When Natalie woke she found David’s side of the bed empty. She turned onto her side and squinted at her mobile. It was almost eight and she’d slept like a log. She languished for a moment in the warmth of the covers, easing herself into the morning. Outside, a car door banged and an engine spluttered into life. A dog yapped for a couple of minutes. The street was waking up. These were familiar sounds. The detached house in the small community of Castergate had been their home for many years. She and David had bought it when they were expecting Josh, and although they were in danger of outgrowing it with their children now both needing more space, it was still their home; a special place.

Natalie stretched and threw back the covers. A rush of cool air circled her bare ankles as she slipped them into the furry animal-face slippers Leigh had bought her for her last birthday. Forty-five next December. She needed little reminder that time was passing quickly. David was troubled by ageing more than she was. That was due to having lost a vocation he loved and plunging into an abyss of despair. He’d not managed to get any further full-time employment and his work as an online translator wasn’t as fulfilling as his job with a law firm. He’d begun to turn the focus of his attention onto himself too often.

Her thoughts flicked to Charlotte. She’d had too much time on her hands.

She ambled downstairs in her pyjamas and dressing gown.

David greeted her with a smile and a mug of tea. ‘Toast will be ready in a jiffy.’

‘What’s this? Sunday morning and you’re up and about and making me breakfast. Where are the kids?’

‘Still asleep. You looked done in last night. Thought you needed some TLC.’

She took the mug in both hands and sipped. It was exactly as she liked it. ‘I got a text from Leigh. She was upset about not going shopping.’

‘Yes. She had a meltdown. She wanted to buy some boots and some clothes from Superdry to wear bowling in two weeks’ time. Said there was a group of them from her class going and, from what she said, I think some of them are boys.’ He threw her a meaningful look.

‘Ah, that’s why it was so urgent. She wanted to know when we could next go and I can’t commit. If I can’t get time off, maybe I ought to let her get something online. What do you reckon? She needs some new boots.’

‘Up to you.’

‘I’m not too keen for her to shop online. I’d rather she tried clothes on in a shop. No chance then of having to return it or it not fitting properly.’

‘I suppose I could take her if it’s so important to her. Hasn’t she got other clothes she can wear?’

‘Probably but she obviously wants to get something special for the bowling. She’s been saving her pocket money.’

David nodded. ‘Okay. If you’re tied up next weekend, I’ll take them both to Manchester.’

‘Thanks.’ It was one problem she could put aside, allowing the case to have her full attention.

‘My dad and Pam have invited us over for Sunday lunch.’

She suddenly understood the reason for his unusually thoughtful actions and behaviour. He’d agreed to the shopping trip without complaint. She braced herself for a spat.

‘It’s okay,’ he said, holding up a hand. ‘I know you’re heading a murder investigation. I don’t expect you to come along.’

She waited. There was more. She could tell. He was rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous tell that he was going to say something else.

‘I understand you’re busy but if you could drop by for half an hour, maybe. Just to show face. Her son’s going to be there. Give me some moral support.’

There it was: David didn’t want to go alone. He was unsure about how to deal with the new woman and family in his father’s life. David was still a little boy at heart.

‘What time are you due there?’

‘Twelve thirty.’

‘I’ll see if I can get away.’

‘Great. Oh shit! The toast.’ He leapt towards the toaster, cursing as the bread emerged slightly burnt.

‘It’s okay. I’ll have it like that. Slap some extra jam on it to hide the taste,’ she said. There was no point in starting the day badly. She’d try and slip away for a short while. Her being there would obviously mean a lot to David. That’s what relationships were about, giving and taking.

---

Lucy was online, scrolling through Charlotte Brannon’s Instagram photos.

‘Nice,’ said Bethany, leaning over her shoulder and pointing to a picture of Charlotte in a 1980s stretchy black minidress with a lace neckline adorned with teardrops and rhinestones. She’d posed with her wide mouth slightly open, coral lips shining, and glossy hair scraped back in a casual fashion. ‘That’d suit you.’

