They stepped into the first floor hallway, the torchlight illuminating a row of doorways, a few of which stood open or lacked doors entirely. In the deep silence, Patrick’s ears whistled faintly, his tinnitus a war wound from attending too many gigs when he was younger. Nowadays, the silence reminded him of those loud, sweaty, exciting nights, and his older self wished he’d worn ear plugs or not stood so close to the amps.

‘I can’t believe that whoever took Izzy and Liam would bring them here. It has to be—’

Something shot out of a doorway and Carmella gasped, grabbing Patrick’s arm.

‘It’s just a rat,’ he reassured her.

The rodent paused on the path before them and sniffed the air before sauntering back into the flat.

Carmella laughed. ‘That scared the—’

Patrick grabbed her upper arm and put his finger to his lips. ‘Hear that?’

‘If you’re going to make some wisecrack . . .’

‘No, listen.’

They stood in the silence and Carmella cocked her head and stilled her breathing.

‘I can’t hear—’

‘There.’

She stared at him. ‘Oh my god.’

From somewhere above them, so faint it was barely audible, came a child’s cry. They paused for another few seconds, and it came again. Waaah.

‘It’s coming from one floor up,’ Carmella said. She took out her phone, the screen glowing in the darkness.

‘No. Let’s check it out first.’ He took a few slow steps back towards the stairwell, his partner just behind him.

‘It didn’t sound like a toddler,’ she said. ‘More like a baby. A newborn.’

‘That’s what I thought.’

‘What do you reckon?’ she whispered. ‘Some junkie mother who’s squatting here with a baby?’

‘We’ll know in a minute.’

They crept up the concrete steps to the next floor. The smell was even stronger up here, a blend of urine and damp and rotting food. A dog barked in the distance, but when it fell quiet the sound of the baby crying returned, closer this time.

Patrick pushed open the door, which squeaked like a squeezed mouse, and stepped through, shining the torch along the row of doors. They were all shut, except the third one along, which was slightly ajar. He took a deep breath, through his mouth, and trod as lightly as he could towards the door.

From within, he heard someone cough.

He looked back at Carmella, who had her phone out, ready to call for back-up at a moment’s notice.

Patrick went through the door, into a pitch-black entrance hall. There was a large hole in one wall. Something crunched beneath his feet and he shone the torch at the floor. A syringe. He gestured for Carmella to be careful.