Her boss stares down at her.

‘Ready?’ he asks.

‘Sure you want me to lead?’ Freya replies. Her voice wavers slightly. She wants to do this, but she’s aware of how much is riding on this interview. They have one shot. As soon as her suspicions are raised, Amy Miller will ask for a lawyer and it’ll be no comment from then on.

‘She won’t suspect you. Blonde hair, blue eyes, you’re the picture of innocence.’ He smiles, brief and flickering, then opens the door, holding it for her to go inside.

Amy looks up as they enter and sit down opposite. Her face is slightly confused, gaze shifting anxiously between Freya and her sergeant, waiting for someone to speak. She’s wearing an expensive-looking cream silk shirt, lace bra just visible underneath. Her diamond ring shines in the overhead light as she fidgets with the delicate silver pendant around her neck.

‘Thank you for coming in, Mrs Miller,’ Freya begins.

‘Amy, please.’

‘Amy.’ Freya forces a smile, willing it to seem natural. She hates this woman, and her anger sears like heartburn in her chest. ‘I know this may seem strange,’ she continues, ‘but we wanted to talk again. Confirm a few details before we wrap up our investigation.’

‘What do you need to know? I thought I gave you everything last time I was here.’ Freya watches as Amy glances to Robin, but her boss keeps his expression neutral.

‘Would it be possible for you to give us access to search the house?’ Freya asks, nerves flickering in her chest. She knows they don’t have enough for a warrant at this stage, and they are desperate to see what they can find.

‘The house?’ Amy’s face twitches. ‘Why? Jonathan was found in that hotel, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes, but we have some concerns around how he died. We’ll be quick and respectful, we promise. We’re just worried it might be suicide, and having a look around the house might help to rule that out.’ Freya leans forward, as if sharing a secret with Amy. ‘We know how awkward a verdict of suicide can get. With life insurance, and such.’

Amy’s brow furrows. ‘Life insurance, of course.’

‘Any excuse, and those bastards won’t pay out. So, you see, the sooner we can sort it, the better. For all concerned.’

‘Yes, of course.’

Butler slickly pushes the required paperwork towards Mrs Miller, followed up with a biro. Amy reads it for a second, then signs an elegant swirl at the bottom. He pulls it swiftly back into the file.

Amy Miller turns her large doe eyes to Butler. ‘Do you know when we might be able to bury him?’ she asks. ‘When will you…’

‘Release the body?’ Freya finishes for her. ‘We don’t know yet, unfortunately, Mrs Miller. As soon as we can.’