Through the gap in the front-room window, Liz saw Ellie and two others advancing on the house. Here we go, she thought, and went out into the hall.

“All right,” she shouted. “No-one do anything, not less I say.”

Remembering how Cheetham had been holding her gun, Liz did the same with hers, resting it behind her thigh, just out of sight. If it came down to it, she wouldn’t hesitate, while Ellie Cheetham more than likely would: she was still a copper, after all, with rules and procedures to obey. She certainly wouldn’t be as ready as Liz, because she didn’t understand what was happening around here; not what was really happening.

Liz checked the security chain was on, and waited.

There was a knock at the door.

Ellie heard the key turn in the lock, and the front door opened a few inches, the brass security chain pulled taut. Liz Harper’s bulk filled the gap: half that doughy, sullen face; a coil of greasy hair; one stone-coloured eye.

The wind blew snow between them.

“Well?” said Liz.

“Morning, Liz.”

“What do you want?” The face blank, the eye as stony as its colour.

All right, then. “Anyone from here been out today?”

“What if we have?”

“Clearing the roads with your snowploughs, that sort of thing?”

Liz smirked. “Yeah, that’s right, Constable. Even though you’re always saying we’re scum and never do anything for anyone else. See? Bit of community spirit on show there. Not that it’ll make any difference next time some –”

“So you went past Wakeman Farm? And the Bell?”

The smirk froze. “Might’ve. Well, not me personally.”

“Who did, then?”

“What’s this about?” No pause before the question; Liz had known it was coming. Playing games. Deflecting.

“So whoever went out clearing the roads didn’t happen to notice the state of either of those places, then?”

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Been a bit hard to miss, I’d’ve thought.”

“Maybe they did see something. What if they did?”

“And they didn’t report it?”

“What for? You lot’d just blame them for it, like you blame us for anything goes wrong round here. Give a dog a bad name and –”

“They didn’t happen to see Charlotte Famuyiwa or David Chapple on their travels, did they?”

“Not that I heard.”

“Just that the pair of them set off from Barsall this morning. Dave was taking her back to the Bell. And we found his car parked outside the pub with the doors open. Right next to some fresh tractor marks. So you can see how it might look.”

“Like I said,” said Liz, “give a dog a bad name. Can’t blame the boys not wanting to get involved when you lot blame them if you stub your toe.”

“Charlotte and Dave are both missing.”

“Sorry to hear it.”