‘Is that Robin?’ A woman’s voice, tentative, young, the accent more Black Country than Birmingham, that shift in the vowels. ‘Tarryn gave me your number – I’m her friend.’

It took Robin a moment to put it together – oh. After what Tarryn had said, she’d held out very little real hope. ‘Yes, this is Robin. Hi.’

‘You’re not police, are you? Taz swore. I can’t talk to police.’

Robin pushed the door closed and lowered her voice, for what it was worth. ‘No, I’m not police.’

You’re a pimp.

‘She said if I spoke to you, you promised not to tell anyone.’

Robin grimaced. ‘Yes. I did.’

‘Or to find a way to tell them without them knowing it came from me. Because I really want them to know, they have to, but if he knew it was me …’

‘I understand. As I told Tarryn, I won’t do anything that could put you in danger.’

Silence except for her breathing.

‘You knew Shannon Harris?’ Robin said gently. ‘Who died.’

‘Yes.’

She waited for the woman to go on but she didn’t. She was clearly scared out of her wits. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘why don’t I come and meet you somewhere?’

‘Meet?’ Utter panic.

‘You could see me. That might help you know you can trust me.’

Silence again.

‘A couple of minutes, that’s all. You choose when and where,’ Robin reassured her. ‘I’ll come to you, wherever you feel safest. I’ve got a photograph I need to show you – if we meet, I won’t have to email or text you. You won’t have to give me your number.’

‘Okay.’ Her voice was barely audible. ‘Somewhere busy – Grand Central. There’s benches by platform six.’

‘I’ll find them.’

‘At nine?’

Robin glanced at the clock on the desk – just about possible.

‘How will I recognize you?’ the girl said.

‘You’ve got a smartphone? Google Robin Lyons – Lyons with a y – Daily Mail.’ The photograph would be spot-on today.

‘What? You can’t have anywhere to be without breakfast now,’ said Christine when Robin appeared in the kitchen doorway, jacket on. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Into town.’

‘You’re not going to the office? It won’t make any difference. She won’t change her mind, she told me.’

‘I’m not going to the office.’

‘Seeing a man about a dog, are you?’ said Dennis, all about the conflict-avoidance.

‘Something like that.’ As she passed to kiss Lennie goodbye, she squeezed his shoulder.