Bex’s voice had dropped an octave into a forced calmness. ‘What are you trying to say?’

‘Nothing, I’m asking if you’ve seen them. Adam says he remembers them being there when he got home from work yesterday.’

‘Are you asking if I nicked them?’

‘No, I’m asking if you’ve seen them.’

Somewhere outside a pair of birds were singing to each other, probably complaining about the weather and wondering when it was time to go south. A car blazed along the street in front, wheels spinning as they weaved in and out of the parked cars in a rush to get to the next give way sign. Elsewhere, a lawnmower chugged its way into life, spluttering burnt fuel into the atmosphere as its owner took advantage of the temporary respite from the rain.

Inside, there was only silence as the two women stared at each other. Jessica was good at this game – she had played it enough times – but this was different because now she felt like the guilty one. Bex might have been thinner than she was, perhaps not as strong, as fast, or as experienced, but she was definitely better than Jessica at this.

Without a word, Bex stood, turned, and thundered her way out of the kitchen, up the stairs.

Jessica followed, halting at the bottom of the stairs: ‘Bex, wait . . .’

Thump, thump, thump, slam!

Bex ran down the stairs so quickly that she stumbled on the bottom one, only just righting herself before falling. She was wearing a pair of jeans but hadn’t done the button up and they were flapping loosely underneath the top she’d been wearing when she turned up on Jessica’s doorstep. She was clasping her rucksack, glaring daggers at Jessica as she turned it upside down and emptied everything onto the hallway floor.

Thick socks, fingerless gloves, three identical long-sleeved cotton tops, a T-shirt, a pair of jeans, a rolled-up fleece, half-a-dozen pairs of knickers, bras, more socks, two pairs of balled-up thick dark tights, a metal spoon, a bobble hat, a scarf, a toothbrush, a fork, a knife, a tin opener.

Into the side pockets: a small pair of scissors, a handful of rubber bands, a much stabbier knife that clanged off the wall as Bex threw it in Jessica’s general direction.

Jessica stood looking at the sharpness of the blade as Bex dropped the empty bag on the floor and began turning out her pockets, ignoring Jessica’s protestations that it wasn’t necessary.

A scrunched-up twenty-pound note, a ripped fiver, a handful of coins and a hair tie.

‘There!’ Bex shouted, fastening her trousers and straightening her coat. ‘That’s all I own. Most of it’s nicked. If you want to take it back to the shops then fine – but I didn’t take your stupid candlestick things.’

‘I’m sorry, I was just asking.’

Bex began bundling the items back into her bag, far more haphazardly than the way she’d described before. Jessica crouched and picked up the blade: one single piece of metal with a thick handle that slotted all too comfortably into her palm. The blade wasn’t particularly long but it was wide and ferociously sharp.

You don’t know who she is, Jess.

Bex held her hand out, wanting the weapon.

‘Why have you got this?’ Jessica asked.

Bex spat the reply. ‘Why do you think?’ When Jessica didn’t answer immediately, Bex snatched it away. ‘You think I go around robbing people with it?’

Jessica tried to say no but she’d seen too many reports of knifepoint robberies to think differently and she’d only just finished dealing with Bones. Bex saw the hesitation and then the anger in her eyes was replaced by tears. ‘That’s what you think of me?’

‘No, I . . .’

Bex finished cramming her belongings into her rucksack, stuffing the knife into its side pocket, and slinging the bag across her back. ‘Forget it. What do you think it’s like being a girl on the streets by yourself? Do you think you tell someone to piss off and they turn around and do it?’

‘I know it’s not like that!’

Bex pushed past Jessica with her shoulder and opened the front door but Jessica pushed against it, trying to force it closed again.

‘Please don’t go.’

If Jessica had been in any doubt about how Bex had managed to get away with picking people’s pockets, then the teenager showed her once and for all, slipping underneath her arms and gliding through the door in a single fluid movement before Jessica could lay a finger on her. In a flash, she was outside.

Jessica began to follow but Bex was already halfway along the path, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out the front-door key Jessica had given her. She stopped momentarily, throwing it as hard as she could in Jessica’s direction before running away from the house and along the street.

30

Adam arrived home in the early afternoon, reminding Jessica that he’d told her the previous evening he was on a half-day. He knew instantly there was something wrong but Jessica could barely get the words out. She could deal with criminals, threats, bodies, horrendous interviews with witnesses and most other things the job threw at her – but knowing her big mouth had sent Bex back onto the streets to fend for herself was too much to take.

She’d tried to follow but Bex hadn’t got by for the length of time she’d been on the streets by being careless. She had headed into the narrow alleyways that ran along the back of the houses opposite Jessica’s and disappeared. Jessica knew a little about where Manchester’s homeless community congregated but doubted Bex would be appearing there any time soon; not to mention the fact she had to work late that night.

Together, Adam and Jessica hunted through every room of the house but the silver candlesticks that had belonged to his grandmother had definitely gone. Adam asked if they could have been burgled but the more obvious things thieves would have taken – the television, the laptop – were exactly where they always had been. Jessica didn’t own much jewellery, certainly nothing expensive, but they checked the bottom drawer of the dresser on Adam’s side of the bed. As well as a pendant she’d had since she was a child, it was where they kept their passports and paper driving licences. Everything was there, but Adam insisted things weren’t right, saying he’d left them stacked in a different order. Jessica didn’t know either way, but he was anal about things like that so she had no reason to doubt him.

The obvious conclusion was that Bex had been through their things but Jessica didn’t believe it. Why would she? As for the candlesticks, neither Jessica nor Adam knew if they were worth anything; they’d been kept as a reminder of everything they’d lost in the house fire and almost as a joke because they were so archaic and unlike anything they would otherwise own. Jessica had never lived on the streets but she knew the type of thing that would be sold for cash – and there were enough items around the house that Bex could have got money for if that’s what she wanted.

All of that left the disturbing question of what exactly had gone on. Whoever had put the letter with the symbol on through her door knew where she lived – but Jessica had no idea who had left it, nor what they might have broken into the house for. Jessica knew she should tell Adam about it but it was another example of the job following her home and she was carrying too much guilt about that as it was.

The final part of the puzzle was revealed as they checked the doors and windows – the back door was unlocked, even though Adam insisted he’d locked it. That was something that couldn’t be pinned on Bex because she’d only ever had a front-door key.

Someone, somewhere had it in for them. Or, perhaps more specifically, her.

Jessica twiddled the dial on the side of the passenger’s seat and jolted the rear of the seat backwards until she was as horizontal as she could manage.