We check the usual spots that are good for hiding things you want to keep hidden; under the bed, behind furniture and in drawers stuffed with clothes, but to no avail. Our task is made harder by the fact we don’t even know what we are looking for, or if there is even something to be found. But I have that feeling in the pit of my stomach that there is something to be uncovered in this room.

Frustrated and sweaty from the effort of the search, I take a seat on the bed and cast my eyes around the room. The brightly coloured film posters that line the room are varied in genre. Anna was seemingly a very talented actor and appeared in films ranging from period pieces to sci-fi epics. The framed posters are hung in regular intervals and are uniform in size. Except one.

The poster for Blood Ice is enclosed in a box frame that juts out roughly two inches from the wall. The frame, unlike the rest, has recently been moved. A layer of dust that has settled on the other posters has been disturbed on this frame; finger marks show that this frame has been of interest to someone recently. The frame also hangs at a slight angle.

I stand on the bed and unhook the frame, setting it face down on the bed. Small, metal teeth hold a backboard in place, to stop the poster from falling out. I dig my fingernails underneath each one and pull them vertical, and when the final one has been moved, the wooden backboard slips easily out of place.

A faded envelope is nestled behind the picture, stowed away from prying eyes. No-one but Anna was ever supposed to see this. I have an uneasy feeling as I peel back the flap and I can hear Liam’s breath quicken as he strains to get a good look over my shoulder as a card is revealed.

A pencil-thin woman is lying on a hospital bed, her leg held aloft and wrapped in a cast. She is looking angrily at a man who is slouched apologetically by her side. A speech bubble from the injured woman’s mouth says ‘Next time, just say good luck!’

I laugh at the good-natured card, obviously intended for Anna as she prepared for an audition, a new job, a big moment in her career. My laugh is cut short as I open the card and read the seven-word message scrawled inside.

One day, you’ll get what you deserve.

20

Dci bob fiddles with his tie as he welcomes and introduces the new officers in the room. The case, now with two murders and no progress on catching the killer, has been allocated more resources; more bodies, more feet on the street. He finishes his spiel, before giving me a nod that tells me it’s my turn in the spotlight.

As I make my way to the front of the room, I have a flashback to the last time I was in this position, almost three weeks ago on my first day back. My palms were sweaty and my tongue felt swollen and huge in my mouth. But today, I feel like a new woman. Or rather, that I’ve returned to the woman I once was.