Jessica wanted to keep Izzy away from any direct contact and had asked her to concentrate on finding anything further that linked Nicholas to any of the Sextons, Gordons, or Kayleigh. She felt sure there must be something under the surface.

In the meantime, all of the test results were back from the scene of Oliver’s disappearance at the Sextons’ house and the break-in at Kayleigh’s. They hadn’t found anything in the way of fingerprints or DNA from either site that was useable. The only useful lead they had helped generate was the discovery of footprints in the back garden at Kayleigh’s. Unfortunately, that had only led them back to a delivery driver who had left a parcel at the rear of the house a few days prior to Oliver’s body being discovered. Kayleigh told them it was something that happened regularly on her estate.

In all, Jessica was not having the best of times at work and Adam was certainly acting strangely at home. It wasn’t a massive deal but, in the past, he would regularly leave his mobile phone on the arm of the sofa when he did things like go to the toilet. Now he carried it with him everywhere. Jessica didn’t need to use any of her skills to know something was going on but, at the same time, didn’t want to accuse him of anything. In some ways it was worse because he acted perfectly fine with her and joked around in the same way he always did. He even arranged for them to have a house viewing and, as much as Jessica had been willing for something to come up at work to get her out of it, the active cases they were working on stayed frustratingly immobile.

For Jessica, buying a house – especially with another person – was perhaps the final aspect of admitting she was definitely old. Well, that and having kids, which was something that was certainly not on her agenda. She had always rented up until a few months ago when she moved into Adam’s. Even though that never felt like her house, it did at least allow her to convince herself Adam was the grown-up, not her.

The estate agent was clearly annoyed to be working on a Sunday, which Jessica wouldn’t have minded if he wasn’t trying to disguise it with an over-the-top cheery voice. People who clearly hated their job she could take, happy people she could not – especially if they were putting it on.

Adam knew her well enough to realise her frustration and squeezed her hand as the estate agent fumbled with the front door and led them inside. The man’s spiky hair reminded her of Rowlands from a few years ago and his breath smelled of mint, which Jessica told herself was to cover up the amount of alcohol he had no doubt had the night before.

‘This is the living room,’ he said enthusiastically, showing them into what was, quite obviously, a living room.

‘I was wondering,’ Jessica mumbled loudly enough for Adam to hear.

‘As you can see, the room does need some work but obviously that’s reflected in the price. How about I give you a few moments alone and then I’ll show you the kitchen?’

Adam nodded an acceptance as the agent left the room while Jessica stared at the wall. ‘“Needs some work”? There’s a bloody hole in the wall.’

‘The ad did say, “needs modernising”.’

Jessica crouched and put her hand into the gap in the brickwork where there was a small feathering of insulation. ‘Did it say, “needs a bit of building”?’

Adam laughed. ‘It’s just an old fireplace that’s been taken out. It’s easy enough to fill in and re-paper.’

‘Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I generally prefer to buy houses that don’t have large holes in them.’

‘How many houses have you bought?’

Jessica couldn’t stop herself from giggling. ‘I don’t know. I can’t keep count, seven or eight? I’ve got a holiday home in Barbados.’

The rest of the tour went largely the same way, with a sink that was hanging off the bathroom wall by a pipe being described as ‘in need of some plumbing work’, and exposed electrical wires where there should have been a light fitting ‘something that will need to be looked at’. Jessica would have been only half-surprised to find there was no roof, something the estate agent would surely have called ‘a minor inconvenience’.

She wondered if they should get him involved with their own destroyed property. The fact large parts had burned down and others had collapsed would no doubt provide ‘a unique living arrangement’.

As Adam offered a degree of interest, Jessica switched off from the tour. She was thinking of ways the agent could come and work for their press office, where he could call dead bodies ‘life-impeded’ and describe stab victims as ‘vulnerable to pointed objects’.

Before she could come up with anything further, she found herself standing at the top of the stairs with both men staring at her. It was obvious one of them had just asked a question.

‘Sorry?’ Jessica said, looking from one to the other.

She saw the moment of recognition in the estate agent’s eyes as he figured out her ‘aah’s and ‘ooh’s of the past ten minutes had not been genuine.

‘I was simply wondering if this might interest you, Mrs Compton,’ he repeated.

Jessica looked at Adam, then the man. She felt Adam squeezing her hand. ‘It’s not Mrs Compton.’

The agent stumbled over his reply. ‘Oh, right, sorry, I just assumed . . .’

‘We’ll let you know,’ Adam interjected before any further damage could be done.

Jessica didn’t need to answer Adam’s ‘I take it you don’t fancy it?’ question as they reached the end of the driveway – she couldn’t think of too many worse ways to be spending a weekend.

Because it had been a nice-looking morning, Adam had convinced her to walk to the viewing. As they cut through a selection of alleyways, Jessica wanted to ask him what was really going on with his phone and their laptop but couldn’t bring herself to completely believe there was a problem. Instead they walked in an uncomfortable silence until they reached the entrance to a park that linked the estate to their destination. The early morning sun had been replaced by the usual grey haze which so often seemed to hang over the city, a breeze whipping along the paths. Jessica was regretting not bringing her pilfered jacket and was about to suggest heading for a nearby shopping centre where they could catch a taxi, when she saw a boy leaning up against the fence.

Jessica had always been terrible with children’s ages unless they were babies, and she barely knew the difference between a seven-year-old and a thirteen-year-old. In general, they were just small, probably annoying, people.

As they passed the child, he caught Jessica’s eye and she could see that, although he wasn’t crying, his eyes were red. There were dirty scuff marks on the palms of his hands and smears of mud on his arms.

‘Are you all right . . . mate?’ Jessica asked, not knowing how to approach a child. Was calling someone ‘mate’ considered grooming according to police guidelines? Probably – most things were. She remembered her mother constantly telling her when she was young not to talk to strangers. Now she was the stranger.

His brown hair was ruffled and dirty and Jessica could see an additional mark over one of his eyes as she crouched onto one knee. ‘Where’s your mum?’

‘I don’t know,’ he replied, his eyes filling with tears.

Jessica was feeling more and more uncomfortable. ‘Did you come here with someone?’

The boy nodded.

‘Where did you last see them?’

He turned and pointed towards a small play park a few hundred metres away. ‘I was playing there and Mummy said she would be waiting by the gates.’

Although Jessica felt confident dealing with most situations, the one thing that always panicked her was children. She looked at Adam, making sure the child couldn’t see her, and pulled her best ‘I don’t know what to do’ face, trying to raise her eyebrows in a ‘have you noticed he’s a kid?’ way, just in case that wasn’t apparent.