Because it’s empty. Not just empty of Sabine, empty of things. No personal possessions at all. The TV’s gone, the cardboard box the photo of her had fallen from, all gone. It looks exactly like what it is, a rental between tenants.

‘I need to check the bathroom, that’s where I put the dressing.’

Vermeer nods to the uniform who comes with me. He’s standing in the doorway as I reach down for the bin, dull metal dented with age. I already know what I’m going to find. It’s empty. Cleaned out like the rest of the flat. I can feel the panic lodge in my throat, seep into my chest. I glance at the window. Then I shift my grip on the bin.

‘Look.’ I point into it.

He moves closer, bending to see what I’m pointing at. Which is when I swing it round. It smashes into his face and he staggers back. Before he can react I shove him hard in the chest. He steps back again and catches his heel on the threshold, toppling out of the room and hitting the floor with a loud crash. I slam the door shut, lock it and rush to the window. It’s stuck, jammed hard and my fingers scrabble at the wooden frame.

Someone’s banging on the door.

‘Rykel, open this door right now!’ Vermeer’s voice.

I haven’t got much time. I swing the bin. The glass shatters into a hailstorm of glinting shards. Blows on the door behind. I hear the lock give and Vermeer’s in the room. I turn to look at her. She’s drawn her weapon and is aiming it right at me.

‘Drop it,’ she says.

Bin vs gun. I drop it.

‘On the ground. Now!’

‘Listen, you’ve got to believe me. I’m being –’

‘On the ground now or I will shoot.’

‘No you won’t. I don’t have a gun. You can’t shoot me.’

She switches her aim to my leg. ‘I will shoot. And I’ll tell them you grabbed the uniform’s gun so the rules of engagement will be on my side. So just fucking do it!’

I look at her, eyes ablaze, but the rest of her cool, in control.

‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Okay.’

I kick the bin towards her, scooping it up so it flies between us, and launch myself through the window and onto the tiles. I slide down towards the lip of the roof, just managing to stop myself before I go over the edge.

Below me a car is parked. I’m high, but I can probably just make it. I have to make it.

‘Rykel!’

I twist my head round to see Vermeer at the window. She’s pointing her gun at me. Again. Somehow I think this time she really will fire.

‘Come back. We can work this out!’