The address of the owner of the object turned out to be in one of the grottiest two-storey apartment blocks Ross had ever seen. Every one of the flats on the lower floor had a garden, and all but two of them were overgrown. The balconies on the upper row were the same: window boxes stood empty and piles of junk sat, inviting more disarray. The lights in the particular flat they were interested in weren’t on. ‘I wonder how she paid for it,’ she said.

‘The same way you did?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah.’

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Speeding. I’m never going to be feeling happy. Could you stop asking?’

‘Sorry.’

You’re never going to make me happy, she didn’t add. That’s a conclusion you might end up dwelling on. She leaned into him for a second, just headbutted his shoulder.

They went to the door of the flat and rang the bell. Nobody was in. They asked next door, where there were still lights on. Yes, the bloke in the Spurs shirt said, freaked out to have his doorbell rung at this hour, but comforted by Costain’s warrant card, the young woman who lived there, weird she was, he’d seen her about recently. She kept herself to herself. The only time he’d spoken to her, well, he didn’t think much of her, to be honest.

They got a description, which was as detailed as you might expect from one meeting, generic, even. The small amount of research Ross had done on this woman had found that here was someone else missing from official records, exactly as Losley had been. She wondered how common a trick that was among the Privileged. Ross didn’t want to have to look through hundreds of records to find the ones where the Sight could reveal concealment again, not with the address in question in front of her and the owner in situ, but she would if she had to find out more about her. They went and looked at the door again. It looked easy enough to break in but that threat assessment didn’t include whatever occult nastiness might await inside.

‘Do you reckon it’s in there?’ Costain asked.

‘No idea. Can you feel anything?’

‘No.’

‘Me neither. I was thinking she might have … you know … used it.’ She hadn’t wanted to say that out loud. If one had bought the Bridge to insure one’s own safety, her reading indicated that it had to be on one’s person at the moment of death to do so, but if she’d bought it to return someone to life …

‘I thought that too. Didn’t want to say anything.’