‘We have no reason to believe that’s going to happen and would urge you not to scaremonger, Tony, please. We want to encourage people to come forward with information, not send the city into panic.’

‘That’s a yes, then.’

I gritted my teeth.

‘Does this case have personal involvement for you too, Inspector?’ Suzie’s question purred through a beautifully lipsticked mouth, and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one to catch her jeer.

I glanced over at Dan who rolled his eyes. We both knew Suzie James of old. ‘I’ve lived in this area for thirty-seven years, Suzie. It’s all personal to me. Thank you. No further questions.’

‘Well done.’ Dan spoke softly.

‘Thanks,’ I said wearily. ‘Right. Back to the nick for briefing and let’s get cracking.’ And added, ‘I dread to think what the headlines are going to be.’

6.30 p.m.

6.30 p.m.

When the girl woke up, she lay where she was, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dark. She knew something was wrong when she saw the ceiling. Her stars had gone. She tried to sit up. The mattress was slippery and smelled funny and didn’t have a sheet. Her head was spinning, like when she was poorly sometimes. She lay down on her side, trying to figure out where she was. Two windows. In a corner of one, black plastic was peeling away from the frame, and slivers of light fell on the carpet and walls. No posters. No lamp. Her bedroom at home had a blind and a fluffy rug.

While she was sleeping, she’d thought she’d heard footsteps. They’d stopped at the end of the bed. And voices. She must’ve been dreaming.

She listened now.

Nothing.

‘Mummy?’ She spoke quietly in the dark, but no-one heard.

Thirsty. Her mouth was dry.

She sat up again, and slid her legs off the edge of the mattress and onto the floor. She’d sit here for a while, until her head stopped spinning. Beneath her toes, the thick carpet felt soft and squishy. She liked it. She liked being in a warm room with a lovely carpet, but she wanted Mummy. Mummy would bring her a drink and Mummy would know where the stars were and the slippy mattress with a drink . . . dizzy . . . and the stars in the shiny . . .

Maya, 7.30 p.m.

Maya, 7.30 p.m.

Back in the MIT room, the team were poised for our first briefing. The first twenty-four hours of the investigation were critical. We all knew that. Around the room, the boards were up and important information had been plastered over all available surfaces. Maps showed locations and routes. Shops had been plotted on a street plan. Facts and questions stood out in coloured board markers. We’d all examined the mug shots and got to grips with the key names.