Will climbed the steps slowly, deliberately, waiting for any one of them to creak – a signal to run from the house. But they made no noise.

As he reached the landing a face came into view, one he expected. The portrait, crudely painted in acrylics, hung at the head of the stairs. It was of Eva, but Will only knew that because he had seen Eva pose for it and seen Dan make the childish brushstrokes.

But there was a stroke on it that Dan hadn’t painted.

A hand print, and a thick red streak, smeared across the figure.