Robin’s head slipped along the glass; she jerked awake. Ten past four – shit, she’d been out for at least twenty minutes. No wonder: the car was like the tropical house at Kew. She turned off the heater and opened the window, letting in a slap of cold air.

The view was doing nothing to keep her awake, either: a trading estate in Hockley; specifically, the warehouse where Michael Dixon, forty-two, was working a fifty-hour week packing shipments for an online electrical-parts supplier while also claiming Jobseeker’s Allowance. Allegedly. Hollow-cheeked and dull-eyed, his picture suggested he hadn’t had many lucky breaks in life. Maybe today was an exception: if he left work at four, as they suspected, she’d just slept right through it.

No missed calls. Good, at least she hadn’t been caught napping by Maggie, and she hadn’t missed Tarryn.

She’d left a message for her at lunchtime. When they’d spoken on Friday, the significant information seemed to be that Becca had stopped using, but now Robin wondered if she’d missed the point entirely. At least twice during the call, she’d had the impression, hadn’t she, that Tarryn was choosing her words carefully? She also remembered her relief when she’d said she was a private investigator. Her explanation had made sense – if the police weren’t involved, they didn’t know Becca was hurt – but she could think on her feet, she was clearly an intelligent woman. A bit of Internet research this morning had unearthed a history degree from the University of Sydney, and she’d been working in marketing for a big media group before she’d come travelling.

Becca trusted her; she was the only person they’d found in whom she’d confided about either Harry or the drugs. And Tarryn worked at The Spot.

The phone vibrated in her hand – was it her? No. Mum mobile.

‘Robin?’ Her mother sounded anxious. ‘Is Lennie with you?’

‘No. Weren’t you picking her up today?’ For a moment, she doubted herself – god, had she been supposed to? – but no, she remembered Christine telling Len she’d see her in the usual spot.

‘Yes, I was – I am. I’m outside school now but I’ve been here twenty-five minutes and she hasn’t come out. I’m parked where I always do, just round the corner.’

Robin thought of Friday afternoon, how she’d fled the place as if it was on fire. ‘Have you tried ringing her?’

‘Of course. There’s no answer.’

‘Did you leave a message?’

‘Yes but obviously she hasn’t replied or I wouldn’t be calling you, would I?’

‘Okay, sorry. Stay on and I’ll call her from my work phone. Just a minute.’ On the pay-as-you-go, she keyed in Lennie’s number. ‘It’s ringing,’ she said but then it stopped and went to voicemail.