She stumbled blearily through to the kitchen and put the kettle on, then opened the fridge. The milk was almost finished, and the shelves were close to empty; certainly there was nothing that might constitute the basis of a proper meal later on. The sight used to really stab at her, prompting an immediate worry about running low on funds, which in turn piqued a deeper concern about her longer-term prospects. That, at least, had been one relief of recent weeks, but this morning the sight of the empty fridge precipitated a realisation of disturbing practicality. She had paid off a couple of debts and indulged in a few treats of late, allowing her bank balance to run perilously low in the reassuring knowledge that she was due her month’s salary this Thursday. If Jim wasn’t there, she wasn’t getting paid.

This seemed to add an entire new level of starkness to her situation. It wasn’t just a matter of being worried for her uncle and scared of dealing with more pain, more grief.

She recalled the regret in Sergeant Collins’ expression. She didn’t doubt he would do his bit, but he hadn’t looked hopeful that his bit would lead to much. It wasn’t just his hands that were tied. He was going to ‘flag it up on the system’, but what if nobody took any notice, or they had their plate too full with prioritised duties to be able to give something so non-urgent their attention?

‘Why didn’t you come and look for me?’

She couldn’t stand there crying, waiting for her mum to come back or for another grown-up to take her hand and sort it all out for her. She was an adult with a job to do. It was time to go to work.

Motives

‘All right, victim, James McDiarmid: how’s his background profile coming along?’ Catherine asked, by way of drawing the incident room to attention. She was on her fourth cup of coffee to get through this, having been on her feet for around fourteen hours. Just the kind of first day back that served to rapidly erase all memory of your holiday, not to mention much of the restorative benefit.

She used to feel uncomfortably schoolmarmish when she was first in charge of these gatherings. This had been largely salved by reaching the understanding that the true value of such meetings wasn’t for the team to report their findings to her, but for her to assure herself that everybody knew what everybody knew. Assumed knowledge – and in particular the mutual assumption that the other person had passed something on – was a hazard that grew in direct proportion to the size of an investigation.