‘Please tell me you’re joking,’ said Lucy. ‘I don’t do lacy and I certainly don’t do bling.’

‘You should try something like that. You’d be surprised how good it’d look on you. Make a change from your usual rock-chick style. Not that I don’t love that look.’ Bethany dropped onto the settee near Lucy and, balancing the bowl on her belly, spooned cereal from it. Lucy continued searching through the pictures. Charlotte’s style was like her personality – it wasn’t consistent. In one photo she’d be in gypsy-sleeved outfits with flowing skirts, and in another, a tight black leather skirt and crop top that exposed most of her flesh.

‘Any idea what time you’ll be home tonight?’ Bethany asked, letting the spoon fall into the bowl.

‘Sorry. You know what it’s like when we’re on a murder investigation, even on Sundays.’

‘No problem. Spud and I will veg out here and watch something on Netflix.’ The baby had acquired its nickname only recently. Over a meal of baked potatoes, Bethany had mentioned it would probably have grown to about three to four inches in size at this stage of the pregnancy, more or less the size of the potato on her plate. Lucy had immediately named it Spud.

‘You not seeing your folks today?’ Bethany and Lucy often went around on a Sunday for a catch-up with Bethany’s parents.

‘They’ve gone to Devon for a weekend break.’

‘We should do that too. Get you some fresh air.’

‘I get plenty of air here.’

‘I mean sea air. It’ll be good for you and the baby.’

Bethany smiled. ‘Why not? I’ll find out where they’re staying and we’ll go down when you get your next weekend off. Best do it soon. We’ll be full on when this little one is born.’

Lucy spun around and studied her partner. Bethany had large, serious brown eyes, long mousy hair and a nose she hated because it was hooked, but Lucy loved everything about her. Bethany was the gentlest, kindest soul she knew. Whatever her own concerns about raising a child, she had every confidence in Bethany. She’d be the perfect mother.

‘Who is she?’ Bethany asked. She rarely enquired about police work. ‘She looks beautiful. Beautiful yet sad.’

Lucy hadn’t noticed the sorrow in Charlotte’s face before, but Bethany was right. Charlotte’s smile never reached her eyes, and in some photographs she appeared wistful. ‘Charlotte Brannon.’ Lucy didn’t want to give too much away. She didn’t want to upset Bethany with any of the details and certainly didn’t want to mention Alfie. ‘She was murdered on Friday night. It’s a tricky case. Can’t seem to get any leverage.’

Bethany pushed herself up, empty bowl in hand. ‘You will,’ she said, dropping a kiss onto Lucy’s head. She moved off into the kitchen. Lucy clicked onto Charlotte’s fashion blog once more and read through a few of the articles going back to the start of the year. She noticed there was a gap around the time she’d have been three months pregnant, when Charlotte had lost interest in her blog before deciding to pick it up again. It married up with what her friend Frankie had told them.

She picked up the list of websites Charlotte had visited in the last month and glanced down it. Mike hadn’t been kidding when he said there was plenty of fodder. Charlotte spent hours looking at almost anything and everything to do with fashion and make-up, along with searches for celebrities, fashionistas and top brands, amongst a host of other sites. She flicked through the list, hoping for something to catch her eye, but spotted nothing.

‘If you need to be at work for nine, you’d better get going,’ called Bethany from the other room.

‘Shit, is it that time already? I lost track.’ She switched off the computer and grabbed her black jacket. ‘I’ll see you later.’

‘We’ll be here,’ said Bethany, who’d emerged from the kitchen, a hand on her belly.

‘Bye, Spud!’ Lucy blew a kiss to Bethany’s stomach and raced off.

---

Natalie was surprised to find Ian already in the office waiting for her.

‘I’ve spoken to all the residents at Maddison Court about security cameras. Only one family on the entire estate uses them; that’s Mr Henry Knowles at number 14. I asked him to check his footage for us.’

‘Where is his house in relation to the Brannons’?’

