The concerns about her father instantly receded as her physical senses attuned themselves sharply to every element of her immediate environment.

Gently inserting the key into the lock, she pushed open the door and peered cautiously into the hallway. It was empty, just as she’d left it.

She stalked slowly forwards, placing one foot softly in front of the other. And stopped.

She sniffed the air. A smell. Very faint. Alien to her apartment. A male cologne.

She tensed and dropped into a jiu-jitsu yoi stance. Crouching low to protect her centre of gravity, turning slightly side-on to offer less of a target, she edged forwards, leading with her left leg, her hands held up in front of her poised to parry or strike.

On entering the living room, she was confronted by the sight of Rick sitting on the sofa, his arms stretched expansively along the back of it, one leg resting up casually on the knee of the other. Standing by the floor-to-ceiling window was Shane. Archie was sitting on one of the kitchen breakfast stools. And leaning against the mantelpiece was Stephen.

There was no Nancy. Just the boys.

They all turned to look at her when she entered.

She straightened up, dropping her defensive stance. If they’d been planning to jump her, then they would have done so already, as soon as she’d entered.

She forcibly suppressed any expression of alarm. To display fear would look weak and that might be just what they were looking for.

For a moment she was puzzled as to how they knew where she lived. But then she remembered that this address was on her fake driving licence, the one Stephen had examined in such detail.

She guessed they didn’t quite trust her after all. Things were never that straightforward working undercover. They had come here to check her out, to see if she really was who she said she was. And if they ascertained that she wasn’t… she tried not to think about what they might do.

Rick observed her with his dead black eyes and gave her a bloodless smile. ‘I hope you don’t mind us paying you a little visit.’

For professional criminals such as these, breaking and entering into her apartment presented little problem. As she recalled, that was Stephen’s particular area of expertise.

‘Your alarm system isn’t very good,’ Stephen smirked. ‘You’ll get burgled if you’re not careful.’ He looked around at her sparse belongings. ‘Not that you’ve got much to nick,’ he added.

‘Make yourself at home,’ she said drily, moving into the living room warily, mentally marking their positions should she need to make a fast exit. ‘Can I get any of you a coffee?’ she asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

They ignored her and instead watched Stephen as he pushed himself off the mantelpiece, wandered over to a set of shelves and began to flip through her small collection of books of cryptic crosswords and sudoku.

‘Looking for anything in particular?’ she asked, attempting to sound casual.