charlotte’s.’

‘She was holding the bat in self-defence.’ Ian’s brows had knitted together.

‘That might have been the case,’ said Mike, pointing towards the top of the handle. ‘The prints suggest she took hold of it here. There’s a thumbprint belonging to her towards the top of the handle. It’s facing in the opposite direction to what I’d expect from somebody picking up the bat as normal, and there are also several partials all belonging to her, here, here and here.’

‘They’re further down the handle,’ said Murray.

‘Correct. This pattern of prints suggests she was trying to grasp hold of the bat. Here are two prints: forefinger and middle finger. Here, three prints in a row, commensurate with somebody feeling for and pulling it towards them.’

‘She was trying to wrestle it from her assailant.’ Natalie’s words were more a statement than a question.

‘Possibly so. We also found another partial print on the handle but it wasn’t Charlotte’s. It belongs to Adam, her husband.’

Natalie’s eyes widened. ‘The lying son of a bitch. He touched the bat. He told me he didn’t have a baseball bat.’

‘It’s definitely his fingerprint. The bat itself is a heavy-duty, wooden, varnished one. The logo on the barrel indicates its brand – Wollowo – sporting merchandise readily purchased in stores and online.’

‘Then if she purchased it, she bought it for the same reason many others do – protection,’ said Murray.

Mike rummaged in his bag once more for some notes before speaking again. ‘Blood spatter indicates she was struck with force beside the bed. There are blood droplets ascending in a pattern against the bedside table and micro droplets above it that support that theory.’ He put up a photograph of the crime scene and shook his shoulders free of tension.

‘This is where we believe Charlotte was attacked.’ He pointed to the far side of the bed. ‘We discovered microscopic carpet fibres in the folds of the skin on her knees and again on her right elbow. From those, we surmised she was on all fours. There are also fibres under the nails of her right hand.’

‘Carpet fibres?’ Murray asked.

‘Again, that is possibly the case. We’ve yet to identify them. If they are, it might suggest she was trying to hide under the bed. We think the attacker surprised her there, struck her on the side of the head and knocked her to one side, then hit her repeatedly with the bat. Our initial thoughts are that she was rendered unconscious from the initial blow and Pinkney’s report might confirm that.’ He drew a deep breath and turned off the projector. ‘That’s it for the moment.’

Natalie cocked her head. ‘If Charlotte was indeed trying to hide under the bed, why didn’t she drop down under it from where she was sleeping? Instead, she got out of her side of the bed, walked or crawled around to the other side, and hid there. That’s not logical.’

‘Maybe she was on all fours, searching for the bat hidden there?’ Murray offered.

‘If it was hers, wouldn’t she have kept it under her side of the bed? She could reach it more easily if it were there,’ Ian said.

Natalie added her thoughts. ‘Based on what Mike’s just told us, it’d be logical to assume Adam Brannon owned that bat and he – or somebody else – killed Charlotte with it. We’ll bring him in for questioning.’

‘I’ll be upstairs if you need me. We’re examining the fibres we found to ensure they all match.’ Mike packed away the transparencies then lifted a hand in a farewell gesture and slipped out of the office.

Natalie took his place at the front of the room to set them off. ‘Just a quick update on Alfie Brannon. He’s still with social services but there’s every chance he’ll be staying with his grandparents soon. Obviously, where he ends up or what will eventually happen to him depends on where this investigation takes us, although I’ve been given to understand Charlotte’s parents are keen to take custody of him should Adam not want to, for whatever reason, or if indeed he is charged for Charlotte’s murder. Okay, over to you.’

Ian was the first to speak. ‘Inge, the babysitter, confirmed Adam drove her home around ten p.m. but she doesn’t know where he went afterwards. He didn’t say. Her mother, Sabine, told us Adam had little to do with his son and that caused tension and arguments between the pair.’

Murray scratched at the back of his neck. ‘Sheila, Charlotte’s mother, thought Adam and Charlotte had been arguing. Charlotte had wanted to talk to her about it but then changed her mind at the last moment. She told her mother she had something to tell Adam and he wouldn’t like it.’

‘Tension between them, arguments, a secret and a baseball bat. All of which leads us in one direction; we need to speak to Adam. Bring him in, Murray,’ said Natalie.

---

As she waited for Adam to come to the station, she scrutinised the photographs of the crime scene once more. If Mike was right and the person had used their forefinger to write the word above the bed in blood, the letters were surely too narrow for Adam to have done so. He had large hands and big fingers. She rang upstairs and asked Mike to send down exact dimensions of the letters.

‘He needn’t have used all his finger, Natalie,’ he said. ‘Only the tip of it. The marks aren’t the exact size of his finger.’

‘Can you tell how big his fingers are from the writing?’

‘Not with any degree of accuracy,’ came the reply.

‘Cheers. It was just a thought.’

She hung up again and flicked through the statement the neighbour, Margaret Callaghan, had given her. Even though they would question Adam, there were other avenues she ought to pursue. Her phone lit up. It was Leigh.

She repressed a sigh. She had more important things to handle than her daughter’s desire to get new boots, yet she couldn’t ignore the text.

She hoped it was enough to satisfy her daughter. She picked up the brief notes she’d made on the two individuals Margaret had spotted. ‘Ian, run through local surveillance cameras in the area, will you? See if anyone matching this description turns up.’

‘There are no cameras near Maddison Court but I’ll try the streets closest to it. Eastborough only has a few cameras in place.’

‘You’d think there’d be loads of cameras on an estate like that,’ said Natalie. ‘There are some very expensive places there. Surely the houses have surveillance equipment to protect against burglary.’

‘I’ll check with the neighbours. See if any of them have cameras on their properties. We know Adam didn’t own any. He only had a burglar alarm.’

Natalie pulled out the photograph of Alfie’s nursery one more time. She studied the fairy-tale cot with a canopy, curtain drapes with bows, and soft toys laid out to greet him when he awoke. His life would probably be changed forever now. He might even live with his grandparents and never return to this room that had been lovingly put together. She examined the framed photos set up on the shelves and noted there wasn’t a single one of Adam with Alfie. Why were there only pictures of Charlotte with her baby? Adam hadn’t been keen to look after his son when Charlotte was alive, and he was equally reluctant now, after her death. It didn’t add up. She absent-mindedly chewed on a hangnail. Adam might be a semi-pro boxer but he was no match for her. She wasn’t going to release him until she was satisfied he had nothing to do with Charlotte’s death.