“Three,” he said, absolutely deadpan.

She checked her fob watch and laughed. It was only ten o’clock.

* * *

“PC Jones!”

Rosie stopped so abruptly that her boots skidded on the loose gravel of the car park, her hand still outstretched with the key fob pointed and ready to zap. Kash had brought coffee and chocolate muffins, and they’d been looking forward to a good day of responding to whatever emergencies the folk of east Manchester might throw their way.

“So close,” she muttered. “We were so damn close, Kash.”

They waited for Steph to catch them up, her heels a terse drumbeat accompanying the start of another downpour. She was trying to shield her hair from the elements, but the wind was having none of it, and she swore at the mess it was making of her French twist. Rosie squinted at the storm clouds massing overhead, vast swirls of grey with white foaming at the edges like furious breakers. If someone had asked her to paint her mood, she’d have pointed upward.

“Did you not get my message?” Steph yelled, still a few feet away. “I told your sarge to hold you at the briefing.”

“Must’ve slipped his mind,” Rosie said. Steph was close enough now that Rosie didn’t have to shout. “A batch of new flood warnings came in at the last minute, and he had to reorganise everyone.”

“Well, I need you.” Steph gave her a printout. “That’s Tahlia Mansoor’s home address. Check if she’s there, and if she’s not, get as much information about her possible whereabouts as you can.”

“Are we both going?” Kash asked.

“No. Your sarge said he couldn’t spare you.” Steph held up a hand, pre-empting any dissent. “You’re to run solo for the shift.”

The colour rose in his face, but he said nothing. He balanced a muffin on top of Rosie’s coffee and passed them to her before striding back toward the station for a fresh set of keys.

“It’s your lead,” Steph said to Rosie. “I thought you’d be happy to follow up on it.”

“I’m ecstatic.” Rosie clicked the fob. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”

Steph caught her arm. “We could meet for lunch if you like. Your sarge doesn’t need to know. I can log it as a debrief.”

Rosie didn’t shake her off, but it was an effort not to. “Are you suggesting we bend the rules to suit ourselves, Detective?”

Steph’s tinkling laugh bore no humour in it. “Touché.”

Rosie folded the printout and slipped it into her stab vest. “I’ll phone you later.”

She was trembling when she got into the car, an insidious jittery sensation that made her drop her key and then over-rev the engine. She gripped the wheel, letting spots of rain blur the windscreen until Steph disappeared from view. Kash messaged her within minutes. You okay?