They both knew what she wanted to ask. Ridley took over.

“It’s possible, based on physical description, that the body found in Rose Cottage could be your husband. And we are treating the death as murder.”

Susan couldn’t get her head round why Mike might have been in Rose Cottage in the first place. She couldn’t think that he had any connection to the place, and this led her to hope that the poor, unfortunate dead man wasn’t her husband at all. Ridley understood that denial is about self-preservation at times of emotional distress, so he didn’t try and dissuade her. From here on, Susan’s demeanor became practical as she spoke about Mike as though he was very much alive, and just missing.

“Mike hasn’t lived here for almost a year, and he does go AWOL quite often, but he’s always in touch with me or the kids every couple of days, even if it’s just a text message. That stopped about a week ago, which is why I called you in the first place. I’ll write down the addresses of his flat and his office for you. They’ll no doubt be in a terrible state, so apologies for that. The office is in a sort of compound shared with other units. There’s a warden who can let you in. It was one of the first places I went actually, when Mike stopped texting. The warden hasn’t seen him since last Wednesday. I’ve got a spare key to Mike’s flat if you want to go there as well. Please be careful. I mean . . . I don’t want him to think he’s been burgled.”

Whether or not Susan actually still loved Mike wasn’t clear but, as she bowed her head and turned her back, it was obvious that the possibility of him being dead was very upsetting.

“Take anything you need,” Susan muttered.

And then she jogged up the stairs to fetch Mike’s flat keys.

The lounge fell silent. Ridley saw Anik open his mouth at least two or three times to speak, and then think better of it. He was clearly the kind of person who was very uncomfortable with silence; Ridley wanted to train this out of him because police work was more about listening and looking than it was about talking.

“What do you think of the house?” Ridley asked.

“Smart, yeah.” Ridley turned to Anik, who instantly knew that his answer had missed the point. Then the penny dropped. “Mike Withey was a DC. I couldn’t afford this house in a month of Sundays, so how could he?”

Ridley’s slight smile told him that was the right answer.

Susan came back into the lounge carrying a single front door key and two scraps of paper. One was the address of Mike’s flat and the other was a scrappy-looking business card with the unimaginative name “Withey Security.”

“This is Mike’s current mobile number?”

Susan nodded.

Ridley moved and stood in front of a wall of family photos, showing Mike and Susan with two girls at varying ages, from babies to young women.