Her phone rang, making her jump, and she saw it was Vaughn. She couldn’t talk to him. If she told him what was happening, he’d persuade her out of recklessly taking the matter into her own hands, he’d command her to tell him where Carrington was keeping those kids. She’d be shunted to the fringes of the investigation, forced to wait for news of whatever operation was launched to rescue the three teenagers. But the confrontation at the Bad Place had ended in a girl’s violent death, and she sensed Carrington would kill those kids at the first sign the police were approaching the house. Sasha couldn’t take that chance.

Kev’s guilt that he’d shouted at Jake moments before his death and her own furious argument with her daughter flooded into her mind, and she felt sick. Oh, Angel, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.

Breathing deeply, and against her better judgement, she answered the phone. ‘Hello, Vaughn.’

‘Where are you?’ he said angrily.

‘I’m sorry. Something’s happened.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I can’t explain right now.’

‘Are you kidding?’ She heard phones ringing all around the incident room. ‘All hell has broken loose here. We have a suspect, Ian Carrington.’

Her heart leapt. She prayed that Carrington didn’t think she had told her team about him. Maybe for some reason he had broken cover. Sasha dreaded to think of what would happen if they were already closing in on his location…

‘Do you have him in custody?’

‘Not yet, we’re on the way to his house in Rochford.’

Sasha felt a sick kind of relief. The address Carrington had given her was up near Wallasea. She may have a head start, at least.

‘And you,’ Vaughn was saying, ‘need to be here.’

‘I can’t come in.’ She tried to shake the tension from her voice. ‘There’s something I have to do.’

‘Hold on.’ Her response had caught him off guard, she heard the background noise fall away as he took the call into the privacy of his office. ‘What’s going on, Sasha?’

The reporters rushed towards the house when Karin appeared outside. The door of a van parked along the street swung open and a camera crew jumped out. Karin walked quickly towards Sasha’s car, head down, shoulders hunched.

Sasha said, ‘Sorry, Vaughn, I’ve got to go.’

‘Sasha, talk to m—’

As soon as she cut the call, she began to pluck at the casing of her phone with her nails. Karin ran towards her, the reporters and the camera team snapping at her heels.

‘Karin,’ they called as she bolted for the car, and Sasha leaned across the passenger seat to open the door. ‘Is it true you were attacked? What about the arrest of Jim Haskell, Karin, what can you tell us about that?’