Monday morning was refuse day and the only sign of life was from the bin men. A freezing fog had rolled in off the Thames and it clung to the concrete buildings, making everything look unfamiliar. The rain had finally been replaced with a fine drizzle and mist. At the 7 a.m. meeting in the task-force room, Sam was pushed to the front of the group of officers. She knew the inspector’s reasoning–as a woman she was seen as less of a threat. Nonetheless, she felt like a sacrificial lamb. The boss decided on a two-pronged attack. Two groups of officers would go to the Milne and Smith households at the same time, Sam and her colleague for Milne, another two for the Smiths.

‘This place fucking stinks.’ Constable Williams took a deep breath as he stepped into the lift. The Milnes lived on the tenth floor and, unfortunately, the lift was working. Sam followed her colleague’s lead and walked in on tiptoe, careful to avoid the pool of urine swilling around the floor. The lift was slow, clunky and jerky, and they were forced to take several more shallow breaths before they reached their stop. To Sam’s relief the doors opened, and they staggered out. The air quality on the landing was a marginal improvement. Eight flats shared a landing. The tenants had their names on the door, and ‘Milne’ was written on lined paper and stuck with sticky tape to the outside. Kate Milne answered the door on the tenth ring. Nervously, Sam Jones held up her badge and identified herself.

‘This is about that kid, right?’ Kate Milne snapped. Her thin greasy hair was wound so tightly around some outsized rollers that the skin on her forehead was stretched, giving her a surprised expression. She wore a dirty, pale blue nightshirt with a teddy bear on it, hiding her bulk. Her pink furry slippers were discoloured round the edges, and she had a homemade ink tattoo on the back of her hand. The writing was poor but Sam assumed it was the name of some long-lost love. Maybe Kevin’s dad.

‘That’s right, Mrs Milne,’ said Sam. ‘We want to ask a few questions about Matthew Cook. Can we come in?’

Kate Milne ignored Sam’s request and hung on so tightly to the front door it creaked. Her eyelashes were clogged with last night’s mascara but Sam knew she had spotted PC Williams when she started fluttering them grotesquely in his direction. ‘I heard you were going door-to-door round the flats,’ Kate Milne smiled at Williams. ‘Have you been at it all night?’ she asked with a wink.