They both get out of the car and walk slowly towards the house.

At the door, Robin turns to Freya. ‘You sure you want to do this?’ he asks.

‘Yes,’ she replies, and reaches for the doorbell.

As it rings, he feels a flutter of worry ball in his stomach. They wait, hear footsteps, then the door opens.

Amy Miller stands in front of them.

She’s wearing jeans and a casual T-shirt, but it looks expensive, ironed and crisp. Her hair is perfectly in place, her make-up precise and natural.

She glares at them.

‘What do you want?’

‘We need to talk to you,’ Robin starts.

‘This is police harassment. I’ve done all the talking I wanted to yesterday. You know you can’t ask me anything now, not without my lawyer present.’

‘We know. This is about the break-in next door.’

‘I didn’t hear anything. I was asleep.’

‘Not even the front window smashing?’

‘No.’ She pauses. ‘I took sleeping pills last night. I thought I’d need them, after my traumatising day in the hands of the police.’

They all stare at each other. Then a look of disgust crosses Amy’s face and she goes to close the door.

‘You missed something, Amy,’ Freya says. Amy stops. ‘You thought you were careful, but not enough. We found it.’

Robin takes a sharp breath in. He glances across to Freya – the anger is clear on her face and he can tell all previous good intentions have disappeared.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Amy snaps. Robin knows he should pull Freya away, but he can see her words are getting to Amy. She’s curious. Her arrogance won’t let her believe her plan hasn’t worked.

‘Let us in and we’ll tell you about it.’

‘You’re bluffing.’

Freya shrugs. ‘Fine. We’ll see you and your solicitor at the station tomorrow. And tomorrow, we’ll make sure you’re charged with murder.’

Robin watches Amy hesitate. Then she opens the door wide, turning and walking through to the living room. They follow her, and as they go Robin looks into the kitchen. It’s spotless, as it always has been. Draining board empty and gleaming, counters clear, except for a small white package sitting on the side. Robin recognises it as a bag from a pharmacy, no doubt replacing the prescribed drugs they seized. He gets a small flare of satisfaction knowing they’ve inconvenienced her, even by a tiny amount.

He follows Freya into the living room. Amy waits, perching on the edge of the sofa, watching them, poised. He slowly sits down opposite her, next to Freya.

‘So? What amazing proof do you have? I know you have nothing else from that camera, because you would have used it already.’