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Which took him by surprise. ‘Why ever not?’

Doyle didn’t respond.

‘Why not, Estelle?’ he repeated. ‘I need to see where it happened.’

‘I don’t want you seeing where my father lived,’ she said eventually.

‘Is it because he was poor?’ Bradshaw said. ‘Because Poe doesn’t care about things like that, do you, Poe?’

‘You do know I’ve seen photographs of his study?’ he said to Doyle. ‘And Elcid wasn’t poor, Tilly. Far from it; he was quite wealthy.’

‘I still don’t want you seeing where he lived, Poe.’

Poe didn’t understand. He knew he worked best when he’d seen everything for himself. When he had a visual image running in the background, day in, day out. Ruining his sleep. Doyle had known him long enough to know this. She wasn’t telling him something.

He folded his arms. ‘As soon as that crime scene’s released, I’m going inside.’

‘You’re a stubborn, stubborn man, Poe,’ Doyle sighed.

‘I’m not putting your future in the hands of some dipshit CSI photographer and an ambitious SIO. You’re the villain of their piece and they aren’t considering other explanations. And if they aren’t considering other explanations, that means the only things they photographed were the things that fit their narrative. I want to look at the things theydidn’tphotograph.’

‘But—’

‘I’ll be honest, Estelle,’ Poe cut in. ‘Tilly’s going to science the shit out of the positive firearms discharge residue test. By the time she’s finished rubbishing it, inmates on Florida’s death row will be filing appeals.’

‘There’s a point to this uplifting tale, I assume?’

‘Unfortunately there is.’

She tilted her head. Her lips curved in a quarter-smile.

‘We can’t explain how someone can cross fresh snow without leaving a footprint,’ Poe continued. ‘And that’s the whole ball game. If we can’t put someone else at the scene, we’re all going home.’ He replayed what he’d just said. Spotted his error. ‘Well, you won’t, obviously, but you get my point.’

‘And you think this conundrum will be defogged by your visit?’

He hesitated before answering. Lack of hope was a killer – literally – in prison, but he also needed to prepare her for what was likely to happen. They could knock down as many of the CPS’s buildingblocks as they wanted, but unless they explained away the foundation of their prosecution, Doyle was going to be convicted of her father’s murder. No ifs, no buts; it was happening. Poe chose his words carefully.

‘I know you didn’t shoot your dad, Estelle,’ he said. ‘And that means someone else did. That someone wasn’t in the house when the police arrived, and there’s no evidence to support him or her having left before you arrived. Unless Tilly can explain away the snow, there’s got to be something in the house that Northumbria have missed. And I won’t be able to find it by looking at photographs.’

‘And if you can’t find it?’

‘Then you’re spending the next twenty years in here.’

She took a silent moment then said, ‘Thank you, Poe.’

‘For what?’

‘Your honesty.’ Doyle faced Bradshaw. ‘So, Tilly,cansomeone walk across snow without leaving footprints?’

‘Legolas could,’ she said. ‘Humans can’t.’

They both looked at Poe. Doyle fought a smile.

‘Ha! I actually know that reference,’ Poe said. ‘He’s an elf inLord of the Rings. I read it at school.’

‘Yes, Poe. A Sindarin Elf from the Woodland Realm.’

‘Dork,’ he said.