Bloom knew he was referring to Seraphine. He’d liked her, maybe even loved her, and she’d hurt him pretty badly. She’d tricked him, and Jameson didn’t like being tricked. What he failed to understand was the superior skill a psychopath like Seraphine had when it came to manipulation. It was akin to a superpower. In order to fit in, Seraphine had learned to mimic normality. She’d had years of practice honing a mask of deception. But behind her beautiful face lurked a cold, calculating mind that felt nothing but disdain for the very people she copied. A disdain that made her very dangerous indeed.

‘How is Jane?’ Bloom asked, moving the subject into safer territory. Jane was the teenage girl whose mother had gone missing earlier in the year, the favour that Jameson had asked of her. And then Jane herself had disappeared, been taken by her mother at the behest of Seraphine. They had managed to secure Jane’s return, but her mother, Lana, still remained missing.

‘She’s fine.’

‘Is she seeing much of her father?’

‘Every other weekend.’

‘It must be nice for her to have stepbrothers.’

Jameson ignored her. ‘Where are we starting with this Peterson thing? Because I’ve made a few enquiries and managed to sort a meeting with his boss this afternoon. Patrick Grey. Northwood Headquarters. We can take the Metropolitan Line. It’s only forty-five minutes.’

‘Yes, I read your email. Thank you for organizing that. Did you speak to him on the phone?’

‘Only briefly. He said it was out of character. That Peterson’s the conscientious, reliable type.’

‘Interesting. So he’s unlikely to have gone AWOL unless he had no choice.’

‘Or he’s dead.’

Bloom raised her eyebrows. ‘So we go to Northwood this afternoon? Good. And we’re interviewing Karene this morning. She’s coming in at ten.’

‘Haven’t you spoken to her already?’ He was frosty, dismissive. He was here, but it wasn’t like before, not at all.

Bloom took a deep breath. ‘I thought we should hear it together, properly, from the start: that’s what we usually do.’

‘Did.’

Bloom frowned.

‘What we usually did,’ he explained.

‘So why upset a good system?’

He held her gaze for a moment then looked back at his computer screen.

Karene brought a pad full of notes that detailed her experience of the bombing and its aftermath, and the information she’d gathered from those she’d spoken to over the last two days.

She looked better, stronger. She was wearing loose trousers with a vibrant green blouse fastened at the front by a large silk bow. Her burnt-orange flats perfectly matched her ginger hair, which was plaited neatly to one side. Karene had always worked in academia and had never felt the need to dress conventionally.

She sat down straightaway and it was immediately clear that she wanted to get on with things.