She bit into the cake, licking her fingers clean. As usual it was utterly delicious. She’d bet money on Zoe winning the Bake Off competition one of these days. Her office door opened and Sara looked in.

‘Boss,’ she began then her eye fell on the remains of the cake. ‘Zoe gave you a blondie then,’ she said.

‘They are so good, Sara. How does she do it?’

‘Beats me. She gave me the recipe. But they never turn out the same when I try them.’

Clare thought of her own attempts at baking – non-existent these days. ‘Nor me,’ she said. ‘Anyway, take a seat.’

Sara hovered by the door. ‘Actually I can’t stop. Just came to say I was due to follow-up with the mum whose toddler wandered off but there’s been a road accident down on North Street.’

‘Anyone hurt?’

‘Don’t think so. But it’s partly blocking the road and you know how congested it gets down there so I’d better head over.’

Clare suddenly thought a bit of ordinary police work was just what she needed. ‘Tell you what, Sara,’ she said, ‘give me the toddler mum’s details. I’ll call in on her myself.’

Sara looked doubtful. ‘You sure, boss? She’s a nice woman. I wouldn’t want her worrying. You being a DI, I mean.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll not go in heavy-handed. You go and sort out your traffic, and I promise I’ll be kind to your toddler woman.’

Sara turned to leave then Clare said, ‘Sara.’

‘Boss?’

‘Was Zoe’s hair always purple?’

Melanie Fraser lived in a two-bedroomed flat above a hairdressing salon in Bell Street. Clare was pleased to see she only opened the door a few inches, thanks to what seemed to be a shiny new chain. She studied Clare’s warrant card before releasing the chain and inviting her in. She led Clare into a small sitting room. It was sparsely furnished but clean and tidy. A TV sat in one corner with a selection of Peppa Pig DVDs. Next to this stood a bookcase filled with toddler board books and chick lit novels, and there was a Duplo train on a rug beneath the window.

Clare’s practised eye took it all in and she decided there was nothing to worry about here. She looked round for somewhere to sit and her eye fell on a copy of the local newspaper on a chair. The photo wasn’t a recent one, Clare thought, but they’d caught Gaby at a thoughtful moment, her wide smile for once absent. She inclined her head and read,

Daytime Gaby’s Tears for Brother

and she sighed inwardly. There would be no holding back the press now. She took the seat Melanie had indicated and gave her a smile. Melanie followed suit, perching on the edge of a chair, twisting a silver ring on her middle finger.