Keeping to the shadows she started to make her way along the alleyway, finger poised over the button on her phone. As she drew nearer it suddenly struck her that confronting the man in such a narrow location with no real means of escape other than the way she had come probably wasn’t the wisest of decisions. Fortunately the man was far too engrossed in what he was doing to notice her approach.

She reached the end of the alley and ducked down behind one of the huge plastic bins that the man had pushed to one side. The entire recycling area was bathed in the sickly yellow glow from half a dozen sodium lamps at the perimeter. Unfortunately the light just served to cast the man’s face in shadow, and if her photo was going to be of any use then she needed a clear shot of him.

She was about to manoeuvre her way around to the far side of the recycling bin to try and find a better angle for her photograph when there was the pattering of claws and something warm and furry scampered over her exposed toes.

She jerked backwards, clasping her hand over her mouth to stifle the scream that would give her away, but her elbow caught the edge of the bin and it rolled forwards on clattering castors.

At once the man’s torch swung in her direction and there was a panicked cry of alarm. ‘Who’s there? Who is that?’

With a groan, Chantelle realised that she recognised the voice from the television. It was that podcast guy that Dorothy had been going on about this morning. The guy from the documentary. What was his name? Kim Fortune or something …

She stepped out from behind the bin, shielding her eyes from the dazzling torch beam with her arm. ‘Stop shining that thing in my face!’

‘Who are you?’ Kim Fortune lowered the torch and came bustling forward, his initial surprise rapidly turning to irritation. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘What am I doing here?’ growled Chantelle. ‘I live here, mate, you’re the one who needs to explain what they’re up to.’

Kim puffed himself up importantly. ‘I’m conducting vital research.’

‘Research? Poking around in the recycling bins. What do you expect to find? Little green men getting rid of their kitchen waste?’

Kim glared at her. ‘There have been reports—’

‘Yeah, I know there have been reports,’ Chantelle interrupted. ‘Most of them about some idiot with a torch poking around where he shouldn’t be, disturbing people’s sleep!’

Kim looked so crestfallen that Chantelle immediately softened her tone.

‘Look, you’re freaking people out, OK? You don’t want anyone to start thinking that you are involved with the disappearances of those girls, do you? Besides, I don’t think Dorothy is going to be too happy with you trampling all over her patch.’