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‘Yes, please, Poe.’

Poe turned on the tap and stared out of the window while he waited for the water to get nice and icy. When you drew it directly from the ground like he did you kind of got spoiled when it came to meat locker-cold water.

A bunch of starlings flew in and settled on the largest tree in the garden. It was stripped of foliage and colour, little more

than a skeleton. Winter was the comma in the year. It stripped the land of colour and joy but without it there would be no spring – the plants and trees needed time to rest.

There was nothing wrong with helping the animals through the colder months, though. He did it at Herdwick Croft by leaving out bacon rind and Rebecca did it here with fat balls. Poe watched as a starling hung upside down and pecked at one. Before long there was a mass of feathers and confusion as ten more joined it.

A wood pigeon flew in and landed on the edge of the stone birdbath. It pecked in vain at the solid ice, desperate for something to drink.

At the solid ice …

Poe straightened.

He knew how Rebecca had been abducted.

Chapter 17

Each morning for the last month, Poe had needed to unfreeze Edgar’s outside water bowl. At Herdwick Croft he brought it inside and put it under the hot tap.

Rebecca Pridmore didn’t have a dog bowl. But she did have a birdbath. A stone birdbath that would freeze solid every night just as Edgar’s water bowl did. And no way was she bringing that inside – it had probably taken two strong men just to site it. She’d have taken the hot water to it.

She’d have taken her kettle to it.

Every morning.

Poe imagined she boiled it, poured some into her cafetière, and then took the rest outside. He doubted it would take more than five minutes but it would be five minutes when she’d have been vulnerable. If someone was aware of one of the few routines she had, they could lie in wait and grab her when she stepped outside. And in a garden with such high walls, no one would witness it.

If he was right, the kettle was still in the garden.

‘I’m popping outside, Tilly,’ he said.

He found it immediately. One of the advantages of a garden stripped of its greenery was that things were easier to find. The kettle was in a small shrub near the birdbath. It was stainless steel and half-dome-shaped. An old-fashioned one that would sit on the Aga.

Poe thought Rebecca had probably dropped it when the killer grabbed her. If it had been early in the morning he could have easily missed it in the dark.

He looked back into the bungalow. Sparkes had returned. He was talking to Bradshaw. Poe thought he’d better get back in before she showed him how to log onto the site showing where the UK’s Continuous at Sea Deterrent submarines were.

‘Mr Sparkes, while Tilly is busy can you give me a hand with something?’ Poe said when he walked back into the main room.

The MoD man looked at him quizzically but followed him outside onto the front drive.

‘I need a favour,’ Poe said. ‘I’m going into the back garden. Can you go and stand on the other side of the road and let me know if you can see me? If you can’t, move position until you can.’

Sparkes’s extra height was a bonus. If he couldn’t see Poe then the chances were no one could.

Poe let himself into the back garden then walked to the birdbath. He pottered around it for about the time he figured it would take to fill it with water then returned to the back door. He repeated the process until Sparkes had had enough time to observe him from more than one position.

The back door opened and Sparkes joined Poe at the birdbath. His knees were wet and his shoes were muddy.

‘Anything?’ Poe asked.

‘Nothing. From the main road the front wall obscures most of everything unless you’re facing the driveway, and even then you can only see the bungalow. You can’t see the back garden at all.’

‘What about through the windows?’

Sparkes shook his head. ‘No, the building’s raised. All you can see is sky and the tips of the two taller trees. I walked across the road and into the farmer’s field. Held a straight line all the way to the river. At no point can you get high enough to see anything other than the bungalow’s roof. If she was observed in her garden, it wasn’t from the front.’