The sobbing starts in earnest now and tears begin to flow down her cheeks. We give her a few minutes to get it out, nodding our sympathies when she glances our way.

‘Sorry about that,’ she whispers, looking slightly embarrassed.

‘Don’t be silly,’ I reply, before pressing on. ‘Linda, the reason we are here today is because we have some new information, we have been tracking Rory’s car. He has passed a traffic camera around this area a number of times, and we were wondering have you had any contact with him?’

She nods.

‘Yes, since Stan passed away, the house has gone into a bit of disrepair. After what happened with, with Anna,’ she stammers, ‘Rory got in touch to ask if he could come round and visit. When he was here, he offered to do a bit of DIY, fix a few bits. I was happy for him to do it, of course, and it was nice to have company, someone who loved Anna the same way I did.’

‘Did he stay here?’

‘No, I did offer, but he said he was staying in the city.’

‘Did he say where?’

She shakes her head.

‘He always seemed quite private, so I didn’t ask him. The only thing he said was that he had some business to attend to.’

I glance at Liam. The fact we know that he hasn’t returned to London for work casts a massive question mark over his head. And what business was he referring to? Actual business? Or murder? We need to find him as soon as possible to find out.

‘Linda, was Rory ever violent with Anna?’ I ask.

‘Only once that I know of, but she said they were both drunk,’ she adds, rushing to his defence. ‘They were very much in love, and he’s a lovely man. They were about to get married.’ She suddenly looks angry. ‘You don’t think he has got anything to do with it, do you?’

‘At this stage, we can’t rule anything out. Can you remember when he was last here?’

She thinks for a minute, mouthing the days. ‘Probably three or four days ago, he was supposed to finish up the garden. He’d just about done fixing the shed, but said he had broken a wrench and misplaced his hammer. He nipped out to get some new tools, and never came back. Every time I phone him, it goes straight to his voicemail.’

His hammer.

My professional mask slips and I can’t help but think what she must be going through; in the space of a few years she has lost her husband and now her only child has been murdered. Her world must feel like it’s been turned upside down, and now we’ve been pulled into her orbit and implied that the man she thought loved her daughter could be the man who wielded the blade.

I think about my own sorrow, about the overwhelming possibility of not being able to have children and consider for the first time that maybe it’s actually a blessing in disguise - the world can be a cruel place.