‘Khalid Riaz has confirmed that the photo on Twitter was an old one from months ago, and he’s willing to plead guilty to a count of preventing unlawful burial of a body if we take assisting an offender off the table.’

Freya knows Kal was released from the psychiatric unit this morning and attended an interview with another DS and his solicitor. He was a mess, full of remorse for hiding the murder of his best friend.

‘Do we know why she did it?’ Baker asks.

They found pregnancy tests and ovulation kits in the bathroom cabinet. And Riaz confirmed again how he’d slept with Amy, drunk, unprotected, same as she had at the swingers’ parties. Robin relays this to their DCI.

‘All this because she wanted to get pregnant?’ Baker replies, incredulously.

‘We think it was more than that, guv,’ Robin says. ‘We’ve learnt that her childhood was a mess, unpredictable, and we believe Amy was desperately trying to create a perfect life to compensate for that.’ Freya remembers the obsessively clean and tidy house, the diazepam Amy took for anxiety, the zopiclone to help her sleep. ‘So when Jonathan Miller couldn’t get her pregnant, it tipped her over the edge.’

‘Well, let’s leave the amateur psychology here, shall we,’ Baker replies. ‘We know for sure Jonathan Miller had a healthy life insurance policy. Money is a motive I can properly get behind. A cool million, right?’

Robin nods.

‘Good. Plus you’ve wrapped up the criminal damage cases, too?’

Freya listens as Robin outlines the evidence returned from the beer cans at the vandalised houses. At last, they had a hit on the system – to prints taken from the note thrown through the broken window at fifty-six Wellington Crescent. They were expected to belong to David Franklin, son of Bethany Franklin, organiser of the swingers’ club. A fifteen-year-old kid, in with the wrong crowd, now terrified and confessing to what him and his mates have been up to, sitting in an interview room a few floors down, his mother by his side.

She feels sorry for the boy, and knows Robin blames himself. Maybe if he’d arrested him at the time of the original smashed window incident he wouldn’t be in the trouble he is today. But Freya can’t worry about that. She has bigger things to think about.

Robin finishes talking, and Baker looks happy.

‘Now,’ Baker asks, leaning back, clearly satisfied their conversation is nearly over, ‘is there anything else I should know?’

Freya doesn’t move. She feels her boss’s gaze on her face, and she remembers what happened Friday night.

Freya looks frantically from the sleeping Amy to Robin. She didn’t think it would actually work. She didn’t think it would happen this quickly. Robin’s staring at her.

‘What did you do?’ he hisses.