6

Early sunlight filtered through weathered summer leaves. The last tang of night chill lent an exhilarating freshness. In the still of the garden it seemed possible to forget, momentarily, the drama that was playing out inside. Remnants of dew clung to the grass. Excellent: that would emphasise any tracks in the grass that had survived the night.

I made my way, pace by deliberate pace, from the front door to the back door, and then the forty metres or so down to the back fence. The whole time I scanned for any sign of the path Gaby might have taken. The lawn was clipped short and the dew-coated grass was a uniform carpet of green. It revealed no evidence of her passage. Perhaps things would be more obvious in the longer grass over by the fence. I pushed my way through the wall of agapanthus; droplets of water kindly transferred themselves to my trousers again. Damp trousers had become a regular feature of this whole business.

From where I stood at the fence, I could still clearly make out my tracks down to the river from last night. It stood to reason that Gaby’s would be evident too. I walked up and down the fence line several times and peered over at the other side, but there was no sign of Gaby’s journey. I could only suppose that if she had crossed early in the day the grass would have had time to hide her path.

What I needed to establish was when she had decided to kill herself. I checked my thoughts right there. Do not make assumptions, Shephard. What was my father’s mantra? Assume makes an ass out of you and me. Focus on the evidence to hand. The evidence to hand made it look as though Gaby hadn’t climbed down to the river here at all. Despite the possible time explanation, the fact my own tracks looked as if they’d been created by a small herd of elephants made the absence of hers a concern. Why wouldn’t she take the most direct route to the river? And if not here, where?

I turned around and leaned back on the fence to face the house. The view was unobstructed through to the laundry and back bedrooms. When I looked further afield, there was a clear line of sight to the neighbouring houses. They were distant, but easily visible.

Did she not want to be seen? Why would that matter?

The mindset of someone who had just undertaken to kill herself would be unpredictable, to say the least. You’d think she’d take the path of least resistance: that would be logical, drugs or not. I shook my head. Second-guessing Gaby Knowes made my brain ache.

‘What were you playing at, Gaby?’ I said aloud, and drummed a finger against my lips.