‘State of that place. It’s a bloody disgrace,’ Dougie snarled. ‘If they got their finger out and finished the development of those blocks, those kids wouldn’t be in this situation.’

‘When officers searched the address,’ continued the reporter, ‘they found a handgun and a stash of ammunition, and large quantities of Class A drugs.’

‘I agree about the estate,’ I replied to Dougie, ‘but those kids are obviously homeless. I dread to think what might have happened to them if they hadn’t been able to squat there.’ I bundled the blanket into a ball. ‘Makes my blood boil. How can so many youngsters be fending for themselves like this? Dealing drugs in exchange for a floor to doss down on?’ I lobbed the blanket on the sofa. ‘Where the hell is Ali?’

Dougie shook his head. ‘A piece of good news though – we’ve got a lead. It’s what I came to tell you. The tech guys have downloaded the comms data on the burner. There’s an SMS from an unregistered mobile. Here.’ He reached into his pocket and gave me the print-out.

the shop on right wiv a star above a blue front door

A star? I couldn’t help thinking of the Star of David that Rosa had found outside the newsagent’s . . . and a terrible realisation hit me. ‘Hold on.’ I swiped my mobile into life and googled the Brick Lane Soup Company. Clicked on images and . . . ‘Look.’ I showed him the photograph. Simas and Indra stood together, beaming with pride in front of a blue door. Above the frame, carved by a mason into a block of stone, the way I’d seen on numerous Jewish buildings, was a Star of David. ‘I know Rosa’s door is blue too because she told me yesterday that it was one of the last things that Józef did before he died.’

‘I doubt we’ll get any viable prints off her brickwork, but whoever did it may have touched the wood frames. It hasn’t rained. And there may be some transfer materials.’

‘I really hope so. Because this could mean that Rosa’s newsagent’s isn’t next to be torched.’ I looked at Dougie to see if his deduction was the same as mine. ‘It could mean that it was the intended target last Friday, and somehow the arsonist made a mistake.’ I jumped to my feet. ‘If that’s the case—’ I let out a scream of frustration ‘—we’ve spent two days investigating a crime that was never meant to happen.’

9 a.m.

9 a.m.

This time, the girl was awake when they came. She heard the floorboards creak on the other side of the door, the key in the lock, the whispered voices. Saw the slice of light as the door opened.

The footsteps came to a sudden halt beside the bed.