I know it’s Rory.

I stand before the stone and stare.

It has started to drizzle again and the mist feathers my face as the wind blows. Droplets trickle down the lettering and the engraved dates:

MISHAL ALI

1971–2019

I remember. The name he called out at her as she lay there, dead – was that Mishal? There is something below it in what looks like Arabic lettering but could just as easily be South Asian. But it’s that name, Mishal, that stills me. She has a name. Whatever else he might have done to her, he didn’t bury that.

When I crouch to touch the stone, I notice how clean the grave itself is. There is a slab on the ground matching the headstone. But where the other graves are fringed in grass, this one isn’t. There is only bare soil, darkening in patches as the rain continues to fall. This grave is newly dug.

My head is spinning as I walk towards the path. There are gaps in my understanding of what has happened. I don’t know how exactly he has managed to bring her, Mishal, here. I don’t know whether it was money or influence or subterfuge. At least I know she is here, and I know who she is. I just don’t know what to do about it.

I make my way back to the Tube. In less than an hour I am walking up the road to Seb’s house. I have to do something about this but to understand what, I need to talk to someone about it. Opening up to Amit feels as though it has opened a sluice gate.

I haven’t told Seb about any of this and he has just let me be when I have been there with him, politely, as if to ask would have been an intrusion. He’s stayed out of my way, even though I have been living under his roof and in his clothes.

As soon as I knock on the door, I realise he won’t be home. It’s midday. He won’t be home for another two or three hours. But just as I turn away, I see shadows behind the glass of the front door. A beat later, the door opens.

‘Seb,’ I begin to say, ‘I didn’t think you’d be home.’

He is still in his work clothes, pink silk tie knotted tight. He hasn’t been home long. He gives me a serious look and puts a finger to his lips. I widen my eyes at him for an explanation.

He calls out to somewhere behind his shoulder. ‘Whoever it is, they’ve gone, Detective.’ He gives me a look that says go.

He is trying to help me evade the police, but I need to speak to them about what I have just learned.