We were led to a small room, devoid of any character or redeeming features. A white MDF table sat in the middle, surrounded by eight office chairs, some of which had clearly seen better days. Strip lights overhead buzzed to life as we took our seats; the only natural light in the room came from several small windows high on the walls on the right-hand side of where we were sat. None of them big enough to make any real difference to the dank feel of the place, no matter how hot and bright it was outside.

‘Can I get you a tea or coffee?’ Constable King asked.

‘No vodka on offer?’ Julie asked with a nervous laugh, but the way she was behaving I’d say she’d quite happily accept one if it were.

‘Sadly not,’ Constable King said. ‘Just tea or coffee. And if I’m honest, the coffee here is pretty disgusting. I’d stick with the tea, if I were you.’

We agreed we would and she went to fetch it, leaving Julie and I alone in the room.

‘What information do you think she has?’ Julie asked.

I shrugged. God only knew. All we’d been told before was that they were examining a number of lines of inquiry. It could be anything.

Julie drummed her fingers on the table. ‘Have you thought about it much, Rachel? Not just Clare, but those flowers? Laura? Do you think …’

Before she could finish her sentence, the door opened and DI Bradley walked in, carrying a folder and looking very much like a man on a mission.

He sat down opposite us and smiled. It should have been reassuring, but I didn’t feel especially reassured. Constable King followed just after carrying two Styrofoam cups filled with tea so strong you could stand a spoon up in them. I sat mine on the table in front of me. I was too nervous to drink.

‘Thanks for coming in. I hope we haven’t put you to any trouble,’ DI Bradley said. ‘I’m sure you appreciate that we’re all trying to get this man behind bars as soon as possible.’

‘You said you wanted us to go through some information or something?’ Julie said, fidgeting with a thread hanging loose from the hem of her T-shirt.

‘Well, you know we’ve been having difficulties tracing Ms Taylor’s digital footprint. We didn’t find her phone, her laptop or any tablet in her flat, or in her car. We were able to trace her phone records, but they didn’t throw up anything out of the ordinary. There weren’t any numbers she called or messaged repeatedly, apart from both of yours. This sounds like a strange thing to ask, but do either of you know if there was any possibility she may have had a second phone?’

I shook my head. ‘I wouldn’t think so, certainly not one that I knew of.’