Lucy ignored his attitude but gave thought to what he’d said. ‘Yes, because anything can happen on the streets. So it’s imperative we find out exactly what she knows as soon as possible and make a record.’

‘Maybe we should think about locking her up?’ Again, Peabody sounded pleased with the idea. ‘You say she’s attending a funeral. Whose funeral? Even if one of these poor fuckers has gone belly-up legitimately, disposing of the body out here … isn’t that preventing a lawful burial? Attempting to obstruct the Coroner?’

‘Let’s just crack on.’ She didn’t even want to contemplate getting into a whole slew of new, different and complex offences like that. ‘We’ll have to split up in a minute. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover. If we’ve got nowhere in an hour, I’m calling the chopper in.’

‘Christ, they’ll be happy.’

‘They’ll do their job,’ she retorted, her patience finally snapping, rounding on him. ‘And so will you! Listen … this may be something or nothing. But it may also be that Sister Cassie is the only witness we’ve got to a whole bunch of abductions and God knows what else! Now, are you with me on this, or not?’

‘Yeah, sure …’ The sudden show of force had taken him by surprise. ‘I mean, what I mean is … sure, I am.’

‘Right, good. We’re all feeling it, Malcolm. We’ve all got stacks to do. Welcome to CID. Perhaps now you know why no one wants to be a detective any more.’

She turned and trudged on. He followed her sheepishly.

Lucy had been in uniform when Peabody had first joined up, and had served as his tutor-constable, personally guiding him through the trials of his probation. During that time, they’d got to know each other well, and had become friends, though the teacher-and-pupil relationship remained. But her mind was already on other things.

This landfill site was huge, covering several square miles at least. She couldn’t even picture it geographically. She had some vague idea that it rose to a kind of plateau in the centre, from where they might be able to see what was happening farther afield. But it was difficult to pick anything out at present. It all looked exactly the same: a desolate, hummocky wilderness of rubbish. Occasionally, they’d see a distant tractor or JCB, a yellow light spinning on its cabin roof as it prowled the skyline, but such vehicles might as well have been toys, they were so far away.

After about ten minutes, they reached a part of the path where it divided into three. The divergence was marked by a tree, though what species was impossible to tell: it was twisted, its branches spindly and with only rags and tags of leaves hanging off it, though in the very middle, suspended with arms outstretched, as though crucified, was a dirty, eyeless doll.