doors wide. It was floor-to-ceiling height and there was shelving on one side full of board games, jigsaws, DVDs that were probably no longer used. There was also a space big enough for someone to hide in.
Morgan lifted a rolled-up duvet off the floor. ‘Look, that looks like the carpet in the photo.’
There was the smallest square of carpet sticking out from underneath the shelves. ‘Maybe the killer left something behind from all those years ago. It’s worth a shot: this and the duvet need to go to the lab to be tested.’
Ben smiled. ‘Thanks, boss, I’ll bear it in mind.’
‘Sorry, not telling you what to do. Just thinking out loud, and there is a loft hatch, look.’
Ben stared up at the small square in the ceiling. ‘Not a very big hatch, is it?’
‘Bet I could get through it.’
‘Well you can try, but first we need to bag this stuff up. Do you want to go get the evidence sacks out of the car while I photograph it?’
‘What about Wendy?’
‘If you find anything up there, we’ll ask her to come out and take over.’
She rushed to get the bags. When she got back Ben was taking an assortment of photos and videoing the cupboard on his work phone. She held the bags open, and he stuffed the duvet inside one. She opened another, he bent down and tugged the small carpet square from the floor, dropping it inside.
‘Ladder?’
‘There’s one in the garage.’
Morgan went to retrieve the stepladder and carried it back. She was out of breath. The paper suit she was wearing was like a mini sauna and she could feel her blouse sticking to her back.
Ben positioned it, handed her a torch and said: ‘You’re on, there’s no way I’ll fit through that hole.’
She began to climb the ladder, her palms slick with perspiration and her heart beating too fast. She needed to stop watching ghost-hunting programmes if they were turning her into a nervous wreck. Trying not to let Ben see how scared she was, she forced herself to continue until she reached the hatch.
‘Can you see any prints on it?’
‘Nothing obvious.’
Her throat was dry, so she nodded. Then pushed the hatch. It swung upwards and landed with a loud bang on the attic floorboards. The space up there was blacker than she’d expected. Pressing the button on the torch, she stepped onto the final rung of the ladder, putting her head and shoulders through the opening. Lifting an arm, she shone the torch around and let out her breath. There was no homicidal maniac waiting with a sledgehammer to bash her brains in.
‘Boxes, it’s just cardboard boxes.’ She said this to herself, calming her nerves.
‘Take a good look around. Can you get up there? Is the floor boarded? If it’s not, don’t put yourself at risk.’
Pulling herself up, she clambered inside. The floor was boarded and felt pretty secure. It was a big space. Her heart was still racing but she took a step inside. Shining the torch around, the beam landed on a wooden baseball bat propped in the far corner, leaning against the side of the roof. As she lowered the beam she realised the end of it was dark brown; stepping closer she saw strands of hair stuck in the brown stuff and realised it was blood.
Rushing back to the hatch, she shouted down to Ben.
‘I’ve found it; I think I’ve found the Potters’ murder weapon.’
‘Bloody hell, well done. I’ll phone Wendy now; I need you to retrace your steps and get out of there without disturbing anything.’
Morgan didn’t need to be told twice. Lowering herself back onto the ladder, she began to climb down as fast as she could. Ben grabbed her waist, lifting her off the bottom. She turned around and he high fived her.
‘Well done, we’ll make a detective out of you yet.’
Smiling, she didn’t say anything. She couldn’t tell him how scared she’d been up there in the dark on her own. She left him standing outside the cupboard on the phone to the CSI department and went outside. She needed fresh air. She felt as if she was suffocating in this paper suit which was now drenched with fear-filled sweat.
Stepping out of the door, she tugged off the hood, unzipped the top and pulled it off. Her hair was stuck to her head and her blouse was damp.
The huge oak tree where Olivia, and now Harrison, had hanged themselves from was the first thing her eyes fell on. Above