There was one notable and very welcome absence: DI Adrian Winkler, a man to whom Patrick had barely spoken since they came to blows, literally, on the Child Catcher case. He knew that Winkler was working on another murder at the moment, had seen him parading around the station self-importantly, flicking back his shoulder-length hair and puffing out his chest like a mating pigeon. Hearing that he wouldn’t have to work with Winkler on this one was the one good thing that had happened in the last forty-eight hours.

‘OK,’ Patrick began, all eyes focusing on him. ‘Welcome to the first briefing for Operation Urchin.’ This was the name the computer had generated. ‘Here’s what we know so far. Rose Sharp, fifteen years old, resident of Teddington. Rose’s parents are divorced and she lives with her mother. The father isn’t a suspect, before you wonder. He was away on business in Germany and is on his way back now.’

He went on to describe the scene where they’d found Rose, consulting his notepad, writing down several points on the whiteboard as he spoke.

‘The main points to consider about the crime scene are: One – the room was supposedly vacant, no key cards had been given out, so how did Rose and her murderer get in? Two – how did they get into the hotel room without being seen? We are checking lists of guests and staff, but so far there have been no hits. There was no CCTV in the hotel corridor, so we can’t tell if she went into the room willingly or not. Three – did she know her killer? If not, what persuaded her to go to a hotel room with him? Four – Rose’s clothes were missing from the scene. Where are they, and why did the killer take them? Rose’s mum has been through her daughter’s clothes and given us a description of what she thinks Rose was wearing. This information is on your printouts.’

Sally Sharp hadn’t seen Rose leave the house, but by checking her daughter’s wardrobe and the washing baskets she believed Rose had been wearing her new Top Shop jeans and a long-sleeved pink and white cotton top. ‘She always wears earrings too,’ Sally had said, her voice catching. ‘And a necklace that her dad gave her. It’s a locket. She keeps a photo of him inside it.’ She pointed to a poster on the wall. ‘Shawn.’

Then Sally Sharp had paused.

‘She was wearing her new underwear too.’ Avoiding Patrick’s eye, she went on. ‘She came home yesterday with a bag from Primark and I had a peek inside when she was in the loo.’ Sally had described the knickers: pink with the word ‘LUCKY’ printed across the front. ‘They’re not in her room.’

Patrick handed out jobs to the gathered officers. Wendy was instructed to help Gareth continue interviewing the guests and hotel staff. Martin was given the responsibility of checking Rose’s communications: social media, email and phone. Had she left any clues there?

‘Her phone was missing too,’ he pointed out. ‘She had a contract with O2, paid for by her mum. Martin, I need you to chase up getting the records. Preet, I want you to start talking to Rose’s friends. Had she said she was going to meet someone? Any boyfriends her mum didn’t know about?’

‘What secrets did she have?’ Wendy asked in her Black Country accent, as if she were thinking aloud. Seeing the look Patrick gave her, she said, ‘All teenage girls have secrets. If my mum and dad had known half the things me and my mates got up to . . .’

‘Yes, very true. But, according to her mum, Rose was a bit of an introvert. Spent most of her life in her bedroom.’

Wendy nodded. ‘Probably an online predator, then. Some guy pretending to be a fifteen-year-old arranges to meet her at a hotel; she freaks out when she sees he’s fat, bald and fifty; he knocks her over the head.’ She shrugged. ‘Simple.’

Patrick suppressed a laugh, seeing the daggers Carmella was shooting towards Wendy.

‘Yes, well, let’s not jump to any conclusions, eh?’

Wendy shrugged again. ‘All right. But I bet’cha that’s what it was.’

As Patrick was about to start talking again, the door opened and Detective Chief Inspector Suzanne Laughland, Patrick’s boss, slipped through.

‘Pretend I’m not here,’ she mouthed.

What with Wendy’s interruption and now Suzanne’s appearance, Patrick had lost the thread of what he wanted to say. He turned back to the whiteboard. He could feel Suzanne’s eyes on his back and all of a sudden felt hot, sweat breaking out beneath his white shirt.

He turned back around, trying not to be distracted by the sight of Suzanne tucking a strand of long blonde hair behind her ear.

‘The other thing to note about Rose Sharp is that she was a massive fan of OnTarget.’

‘Ooh, I love them,’ said Wendy.

‘Manufactured shit,’ muttered Martin.

‘All right,’ Patrick said. ‘This isn’t the time for a Culture Show debate about the merits of boy bands. I don’t think you’re the target audience, anyway, Martin.’

‘The OnTarget audience!’ Wendy almost shouted, laughing at her own joke and looking around in the hope that the others would join in.

Give me strength, thought Patrick.

‘The point is,’ he said, embarrassed at this display in front of Suzanne, ‘Rose was a fan. According to her mum, she was obsessed. She spent all her money on them, most of her time chatting about them online . . .’ He shook his head. ‘Talked about little else, apparently. OnTarget were her life. This fact is going to give the media an angle, make them more interested than they might have been otherwise. We need to be aware of that.’

‘They’re playing tonight,’ Wendy piped up.

‘OnTarget?’

‘Yeah. At Twickenham Stadium. I was thinking about going but couldn’t find anyone to come with me.’

‘What a surprise,’ Carmella said, eliciting laughter from everyone else. Wendy, though, looked hurt and Patrick felt sorry for her. It was unusual for Carmella to be bitchy, so he wondered what about Wendy had antagonised her.

‘Maybe I should go,’ Patrick said, enjoying the shocked expressions on the faces of his colleagues.

‘I thought you were more of a Cure fan?’ Carmella said.

Out of the corner of his eye, Patrick could see that Suzanne’s lip was twitching.

‘I am. But if Rose was a prominent member of the OnTarget community, this could be a good chance to meet some of them.’ He pointed at Carmella.

‘Oh no, please . . .’

‘And you can come too.’

Chapter 5

Day 2 – Jess and Chloe

Oh my God, that was just so amazing, wasn’t it? Wasn’t that incredible? Did you see the way Shawn winked at me? I’m on such a high right now. He winked right at me, it was definitely me, wasn’t it, do you think he recognised me from my profile picture?’

‘Oh shut up, how thick are you, Jess? He’s got fucking fifteen million Twitter followers; do you really think he’d recognise you from the stage forty feet away? . . . So where do we go, then, for this vigil thing?’

The two girls exited the stadium, borne along on a wave of identical over-excited girls in OnTarget merchandise, with identical long ironed hair limp with sweat, most with mascara running down their hot red faces. Chloe consulted her phone, where she had saved a screenshot of the directions that had been posted on Twitter. Jess couldn’t stand still. She was jumping from foot to foot, bursting with adrenalin from the gig.

‘What happens at a vigil anyway? We don’t have to, like, say prayers or anything, do we? Or sing? I’m not singing.’

‘It’s not church, Jess, so I doubt it. But I don’t know either. We’ll just have to see, won’t we?’

‘Wonder who’ll be there?’

Chloe pointed in the direction of the hot dog concession. ‘Dunno. Loads of people from the forum, I think. I reckon it’s that way. Exit P, by Gate 12. There.’