‘Four doors down. It’s closer to the main road than the other houses.’

‘Okay. Good work.’

‘Morning!’

Natalie spun around. Mike was leaning against the door frame, dressed casually in jeans and a light-blue shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi. How’s it going?’

Natalie gave a small smile. ‘Piecing it together but not getting the full picture yet.’

‘I have some information for you that might help or hinder your investigation. Hope it’s the former. I had Adam’s DNA sample expedited. I pulled some strings and it was examined overnight. According to the results of the paternity test, Adam is definitely not Alfie’s father.’

‘Thanks for that, Mike.’

‘Not a problem. I knew it was top priority. I’m heading off now. It’s my day to have Thea.’ A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Mike’s wife, Nicole, had recently left him, taking their four-year-old daughter, Thea, with her. Although on the surface he appeared to be coping without them, Natalie knew from their chats he was missing them, especially his daughter.

‘Then go and enjoy your day off.’

‘I shall. If you need anything, Naomi is in.’ Naomi Singh was one of the most dedicated forensic scientists on Mike’s team. He patted the door frame lightly and then, with a farewell gesture, disappeared.

Ian looked up. ‘You want me to carry on searching for Adam’s car?’

‘Please. We only have Lee Webster’s word at the moment that Adam was with him on Friday night.’ There would be some footage – a surveillance camera or ANPR point – that would confirm Adam went to the pub when he said he did, or that he left Lee’s house at eleven forty and drove home.

She picked up the notes she’d made on Phoebe Hill. Something had been bothering her. Phoebe had talked about Charlotte releasing her rabbit and killing a kitten and behaving outrageously when she shared a flat with Phoebe in London. She’d complained about Charlotte spending their parents’ money and these were valid reasons for her disliking or even hating Charlotte. However, in Natalie’s experience, something majorly important needed to have happened for sisters to fall out to such an extent they avoided each other. After all, Charlotte and Phoebe had been housemates together in London long after Charlotte killed the kitten and let the rabbit escape. Phoebe had looked after her when they shared the flat and had kept her sister’s secrets. What had happened to change their relationship? She and Frances had crossed swords on numerous occasions, but what had driven them apart had been serious – truly serious. Phoebe hadn’t told Natalie everything. The more Natalie thought about it, the more she was convinced of that fact.

She entered Phoebe’s name into a general search engine, not really expecting to learn much more about the woman. There were a few photographs of her with Jed Malloney. She recognised the blond-haired drummer to be the same young man she’d seen in the corridor the day before, arm around his fiancée’s shoulder.

‘You know anything about a band called The Darkest Knights?’ she asked Ian.

‘They’re a rock group. Scarlett’s a massive fan. Lead singer is Seth Thorndike. They were on one of those television shows where they battled it out with other bands to become famous. I didn’t watch it but Scarlett did. I’m not into rock.’

‘Am I missing something?’ asked Lucy, sidling into her seat.

‘Just discussing The Darkest Knights. Mike prioritised Adam’s DNA for us and has confirmed Adam isn’t Alfie’s father.’

‘Wow! That was super fast. He only got the sample yesterday evening.’

‘Yes, he surprised me too. We really need to find out who is Alfie’s father now. It might well be relevant.’

‘Whoa!’ Ian’s voice rose.

Natalie’s head snapped up.

‘Got him,’ said Ian.

Natalie raced across.

‘The Bentley Bentayga,’ said Ian, his neck flushing. ‘That’s Adam at the wheel.’

Natalie craned her neck. ‘That’s definitely him. When and where was this taken?’

‘An ANPR camera close to the White Horse pub in Samford picked him up. Oh! That’s not right. What time did he say he met up with Lee Webster?’

‘Just after ten,’ said Lucy.

Ian shook his head. ‘Not possible. This photo was taken at ten fifty-five, almost an hour later. The car’s headed in the direction of the pub, not away from it.’

Natalie let out a hiss. ‘Bastards. They’ve been lying to us. Haul their arses back in here. Now!’