‘You didn’t see Connor Vardy?’

‘No.’

‘You haven’t been near Riverside?’

‘No.’

‘You didn’t see the freezer?’

‘I told you. We were at Mark’s. We were playing Xbox.’

‘Where nobody saw you, not even Mark’s dad?’

‘Mark saw me. Tyler saw me.’

Freya glances across at Josh, who shakes his head. Freya sighs, then pushes the completed MG11 form across to Lee.

‘Fine. Sign this and you can go.’

Lee gives Freya’s handwriting a cursory glance, scribbles at the bottom of the page, then walks out. The other two stand up, clapping him on the back as they lope away, jeering.

Josh makes an exasperated noise. ‘Bloody kids.’

‘I know they’re a group of tossers, but perhaps they didn’t have anything to do with that body,’ Freya suggests. ‘Perhaps they just hung around in the bus shelter for a bit, then did go home to play on the Xbox.’

Josh scowls. ‘Perhaps, but I’d love to wipe those satisfied expressions off their smug little faces.’

They head towards the reception area, ready to drive to the station. But as they go, Freya catches a glimpse of the back of someone – someone who looks strangely familiar. Long dark hair, slim frame, tall. As she passes, the woman turns her head and Freya knows who it is. Olivia Cross. Amy Miller’s sister. Her clothes seem more expensive, her hair glossy and styled, but she’s definitely the prostitute and stripper that Freya remembers from nine months before.

Their eyes meet, a moment of recognition. Then Olivia smiles.

‘Detective West,’ she says.

Then she turns to face her and Freya’s breath catches. Although from the back she looked as slim as before, Freya can now see the massive bump. She’s pregnant. Very pregnant.

Olivia rests her hands on her tummy. ‘What a surprise to see you,’ she continues.

‘Olivia. How are you?’ Freya asks, forcing a smile onto her face. Next to her, Josh pauses, sensing something interesting going on.

‘I’m good. Been busy,’ she laughs, gesturing to her belly.

‘I can see. Congratulations. How far along are you?’

‘Thirty-five weeks. Due soon.’

‘How exciting,’ Freya says, but her head is mentally working out the maths. Thirty-five weeks. So – eight, nine months? Which would take it back to…

‘Detective Sergeant Joshua Smith,’ Josh says next to her, holding out his hand.

Olivia shakes it, then looks at Freya. ‘Are you not working with Robin any more?’

Robin? Freya thinks. Informal. ‘No, I am. Just here doing a few interviews. And you?’ she asks, curious.

‘Handing in final coursework. I’ve been doing a diploma in beauty therapy. Need a career that’s a bit more respectable,’ she adds with a stroke of her belly. ‘For when this one comes along.’

‘Of course. Nice to see you,’ Freya finishes, suddenly desperate to get away.

‘You too. Tell Robin hello from me.’

They walk away quickly. Josh whispers, ‘Who was that?’