She picks up her phone and googles Finn Mason and Dr Simon Sharp but there aren’t any more updates following the one that Mina found in the morning. She finishes her sandwich and throws the wrapper in the footwell, leaning her head back as tiredness overtakes her. She’ll just close her eyes for a moment, get a coffee on the way back in…

Her phone rings, jerking her out of her doze. She glances at the clock. Shit! She’s been asleep for an hour.

‘Where are you, Freya?’ Josh shouts down the phone.

‘Nice, Josh, nice,’ she mumbles in response. ‘Heading back now, no need to yell.’

Freya hangs up as Josh starts talking again. She sighs. Smith has a few things to learn about motivational leadership, that’s for sure.

Freya has been on hold for twenty minutes, waiting to get through to the customer helpline for Hotpoint. Having the serial number is one thing, but speaking to someone about it is another.

She rests the phone against her ear and leans over to see what Mina’s doing next to her. She has a black-and-white video file open on her screen and is watching it, her eyes half glazed.

‘Anything?’ she asks.

Mina sighs. ‘Nothing that stands out.’ She points to the screen. ‘This is the CCTV from Riverside, and it’s well off the beaten path. You wouldn’t need to pass here to get to the freezer, so it’s unlikely there’ll be anything useful.’ She picks up her coffee cup and takes the last swig. ‘This storm was a blazer last night, though, that’s for sure. Look at it.’

Freya squints at the screen. Trees blow wildly in the wind and the rain pours, forming lakes where the road should have been.

‘Who would want to be out in that?’ Freya comments.

Mina nods, then sighs, throwing her head back in barely disguised boredom. She picks up her empty cup. ‘Want another?’ she asks.

Freya nods.

‘Please,’ she says, then turns her attention quickly back to her phone. ‘Yes, hello, hello,’ she says, as the call is answered. ‘This is DC West, from Hampshire Police. We need information on a chest freezer.’

The woman at the other end of the phone doesn’t seem too worried about data protection and gives the information willingly. Luckily, eleven years ago the new owner had been conscientious enough to register its warranty. Freya takes the number and dials. The phone is answered on the tenth ring by a woman, her voice reedy and frail.

‘Yes?’

‘This is DC Freya West, calling from Hampshire Police. Is this Vera Woodley?’

‘Are you one of those cold-callers I’ve been told not to talk to?’

‘No, no, I’m phoning from Hampshire Police. I need to talk to you about your freezer.’

‘My freezer?’

‘Yes, a Hotpoint chest freezer. That you bought in 2010?’