‘Tone.’ He tried to sound chilled and happy in front of the public. More people had arrived; there was getting to be quite a crowd. Abs did his best to scribble on the pieces of paper they all thrust at him. ‘It’s been too long,’ he lied.

‘Deano’s dead,’ said Tony quickly.

Abs’s pen lifted from the till receipt he was signing. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Tone,’ he said carefully. If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sorry in the slightest. Tony’s mate Deano was a wrong ’un, and Abs would never forgive him for what happened.

‘Yeah.’ Tony sounded upset. ‘He was hit by a train.’

‘Ooh.’ Abs handed back the slip of paper and edged back from the throng, trying to find some space. ‘Nasty way to go.’

‘They reckon it could be murder, Abs. The police, I mean.’

‘I can’t talk right now, Tone.’ Abs couldn’t hear himself think above all the people pressing against him on every side.

‘I think someone’s been following me, Abs.’

‘You’re just upset, mate.’ Abs tried to stay calm. ‘I’m in the middle of something right now, but let’s have a catch-up, you, me and Jez.’

‘Someone’s after us, Abs, because of what we did. I’m scared.’

‘Calm down, bruv.’ Abs was getting the willies now. He was surrounded. People were shoving bits of paper at him to sign, along with DVDs and Laid In Essex! memorabilia. ‘I’ll call you as soon as I get away from here, yeah?’

‘They’re coming for us, Abs,’ said Tony in a panic.

‘Who is, Tone?’

‘I don’t know, but I’m scared.’

Abs was finding it difficult to breathe. ‘Just give me half an hour, yeah? I’ll call you back, I promise.’

‘They’re after us.’

‘Tony, mate,’ said Abs urgently. ‘Relax, you’re getting—’ But then the line went dead. ‘Tone, are you still there?’

Abs looked up quickly in the direction of the guy who had been watching him, but he was gone. He whirled in a circle to try and find him. The crowd pressed forward, reaching out. Abs scanned their faces in a panic.

You’re a professional, he scolded himself. Get a grip.

And then a glinting blade flashed in front of his face – making him flinch in terror.

‘Now would be a good time to cut the ribbon,’ said the assistant manager, flipping the scissors over and offering them handle first to Abs.

4

Back in the Major Incident Team’s suite of offices at the police station on Victoria Avenue in Southend, Sasha flipped off her shoes and fired up her computer. A television fixed to the wall was showing the local news, a report about coastal erosion along the estuary.

‘Hi, Sasha.’ DC Lolly Chambers gave a little wave from behind her desk.

‘Morning, Lols,’ Sasha said brightly, trying to get the sight of Andrew Dean’s broken torso out of her head. ‘Lovely day.’

It was hectic as usual. Phones rang across the office as her team chased lines of inquiry across numerous active investigations. The photocopier chuntered on the other side of the office, paper sliding from its innards, a thin beam of light racing along the edges of its plastic lid.