Either way, for Nicky it had been a wasted trip, and now she was down to the last address on her meagre list. If Blackhawk failed to check out, she would be back to square one. There were no more leads, no more hints as to where Melissa might be. Even Melissa’s parents had apparently lost touch with her. Her father had died in 2015 – killed in a car wreck on his way home from the pub – but her mother lived in Somerset, and Nicky had spoken to her on the telephone. Veronica Haynes had claimed she hadn’t seen her daughter since Melissa left home at the age of eighteen, almost two decades ago now. And Nicky had believed that Melissa’s mother was telling the truth even before the woman dissolved into tears. The whole conversation had left Nicky feeling distinctly unsettled, and not just because she’d resorted to assuring Melissa’s mother that her daughter was almost certainly fine – something Nicky was becoming less convinced of by the hour. As she’d hung up, she’d also found herself thinking about her own mother, comparing her situation with Melissa’s. The truth, Nicky had realised, was that she was jealous. Not of Melissa’s troubles, obviously – Nicky wouldn’t have wished Melissa’s circumstances on anybody. Rather, it was the reaction of Melissa’s mother that Nicky coveted: the knowledge that, whatever had transpired in the past, she still cared about her daughter in a way Nicky’s mum had never cared about her.

She turned her attention back to the former church, forcing herself to focus on the matter at hand.

Perhaps the church was another squat. Given its condition, it was about all the building looked good for. And maybe this time someone inside would own up to having heard of Melissa.

There was no gate, just an open driveway, gravelled and overgrown with weeds. Nicky almost didn’t bother with the front door, fully expecting it to be locked and bolted, and she was already veering to head around back when she spotted a postcard-sized sign beside what appeared to be a recently installed doorbell. Shining Light charitable foundation, read the notice. Please ring for assistance.

She pressed the bell, which continued to buzz for the second or two she held her finger on the button. After a moment, she heard the door being unbolted, and took a step back. Experience had taught her to give people a little space before introducing herself as a police officer on their doorstep.

‘Can I help you?’

The man who’d opened the door was tall, youngish and neatly dressed, with a collar and tie poking out above the neckline of his jumper. He was the exact opposite of what the building had led Nicky to expect.