Around the girl’s neck was what looked like a black scarf. It had been knotted so tightly her neck was ballooning. The victim’s skin tone was bluish and puffy. Her arms were behind her back, her body slightly arched. Her T-shirt had been drawn up over her breasts, her skirt pushed up around her belly. Both legs were spread-eagled, one shoe on, the other close to her side. The knees were scraped and the bloody scratches were covered in flies and maggots, which clustered all around the body. Rising above it was the buzzing sound of bluebottles. Bloated by their feeding frenzy, they clung to the detectives’ white suits.

‘This weather’s got them out early,’ Langton said, swatting a fly off his suit.

Anna could feel her legs start to buckle. She breathed deeply, trying hard not to faint.

‘Let’s go.’

Langton watched Anna stumble ahead of him, desperate to get out of the tent. He knew exactly what was going to happen next. She made it as far as a tree and stood there retching. Her stomach heaved while her eyes streamed tears.

The other two detectives were stripping off their white suits and dumping them in a waste disposal bin provided.

‘See you back at the car park,’ Langton called out, but Anna couldn’t lift her head.

When she finally joined them, they were sitting on a picnic bench. Langton was eating a sandwich and the others were drinking coffee. Anna’s face was almost as blue as the dead girl’s as she perched on the edge of the bench.

Langton passed her a paper napkin.

‘Sorry,’ she murmured, wiping her face.

‘We’ll get over to the station. Nothing much we can do here; right now, she doesn’t belong to us.’

‘Sorry?’ she said.

Langton gave a sigh. ‘The little girl isn’t ours. The local police called in the murder team for this area, so by rights it’s their case, not mine. We’re not allowed to take it unless we prove a connection. Fucking red tape! The arsehole in charge is a right little prick.’