“Definitely. Text me in a few hours and let me know where you’re at.”

Left alone, she took out her phone, reminded of something else that had kept her tossing and turning through the early hours. Tahlia Mansoor’s photo was still open in her gallery, the phone’s screen smudged by her repeated efforts to enlarge or zoom in on the image, as if a clearer view of the school badge or the stitching on Tahlia’s blazer might somehow tell her where Tahlia was. As the screen timed out and locked itself, she pushed back her chair and headed for Major Crimes.

She found Ray first, sitting in his customary spot by the open window and blowing vape smoke through the crack.

“She’s in the loo,” he said, sending a sweet smell of cherries towards her. “You better get a wriggle on, though. She’s interviewing Galpin in ten.”

Knowing how long Steph could take touching up her makeup, Rosie went straight into the ladies’ toilet. As predicted, Steph was leaning over the sink, reapplying mascara in the cleaner section of the mirror. She spotted Rosie immediately, but the twirl of her brush never faltered.

“Admit it,” she said, setting the brush aside and uncapping a lipstick. “Your memories of this countertop are as fond as mine.”

Rosie followed her gaze to the space beside the sink, but that night alone with Steph in the office might as well have been a lifetime ago, and the mention of it evoked the emotional equivalent of a shrug.

“I need to speak to you about Tahlia Mansoor,” she said.

Steph rolled her lips together, evening the spread of dark red. “What about her?”

“I think there’s a possibility she might be able to identify Frank Galpin’s mother.” Rosie phrased the statement carefully, couching it in uncertainty in an attempt to placate Steph, but Steph slammed down her lipstick and turned to face her.

“I’m not having this discussion again, Roz.”

“Did you even bother to watch the video?” Rosie snapped, her mood as brittle as Steph’s. “That woman recognised Tahlia. You can see it clear as day in her reaction, which means there’s a chance they met face-to-face. We know what these arseholes are capable of, Steph. We need to find this kid before they do.”

“Who do you mean by we?” Steph asked. “There is no we. It’s my team working this case, and we’ll be spending the day interviewing Frank Galpin and Adrian Peel, not chasing after a girl who may have no connection whatsoever to the investigation.” She threw her makeup into its pouch and yanked the zip closed. “Shouldn’t you be out with the rest of your mob, filling sandbags or something?”

Rosie didn’t waste her breath on an answer. She walked out of the room and shut the door behind her.

* * *