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would even need to recall Matthew to look at a third body.
    The SOCOs were a pleasure to watch, she decided, moving carefully around the room, already using grid maps to indicate where each specimen had been taken from. A couple were lifting fingerprints from the glass porch, two others bagging up the furniture covers, the rug from in front of the grate. Even the telephone was being shuffled into a plastic bag. But her work wasn’t in here but outside where the officers were assembled, waiting for their primary briefing.
    She stood on the steps of the Incident Unit and spoke quietly to Mike. ‘Change of plan, Korpanski. The sister is missing and there’s a next-of-kin living almost next door. We’d better visit her before she gets wind of this from elsewhere.’
    Then she faced the waiting officers. ‘The farmer, Aaron Summers and his son, Jack, were found just after ten o’clock this morning by the milk-tanker driver. Both had died of gunshot wounds at some time around six a.m. A shotgun, owned by Mr Summers, was found nearby. Also resident here is Ruthie Summers, daughter and sister of the deceased. This is a big farm with a lot of land to cover. We have to search every inch of it for any evidence linking the killer to the crime. Detective Sergeant Korpanski and I will start in the house. OK, Mike ...?’
    He nodded.
    â€˜DC Brown, I want you to take a team and go through the barns, the sheds and all the other outhouses. We’ll start there. If we do not find Ruthie Summers we’ll have to widen our search to include the surrounding fields and hedgerows. I, um.’ She swallowed. ‘I very much want her found.’
    There was no need to underline the implications.
    â€˜I don’t have to remind you this is a double murder already. Be vigilant and don’t miss anything, please.’ Someone had to ask it. ‘What if she isn’t in the house or in the barns or anywhere around?’ Joanna took a good long look at WPC Dawn Critchlow’s flushed face. ‘You mean if she’s vanished? Well somebody pulled the trigger. Put it like this. We would be very anxious to talk to her.’
    The ground floor of the farmhouse was surprisingly large with numerous small rooms leading off a dark corridor to the left. Maybe once they had been dairies, cooling rooms, stills or pantries. Now they were all storerooms for various bits of equipment. And each time she threw open a door she expected to find the missing girl.
    But downstairs there was nothing.
    Outside she could hear the men shouting to each other as they systematically searched the outhouses and barns. But the shouts contained no excitement of discovery.
    So the work continued.
    As she and Mike returned to the main living room the bodies of the two men were being moved into the mortuary van and their shapes outlined in chalk, each pool or splash of blood carefully numbered. The SOCOs in their white suits were still deftly sellotaping samples and transferring them to glass slides. They all knew how meticulous this work must be if they were to secure a conviction through forensic evidence.
    One of the SOCOs called her over. ‘Take a look at this, Inspector.’ He was pointing to the chalked outline where Aaron Summers had lain. ‘He was lying on this.’ The rug was faded red and grubby, heavily stained and marked, threadbare and in the centre was a large, circular burn.
    â€˜Recent?’
    The SOCO shook his head. ‘But not that old,’ he said. ‘At a guess it was probably done about a month ago. In fact,’ he said, dropping the rug back and straightening up, ‘there are a few burn marks just in this room.’
    â€˜Someone careless with a cigarette?’
    He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. There’s no smell of smoke in here and we’ve found no evidence of either cigarettes or ash in this room. I don’t think any of them smoked.’
    Joanna looked