Back in the living room, Joanna scanned the floor, and although there were no objects that looked like weapons, there by the skirting was a discarded teaspoon she hadn’t noticed before. Atkinson came in and she nodded toward it.

“Shall I bag it, boss?”

“No, wait for the CSIs. They’ll need a clean run. Also, you’ll need to report your movements and your account of my movements from when we both entered the flat, for the record.”

“When do you need that report?”

“As soon as possible. Tonight, if you can. What else do you see, Steve?”

He looked around.

“A sofa. A plate. Um. A TV remote?”

“Anything unusual?”

“That box of toys is kind of unusual. The caretaker didn’t know there was a kid living here. That doesn’t make sense, does it?”

“I don’t know. It’s a private residence. There’s no reason he would know, if he hadn’t been told.” She stared through the kitchen door at the fridge, where the child’s drawings were held in place by lozenge-shaped magnets. “Okay. Here’s a different question. What don’t you see?”

“Do you mean, like, what’s missing? Well, not much. The TV is still there. There’s a posh wireless sound system. If it was a burglary, then they didn’t take anything obvious. I can’t imagine what else might be missing unless you mean his personal items, wallet, phone?”

“Nope. They’re in the kitchen—look. And his car keys. His phone was plugged into a charger; it only ran out because the electricity had been turned off. That phone is the latest model. They’re, like, a thousand pounds.”

“Okay,” said Atkinson, “we can be sure there was no burglar here then, or all of that would have gone. But I don’t know. How can we possibly tell what’s missing if we don’t know what was here before?”

Joanna narrowed her eyes at her colleague. She gave him another few seconds before she said what was obvious, surely, to anyone. “There are no photos.”

Atkinson’s eyebrows went up. He swept the walls with his eyes. No photos and no places on the wall where photos might have been. Even in today’s digital age, people still had family images on the walls. And here in this smart apartment, where a small child had been living—surely the most photographed species of being in the world—there was nothing. No portraits at all.

“Maybe he’ll have photos on his phone?”

Harper thought about it. “Sure, that’s possible. But it’s still a bit odd, don’t you think?”