There was light rain falling when she left Oxford Circus. Of course, she hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella. She took it as an omen that the rest of the day was going to be a hellish one. Turning down New Burlington Street, she saw the imposing grey building immediately ahead, police vans parked either side of its entrance. There was nothing threatening about the grey brick or the almost startling white window frames, but her insides spasmed with a fear that intensified as she approached. She could turn and run away but what then? ‘I’ve done nothing wrong,’ she muttered as she used the handrail to negotiate the nine steps to the front door. Another bad omen: lust was one of the nine circles of hell in Dante’s Inferno and isn’t that what had started this nightmare in the first place?

Inside the station, she gave her name to the bored counter clerk and took a seat to wait. It wasn’t long before DS Carstairs arrived, his too-knowing eyes sliding over her, making her skin crawl.

‘Morning,’ he said. ‘We’re this way.’ He headed off down the corridor without another word.

Instantly irritated at his attitude, Molly lifted her chin and followed.

He stopped at a door and pushed it open, indicating with a silent jerk of his head that she went inside. It was a standard cold interview room. The only thing that made it different to any number of small conference rooms she’d been in over the years was the table screwed to the floor. The chairs weren’t, she was pleased to see, but they were light moulded-plastic ones that wouldn’t cause much damage if smashed against the side of someone’s head.

Not that she was planning on doing any smashing, despite the look on the detective’s face that said, as clearly as if it had been written there, that he didn’t think much of her. She met his gaze straight on, her eyes never wavering as she sat on one of the chairs. There was only one way to deal with people like him – show them you weren’t afraid. She guessed she did an okay job as he immediately looked away and told her he’d be back in a few minutes. But if he thought she wasn’t afraid he was a poor judge of people: she was terrified.

The room was warm. When he left, she took off her dark-blue coat and hung it over the back of the chair beside her, dropping her bag on the seat rather than a floor that looked as if it only ever had a faint relationship with a mop.