Jane reached over to the back seat of the car and picked up her briefcase. Midilah flinched, as though she felt Jane was going to assault her.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jane said, gently tapping her shoulder. She removed the photograph of Yasmin from the envelope in her briefcase. Midilah was pressed against the side of the passenger door as Jane held the photograph in front of her.

‘Have you seen this picture of Yasmin before?’

Midilah gasped and reached for the handle of the car door.

‘I have to go. You have now made me very afraid that my father will find out that I have spoken with you. I am begging you not to speak about this with him. You have no idea of what could happen to me,’ she said.

Jane slid the photograph – now one hundred percent sure it was Yasmin – back into the envelope.

Midilah pulled the door handle, then turned towards Jane. Her eyes were brimming with tears.

‘You do not understand. Yasmin was far more beautiful than that photograph, but she was also the sweetest, most generous child, with dreams that she would never be allowed to fulfil. Her disobedience was shameful to the family.’ Midilah opened the passenger door and hurried away.

By now it was almost 4 p.m., and Jane, afraid she would miss Elliott’s call, drove back to her flat. She had only been at home twenty minutes when Dabs called. He explained briefly that Elliott had managed to acquire an obo van and one of the best tech guys to wire Jane up. She would be collected at six the following morning.

Jane took a deep breath. ‘Are you going to be there, Dabs?’

‘No, afraid not. This has all been very hush-hush, and to be honest, I just want to get on with my life.’

There was a pause. ‘Tell him I’ll be ready.’

She quickly replaced the receiver, not wanting Dabs to say anything more. She had heard his concern for her in his voice. She lit a cigarette and began pacing her small kitchen. All she wanted now was to confront Murphy.

*

Jane left her flat at 8 p.m. and drove towards the Winstanley Estate. In the darkness, the run-down building seemed ominous. She felt nervous, not just because she was on her own, but because she was aware it was against regulations. She knew if she didn’t get some answers, she could be in real trouble.

She rang the doorbell and waited. Eventually it was opened cautiously by Farah Fareedi, the obligatory lock chain still attached.

‘Farah, it’s Detective Tennison again. I really need to talk to you. I am by myself and have no other officers with me.’

Farah’s dark eyes seem to bore into Jane as she hesitated before slowly sliding the key chain free.

‘Are you alone?’ Jane asked.

Farah nodded. ‘My sister has gone to help my husband Ameer package the meat for the deep-freeze section.’