Jackson Akers’ flat was in full line of sight to where Keira Bradley had been butchered, and they wanted to ask him what he’d seen. They also wanted to know why he’d been so busy around the estate on his bike earlier today. They headed towards Wordsworth Towers. The estate was fairly quiet, but word of the police presence was already getting round, and it seemed from what Will heard on the radio channel used for the evening’s events that people were doing the opposite of what Ormond had expected them to do: they weren’t staying indoors, they were coming out onto the streets and balconies and questioning the police directly. This called for a different skill set entirely, and Will could hear officers engaging in Q&A sessions. It was wholly unexpected.

On the balcony overlooking the spot where Keira had died, a group of people, all ages, bombarded Will and Liam with questions. They demanded justice for Keira, they asked why the rich white woman mattered more than a mixed-race one or a poor one. They wanted to know how the police were going to protect their community. Tension ramped up, but the two officers answered as best they could and calmly explained that they were visiting properties pertinent to their investigation. They made it clear that they were only interested in anyone not complying with the law.

‘Let ’em do their job.’

It was Sharon Bradley who spoke. The small crowd parted.

‘It’s Akers you want to see, ain’t it?’ she asked. The crowd looked from her to the cops. Silence descended.

‘We’re on our way to the address of Jackson Akers, yes, ma’am. We’re sorry about your daughter; we’re trying our best to get answers.’

‘He’s a good boy. Mind you don’t go too far with your interrogation.’

‘It’s simply important to our inquiries, ma’am.’

‘Pig.’ Spittle flew from nowhere and landed at Liam’s feet.

‘Now we’ll have none o’ that! Shut the fuck up and let ’em do their job, I said.’ Sharon’s authority overwhelmed the crowd again and they fell back. Will saw that more figures had appeared on the balcony. It seemed like half the estate was out.

‘I’m coming with yer,’ Sharon announced. Liam rolled his eyes. ‘I saw that!’ she admonished him.

She followed them to Jackson’s door and waited. After a few seconds, the door opened and Jackson registered his visitors and the people on the balcony.

‘You’d better come in,’ he said, nodding to the spectators.

‘Show’s over, give ’em some peace,’ Sharon instructed. ‘Guns, you want me to come in?’

‘Nah, Shaz, safe.’

Will and Liam entered the flat and Jackson closed the door behind them.

Chapter 18

Across the estate, a group of three uniformed officers banged on Tyrone Fenton’s door. No one was home.