‘Who?’ I seek out his eyes, and the caramel pools, which always tell the truth, are narrower than usual and darker.

‘No-one you know, Miss Nosey-Parker.’ He gives a small laugh, but it sounds hollow and tight.

‘You told us you were going for a haircut.’ I pull my hand from his and race back over to the barber’s, unsure why Dad has said the place was busy.

‘I changed my mind, darling. I had to attend to a bit of business. That’s all.’ He softens his voice and smiles warmly. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. Honestly. Let’s catch up with your sister.’ He turns to check where she is, and I catch sight of a waxy red mark on his neck and one on his cheek. Sabbir has gone ahead and is chatting to a friend but Jasmina is level with us now. I nudge her.

‘What are they, Dad?’ I point at the two round marks. ‘On your neck and . . . ’

Dad blushes and blindly rubs at his skin, where he thinks I mean.

‘They’ve gone now,’ I say, and I’m trying to push down the feelings which are bubbling up.

He’s facing Jasmina and me. ‘There’s no need to tell your mother about this. OK? We don’t want to upset her.’

His words make me angry and scared, and I don’t understand why, except that it feels like a secret and I don’t like secrets. ‘I s’pose,’ I reply begrudgingly, and I stomp away from him, thoughts crashing in my ears like waves on the seashore. All I can think of is that I want to yell at him, and ask him why he lied and where he went.

Maya, 8.30 a.m.

Maya, 8.30 a.m.

‘Here you go.’ The familiar voice broke into my sleep.

‘Hmm?’ I opened my eyes. ‘What time is it?’ I tried to orient myself. Kitchen cabinets. Notice boards. The news on low. And Dougie’s face, smiling at me.

‘Half eight,’ he said.

I was in the staff rest area at the station. ‘The couch was a bad idea.’ I rotated my neck and kneaded it to ease the stiffness. ‘I was dreaming about Dad and the fingerprint report and – Wait. Have we found Ali?’

‘Not yet. But Sophie Williams’ mother turned up this morning. She’s been on a bender.’

I sighed. That was good news for Sophie, but it meant we were even further from identifying our UnSub. For every step we took forward, we were taking two back.

Dougie pulled up a spare chair and placed a mug on it. ‘Here. I got you a packet of bourbons from the machine.’ He handed them to me. ‘Don’t ever accuse me of being unromantic.’

I smiled a thank you. ‘The fingerprints on Mum’s mobile are likely to be Dad’s. I read the report last night.’