The guy made out like he was really in a tough position: sucked air through his teeth and stroked an eyebrow with his thumb. Vincent stood looking at him, patient, and finally the cop reached a nice conclusion: ‘Well, I can ask.’

‘That’d be great. And the surfboard, too, if I can.’ He nodded toward the garage. ‘Roof of the Pontiac.’

He didn’t really care what the answer was, but he needed an excuse to keep them down here. He waited until the guy was up the path and out of sight, and then he stepped into Erin’s apartment. The two uniforms were half turned, still talking, and if luck went his way and made up for this morning, they might not notice. But as soon as he had a foot on the carpet, he heard a whistle behind him.

‘Whoa, buddy—no, no, no, no, no.’

There was a photo on the cabinet he hadn’t noticed earlier—Erin and a little boy, obviously the son she’d mentioned. A posed studio shot, the two of them clear-eyed and combed, and caught at the perfect moment: looking at each other, and on the cusp of a laugh.

‘Dude, are you deaf?’

He picked up the phone and opened the speed-dial menu. The first entry was MAIN HOUSE, followed by EUGENE CELL, CASEY CELL, SECURITY APT—presumably his apartment, through the wall—and then SECURITY CELL.

‘Put the phone down.’

‘She just wanted me to check something.’

‘I don’t care. It’s part of a fucking crime scene.’

Freeman had asked him just last night for his cell number, so the final entry hadn’t been updated. The number saved would relate to the last guy—whomever it was Vincent had replaced. Maybe he would have some insights about why this had all happened. He kept the SECURITY CELL entry highlighted, and the label scrolled across to reveal a number, and then the cop had him by the arm.

‘Put it down. Come on.’

‘All right. Relax.’

‘No, I won’t relax. How many times do I have to say it?’

Vincent put the phone down where he’d found it, and let the guy lead him back outside. He let go of Vincent’s arm. ‘I don’t want my balls in a vice because you can’t do as you’re told.’

Vincent said, ‘Well, we better just stand here quietly and not make a scene.’

He thought there was a retort on the way, but then his driver was coming back down the garden path, and it seemed to draw a line under the moment. The guy had Vincent’s backpack proffered on a thumb.

‘Sorry, your room’s a no-go. This is all I can give you.’