Quarter to six, ten to. Was Tarryn coming? If she was around, surely she would be – she’d just had a break, how much more time off could she have? But then, if she was, why hadn’t she replied to Robin’s messages? In the twenty minutes between emailing Alan Nuttall and getting his response, her lack of contact, the absence of any new Instagram posts, had seemed more and more significant. But maybe she’d resigned, Robin had reasoned. She was travelling, wasn’t she, and that’s what you did – stayed somewhere for a little while, moved on. She hadn’t mentioned it when they spoke but why would she, it was none of Robin’s business. Maybe she’d had some kind of family emergency back home in Australia. Or maybe she just wasn’t very well – maybe she had a cold.

When Shannon Harris was identified, the sense of unease had dissipated, but now, as Robin waited, it started to creep back. Six o’clock – five past. Where was she? She was almost startled when a minute later, she glanced up and saw Tarryn under the trees in the pedestrianized area, walking at speed. Relief, followed by the usual weird disconnect between seeing someone you’d never met but looked at in scores of pictures. It was like seeing someone famous. Before she could get any nearer The Spot, Robin strode across the street and put out a hand. ‘Tarryn?’

She stopped, frowning. ‘Yes?’

‘I’m Robin, we spoke on Friday on the phone. I’ve left you several messages – I was starting to worry.’

‘Why?’

Robin was confused for a second. ‘Becca’s missing – I thought …’

‘Oh. Jeez, sorry. No, I’m fine. But I’m late – my shift started at six, I’m not changed.’

‘I’ll be quick. Why didn’t you reply to my messages? Are you avoiding me?’

‘No, of course not. No.’ She pressed her phone, lighting the screen. 6.07. ‘Look, I’ve really got to go.’

‘A woman was found dead this morning, Tarryn. Murdered. I thought it might be you.’

‘What? Why?’

‘I checked with the police – I even sent them your picture.’

‘But she was a prostitute.’

Robin stopped. She frowned. ‘How do you know that?’

‘What?’

‘How did you know she was a prostitute?’

‘I …’

‘That information hasn’t been made public yet.’

Tarryn looked down the street as if she was thinking about making a run for it. Robin grabbed her arm. ‘That woman was someone’s friend. Someone’s daughter, just like you are. If you know something, tell me.’

She glanced round then focused on Robin’s face, eyes narrowed. She was trying to gauge her, get her measure.

‘Can I trust you?’ she said. ‘How can I be sure?’