‘Good afternoon,’ she said, showing her ID. ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Nicola Collins. Are you … Is this … What is this place?’ She was able to see over the man’s shoulder, and the corridor beyond looked warm and welcoming. And the building clearly extended further back than Nicky had realised. She could see all the way through to a yard at the rear, which from the brief glimpse she was able to steal, appeared far better tended to than the front part of the building’s exterior.

‘We’re Shining Light,’ the man said, as though it were obvious. Then, at the flicker of confusion on Nicky’s face, he smiled. ‘It’s kind of cheesy, I know. But I guess it doesn’t matter much what we call this place. It’s what we do here that counts.’

‘Which is what exactly?’

‘We’re a community. A shelter for the homeless, basically, but also quite a lot more than that. We—’ The man interrupted himself with a frown. ‘What do you want, Detective Sergeant? If you don’t know what this place is, why are you here?’

‘I’m looking for a woman called Melissa Haynes.’

The man’s face fell. He glanced behind him, then turned back and opened the door wider.

‘In that case,’ he said, ‘you’d better come in.’

The man led her along the hallway, past a pokey-looking office and into a room with space for at least a dozen people to sit comfortably on the ragtag assortment of sofas and armchairs. There was a pool table at one end of the room, and a large, wall-mounted TV at the other. Nothing looked new, but it all appeared clean and well cared for.

‘You probably noticed the size of my office on the way through,’ the man said. ‘This is about the most comfortable place for us to talk. And we should have some privacy. Most of the companions are still at work.’ He offered his hand. ‘My name’s Zack, by the way. Zack Lawrence. I’m the manager.’

‘Companions, you said,’ Nicky responded, shaking the manager’s hand. ‘Is that what you call the residents here?’

‘Right,’ said Zack. ‘We …’ He seemed to notice the sound from the television, which was tuned to one of the news channels. Zack had perched on the arm of a sofa, and he scanned the seats around him for the remote control. When he found it he pointed it at the TV, but hesitated before hitting any of the buttons. Nicky turned to see what had caught his attention. The face of Callum Richardson filled the screen. He was stepping from the back seat of a car, holding up a hand and smiling tightly in response to the barrage of questions from the waiting members of the press. Normally it would have been Richardson asking the awkward questions, and he didn’t appear best pleased about the reversal of his position.