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While they waited for Nathan to return with his course material, Poe tried to make small talk with Virginia, aware he had been unnecessarily rude earlier. And he’d make sure she understood the NCA complaints procedure before they left.

‘Where did you meet Nathan?’ he asked.

‘At church,’ she replied. ‘We’ve been married eight years now, and I think it’s been a successful union. We haven’t been blessed with children, but that’s OK, the Lord has a different path for us.’

‘You sound like an intelligent woman, Mrs Rose,’ Poe said, ‘so I won’t insult you by telling you what you undoubtedly already know – conversion therapy has been widely discredited. It’s been condemned by the medical profession and even the Church says it’s unethical, harmful and not supported by evidence.’

‘I’m aware it is intrinsically flawed.’

‘So why—?’

‘Nathan’s family were on the verge of disowning him, Sergeant Poe,’ she said. ‘I know his therapy didn’t work, his family knows it didn’t work and he knows it didn’t work. But because Cornelius provided him with a plausible explanation: that he wasn’t gay, he had simply been projecting his feelings, it gave everyone the chance to step back from the edge. To pretend it had all been a misunderstanding. So Nathan still sees his parents and he’s still welcome at church. His therapy might not have worked, but it gave him back what was most important to him.’

‘Marriage was a way of emphasising this?’ he said.

‘It was.’

Poe didn’t know how to respond. ‘I suppose sometimes there are no good options,’ he said eventually.

‘Ask your question, Sergeant Poe.’

‘What question?’

‘You want to know what I get out of a mixed-orientation marriage,’ she said.

Poe shrugged. ‘I suppose I do.’

‘You aren’t the first person to ask, and you won’t be the last. The answer is straightforward – Nathan and I had been going to the same church for a long time. I could see how unhappy he was, how people he had grown up with avoided his handshake when we passed the Peace. I was unmarried, lonely, and lived in this big house. I had little chance of marrying for love, so I did the next best thing.’

‘Which was?’

‘Have you read the “Parable of the Lost Sheep”, Sergeant Poe?’

‘Not recently,’ Poe admitted.

‘It’s about a shepherd who leaves his flock of ninety-nine sheep to find the one that has strayed. It’s been interpreted as meaning the recovery of sinners, but I’ve always thought that was a bit too . . . exact. I prefer the wider interpretation that it refers to any lost human.’

‘Nathan was a lost human?’

‘And a good one. I love my husband, Sergeant Poe, and he loves me. Yes, it’s a sexless marriage, but according to the research I’ve read, a lot of traditional marriages are too.’

Poe studied her again. This time he looked beyond the puritanical, wannabe witchfinder facade and saw a good woman who just wanted what was best for her husband. And while their life was undoubtedly a struggle at times, at least they were struggling through it together. Which reminded him: Estelle Doyle was at Herdwick Croft waiting for him. He would see what Nathan had stored in the loft and then he’d leave the Roses alone. If there was something to follow up, he’d get one of Superintendent Nightingale’s cops to do it. He’d done enough damage for one night.

‘Your husband’s taking a long time, Mrs Rose,’ he said.

She glanced at the stairs. ‘Yes, he is. I’d better go and check he’s—’

A sudden, ear-splitting bang stopped her mid-sentence. It sounded like a car had crashed through the roof and landed on a drum kit. Poe and Virginia Rose looked at each other, then looked up. Flakes of paint floated down from the ceiling. There were a few seconds of residual clattering then nothing but ominous creaking.

‘Oh shit,’ Poe said, racing for the stairs.