No. 8, Atkinson Row and the backstreet behind it were now officially designated crime scenes. The first CSIs would be there later today. That could only help. In addition, there were witness statements to be taken. As soon as Tessa Payne checked in, Lucy would send her to speak to the Rodwells – because she herself had someone else she needed to speak to, and that would be far from straightforward. If she wanted to learn more about these alleged missing homeless, to try and work out whether they actually had disappeared, rather than left the area of their own volition, the only thing to do was go and talk to the homeless themselves.

Or at least to their spokesperson.

‘Sister Cassie,’ she muttered, taking a Greater Manchester A-Z from the drawer in her desk and flipping to the page on which a street map of Crowley, and the St Clement’s ward especially, were displayed. ‘Where on earth do I find you today?’

Chapter 9

It was quarter to ten on a Saturday night, and like every night Lorna Cunningham hit the pavements running in her hi-tech Ultraboost trainers and pink and green running vest and tights.

Her friends, even fellow exercise freaks, were always amazed when they learned that she went out for a run on Saturdays too.

‘Seriously, babes?’

‘You owe yourself some downtime.’

‘You need to live a little bit, at least.’

Lorna smiled to herself as she lolloped across the housing estate. It wasn’t a graceful running style, but she had long, lean limbs and she covered the ground quickly and effortlessly. Fitness was a big thing these days, but so many people played at it. Not Lorna. She was the real deal, getting herself into shape so that she could compete, denying herself chocolate, cakes and nights on the town so that she could bring her best game to the running track and the volleyball court. So that she could win. But that required mental strength as well as physical, which was exactly what she was demonstrating now: sticking rigidly to her routine, coming outside and putting herself through it on club night.

Even Alex, her boyfriend of several years and a three-times Ironman competitor, was fascinated by the discipline this required. Not that he was hugely supportive, though that was more out of concern about the lateness of the hour and the quietness of the streets.

Lorna simply told him not to worry. It was true: unless you were in the very centre of town, Crowley was usually quiet on a Saturday evening. The few cars on the roads were taxis and minicabs and there were almost no pedestrians. In his eyes that made it dangerous for her to be out alone, but Lorna always argued the opposite. Anyone of a thuggish inclination would probably be down in the bar and nightclub district, where they would find more than enough violent action.