The thin path led to a driveway, which birthed a large, old-fashioned kind of house. Behind it, a large stable block was just about visible. A mutt that was almost identical to Milo was lounging on the porch swing. Being the shitty guard dog it was, it didn't even look up as we approached, snoozing on.

I had expected Blake to throw me into the shit jobs first but he led me through to the kitchen of the farmhouse. The inside looked like it was a spitback from the '80s, but something about it seemed so warm and cosy. Blake lifted the hat off his head, dumping it on the...