‘You said that you were a photographer now. Is that for a magazine?’

Everyone assumed that. But she’d learned not to be offended.

‘No. I show my work in galleries.’ That sounded so pretentious. ‘I mean, I take photographs that my gallery then sells.’ Even though her work had been written about – and highly praised – in critical journals, she was careful not to define it as art. Well, at least not to other people. ‘It’s in Santa Monica. The Sansom. Have you heard of it?’

‘No, sorry.’

Suddenly Kate felt foolish. Why on earth would she have heard of it? What a stupid thing to say. But she felt apologising would only make it worse.

‘In fact, I’m meant to be working on a series of photographs for a new exhibition.’

‘What’s it about?’

‘Waves.’ The answer sounded trite, pathetic. ‘Waves as they swell, as they grow and as they break and die.’ That didn’t sound much better.

‘That’s what you were doing when -’

‘When I found the little girl. Yes.’

The two women fell silent. Kate thought about the parents of Sara-Jane. She wondered how Susan was getting on. Perhaps she’d recommend a doctor for her, after all. But Susan would probably feel as offended as she herself had done when Dr Cruger had suggested she see a shrink. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all. In fact, she hadn’t yet done anything about finding another doctor for herself. That was another thing on her list.

‘I think we’re nearly here,’ said Kate, turning down onto West Sunset Boulevard and then onto Tamarind Avenue.

She glanced in the rearview mirror as she parked. The constant presence of the unmarked car, with the two protection officers, made her feel a little safer.

‘Are you sure you’re going to be okay with this?’ asked Kate. ‘There’s no need for you to come in with me.’

‘I think I’d like to,’ said Cassie, forcing a weak smile. ‘Really I would.’

‘If at any stage you want to leave, just let me know and we’ll go. Okay?’

‘Okay.’

They walked arm in arm down the street until they came to an apartment building that looked like it had been built in the thirties or forties. The kind of place, Kate thought, that used to house aspiring actors and actresses who had travelled from Kansas or Alabama or Portland or wherever in search of fame. She remembered the story her father used to tell of a woman born in London who came to New York and then LA in the hope of becoming an actress. After one failure too many she had climbed up to the Hollywood sign and thrown herself off, killing herself instantly. She had been cremated in the cemetery that stood at the end of Tamarind Avenue, the other side of Santa Monica Boulevard. Saul often used to take her to Hollywood Forever cemetery and show her the graves and niches of the stars in the hope that the repetition of such sorry tales would squash any ambitions she might have had to become an actress.

‘Here we are,’ said Kate, running her finger down the series of names by the door. ‘Apartment 312.’

She pressed the buzzer and waited. A moment later the door opened and the two women stepped into a nondescript stairwell, furnished with a table covered with free-sheets and fliers and a couple of mountain bikes. Across the hallway there was an elevator so narrow it looked as if it could only hold two people. Kate looked at it with suspicion and fear, the light of its call button an evil red eye.

‘It’s only two flights up. Do you mind walking?’ asked Kate.

Kate guided Cassie up the stairs and along a narrow corridor that, on one side, opened onto and overlooked a central courtyard.

‘Remember, she’s likely to be as distressed as you are,’ said Kate, stopping on the corridor and squeezing Cassie’s hand a little tighter. ‘By the sounds of it, Roberta’s been trying to forget her father just as much as you have.’

‘I can’t imagine what it must have been like to live with that monster,’ said Cassie, almost in a whisper. ‘Let alone be the daughter of such a man.’

‘It’s good that she agreed to see us,’ said Kate. ‘But she knows something is wrong and I suppose she wants to find out more. I think she also feels a certain gratitude towards Bill Vaughan. She knows that he spared her a great deal of heartache. When I mentioned on the phone that I had worked with him on the case she seemed to open up.’

They continued to walk along the corridor until they stood outside 312. They pressed the bell and a moment later the door opened. Kate had never met Roberta before and she was immediately struck by her. A slight creature she looked more like a girl than a woman. She had light auburn hair, pale skin and a few oat-coloured freckles around her nose and mouth. She smiled as she stretched out her hand to greet her callers, but Kate noticed that there was a sadness in her light blue eyes.

‘Hi, I’m Kate Cramer and this is Cassie. Cassie Verginer.’

‘Hi, there.’ She looked down to the ground, as if she were a little ashamed. ‘Come on in. Sorry everything is a bit of a mess, but I’ve only just finished work.’

Roberta led the way into a sparsely furnished lounge consisting of a blue Futon and an old wooden rocking chair. She caught Kate looking at the storage crates in the far corner of the room.

‘I’ve been here for two or three months, but I still haven’t had time to unpack. Sorry, there’s not much room, but please sit down.’

Kate guided Cassie towards the sofa and then took a seat next to her.

‘Would you like some coffee? Tea? Juice?’

‘We don’t want to put you to any trouble,’ said Cassie.

‘No, it’s fine. I’ve got some coffee on the go anyhow.’

Roberta disappeared into the small kitchen to make the coffee while Kate and Cassie remained sitting in silence. A few moments later Roberta returned with a tray of coffee and biscuits.

‘I really admire your kind of work,’ said Cassie. ‘When I was losing my sight I had the most wonderful care from the nurses at the clinic. Not just with physical things, you know, but in terms of support. It must be terribly draining, though.’

‘Yes, it is, at times,’ said Roberta, sitting down in the rocking chair. ‘Of course there are moments when you think it’s just too much, and it is tiring, but the rewards are high. Obviously I’m talking about the personal rewards, not the financial ones.’ She gestured around the apartment with a thin smile of apology.

‘Did you always want to be a nurse?’ asked Kate.

‘I’m not sure. But I do remember dreaming about being nurse when I was a little girl. I would dress up in a little outfit my best friend’s mom made me and pretend that I was helping someone get better. For some reason, in my head it was always a lady who was ill. Of course now, I realise what I was doing was trying to bring my own mother back.’