“That’s why we were surprised to find his car in the garage,” added Lucy, when her mother didn’t continue.

“What did you do then?” Kincaid asked.

After a quick glance at Claire, Lucy went on. “We put Mum’s car in the garage. When we came around the corner of the garage into the garden we could see the door standing-”

“Where was the dog?” asked Kincaid. “What’s his name-Lewis?”

Lucy stared at him as if she didn’t quite understand the question, then said, “He was in his run, in the back garden.”

“What kind of dog is Lewis?”

“A Lab. He’s brilliant, really lovely.” Lucy smiled for the first time, and again he heard that flash of proprietary pride in her voice.

“Did he seem upset in any way? Disturbed?”

Mother and daughter glanced at each other, then Lucy answered. “Not then. It was only later, when the police came. He got so frantic we had to bring him in the house.”

Kincaid set his empty cup on the table, and Claire’s body jerked slightly as the china clinked. “Let’s go back to when you saw the open door.”

The silence stretched. Lucy moved a bit nearer her mother.

The fire settled and a shower of sparks rose, then flickered out. Kincaid waited another heartbeat, then spoke. “Please, Mrs. Gilbert, try to tell us exactly what happened next. I know that you’ve already been through this with Chief Inspector Deveney, but you might remember some tiny detail that could help us.”

After a moment Claire took Lucy’s hand and cradled it between her own, but Kincaid couldn’t tell if she was extending support or receiving comfort. “You saw. There was blood… everywhere. I could smell it.” She drew a deep, shuddering breath, then continued. “I tried to lift him. Then I realized… I had some first-aid training, years ago. When I couldn’t find a pulse, I dialed nine-nine-nine.”

“Did you notice anything unusual as you came into the house?” asked Gemma. “Anything at all in the kitchen that wasn’t quite where it should be?”