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She scrolled through them. Mary nodded. ‘I see. That is quite a quirk.’

The back yard was fully enclosed. It was surrounded by a high fence, and there was a canvas roof stretched across it.

Mary caught Joanie’s eye. ‘Almost like he didn’t want anyone to see inside. What the hell was going on in there?’

‘That’s what I thought,’ Joanie said. ‘Something to keep out prying eyes.’ She held up her hand. ‘But it turns out that’s not what it is at all. The realtor told me – he swore me to secrecy – but he shared the reason.’

‘And?’

‘It’s their daughter,’ Joanie said. ‘She has a condition’ – she swiped on her screen and pulled up a note – ‘it’s called erythropoietic protoporphyria, whatever that is. What it means is that she’s very sensitive to the sun. She also has some immune stuff going on which makes it worse. Anyway, Maine is one of the states that gets the least sun, and Barrow is one of the top cities in Maine for not getting much sunshine. And’ – she pointed out of the window – ‘this street runs east to west, and you’re on the south side of the street, so your back yards are often shaded. The perfect spot for them.’

‘Which is why they wanted this house,’ Mary said.

‘And why, in these last few days of summer, his wife and daughter haven’t been out much.’

‘So that’s it?’ Mary said. ‘That’s the explanation? Why’s Trent so weird, then?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe that’s just how he is. But there’s a reason for them moving here, Mary, and it isn’t you.’

So Trent was officially out of the running. Mary smiled. It looked more and more like Ben Cox was behind all of this.

Do Dogs Dream?

For the first night in what felt like an age, Mary slept well, so when Ryan shook her awake it took a few moments to come to her senses.

It was pitch black outside, so it must have been the middle of the night. Ryan put his finger to her lips.

‘Shhh,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t speak.’

The room was still dark – he had not put on a light – and she could barely make out his face. He reached for her phone on the nightstand, and handed it to her.

‘Get ready to call 911,’ he said. ‘I don’t know if you’ll need to, but just be ready.’

‘Ryan,’ she whispered. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I think,’ he said. ‘There’s somebody in the house.’

Mary was awake, fully awake, immediately, the spike of adrenaline putting her on full alert. This had happened in the past; there had been times when she had awoken in the night convinced she had heard someone creeping around the house. It had occurred most often when she was a single mom, alone in the house with Otis and Sally. Obviously, it was the result of her fears about whether she would be able to protect her children, but it was no less powerful for that. She would snap awake, sure that she had been dragged from sleep by a door shutting, and then lie in the dark listening intently for a creak on the stairs or the padding of surreptitious footsteps or an inadvertent cough or sniffle.

She had never heard one, but she would always get out of bed, go downstairs and check that every room was empty, and every door and window was locked or fastened.

In those days they had all been false alarms, but something was different this time, she was sure of it.

‘What did you hear?’ she whispered.

‘Wally,’ Ryan said. ‘He barked. Only a few times, but it was enough to wake me up.’

Wally barking; not some inconclusive, vague noise. The specific sound of their dog.

‘Did you hear anything else?’ Mary said, her voice low and tense.

‘I heard some movement,’ he said. ‘I’m pretty sure I heard someone in the kitchen.’

It was possible an intruder had given Wally a treat and persuaded him to be quiet, but for him to only bark a few times?

It seemed odd.

The sense that something was wrong grew more intense.