She shoved the phone in a drawer, grabbed her notebook and yanked off the lid of a Bic with her teeth. Sasha was about to head to the interview room when Vaughn walked in the door with a coffee cup in his hand. But when he looked over, for some reason she didn’t even understand – maybe it was her alarm that he was unshaved and wore the same suit and tie as yesterday – she ducked behind the monitor. Peeking around the side, she watched him go into his office and slump tiredly behind his desk. The first thing he did was take out his phone and start texting. Craig Power wandered over while Sasha was still hunched like a troll beneath a bridge.

‘Craig,’ she said brightly. ‘Good morning.’

‘You alright?’ he asked.

‘Bit of a stiff shoulder from sleeping awkwardly last night.’ She rubbed her collarbone and slowly straightened in her seat, as if the massage was miraculously curing it. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘A young woman has been reported missing in Brentwood,’ he said. ‘Name of Sarah Tovey. Went out clubbing last night with her cousin and a couple of friends. She left them at eleven to look for a cab, but never arrived home. She’s a carer for her disabled mum, so it’s totally out of character.’

‘Is it on the system?’ she asked. ‘I’ll take a look at it this morning.’

‘They’re handling it at Chelmsford nick,’ he said, ‘but they want us to be made aware. A couple of other women have gone missing in similar circumstances in the county over the last couple of years. If she doesn’t turn up today, they’ve asked if we’ll interview the cousin.’

‘Thank you, Power Man,’ she told him. ‘Keep me up to speed.’

‘Sasha, got a moment?’

The sound of Vaughn’s voice made her reluctantly peep over the top of her monitor. He was standing in his office doorway, so she did a surprised face for his benefit, as if she didn’t know he’d come in.

‘Excuse me,’ she told Craig, and followed Vaughn into his office.

He sat behind his desk, prodding at his computer keyboard with one hand, clinging to the cup of coffee with the other as if it were a life raft on a stormy sea. Up close, he looked very hungover and dishevelled.

He said, ‘I owe you an explanation.’

‘No, you don’t.’ She held up her hands in protest. ‘It’s none of my business.’

‘I’ve…’ His fingers drummed on his desk. ‘Behaved very badly.’

She didn’t know where this conversation was going and didn’t want to know. ‘Vaughn, really—’

‘It’s delicate.’ He went to the door she had left ajar and closed it. ‘This is not something I want you to hear from… your sister. And I don’t want her to be embarrassed.’