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‘What do you think?’ Mullins said.

‘That she’s being forced into prostitution or pornography or something similar.’

‘And you think I might be involved in it?’

‘No,’ Wynne said. ‘But you might know someone who is.’

Mullins shook his head. ‘No. I don’t. I know those people exist, but I have nothing to do with them. They’re filth.’

‘I’m glad you’re so principled,’ Wynne said. ‘But I’m sure there’s something you could tell me.’

Mullins laughed. ‘It’s not principle,’ he said. ‘It’s lack of information. The scum who peddle that kind of shit keep themselves to themselves. It’s a very secretive world, Detective Inspector. It has to be. If people like me found out who they were, we’d take care of them. For good. We’re not as squeamish as you.’

Wynne felt her hopes deflate. She’d been right that Mullins would find it disgusting, but she was wrong that he would have anything he could tell her.

‘But you would inform us if you heard anything?’ she said.

He studied her. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I would. Just this once, I would.’

She stood up.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

3

DI Wynne knocked on the door of a semi-detached house on a quiet street about a mile from the Coopers’ house, in the village of Stockton Heath. It was a lively place, prosperous and growing, populated with a mixture of long-established inhabitants and more recently arrived commuters.

In Wynne’s experience, the arrival of new people changed the character of places like Stockton Heath: they were less embedded in the life of the village, less likely to call on their neighbours. Once, everyone would have known everyone’s business in the village. Now, people kept themselves to themselves.

She looked to her right. There was a large bay window. The curtains were open, but there was a blind drawn halfway down. Through the gap she could see a floral couch and a large television. To the left was a garage; it was closed, and no car was in the driveway.

She rang the doorbell again.

PC Edwards nodded at the side of the house. ‘Want me to take a look around the back?’

‘Give it another minute,’ she said. A few seconds later, she heard footsteps, then the sound of a chain being put in place. The door opened the length of the chain.

‘Yes?’ a man’s voice said. ‘How can I help you?’

Wynne gestured to Edwards to step back so that he would be visible to anyone looking through the side window. She wanted the occupant to see that it was the police.

‘We’d like to talk to you, Mr Best,’ Wynne said. ‘There’s something you might be able to help us with.’

‘What’s it about?’

‘It’s an ongoing inquiry.’

‘I’ve done nothing,’ Best replied.

‘I only want to talk to you.’

‘I have nothing to say. And you’re not coming in without a warrant. You can’t, and you know it.’

Wynne was expecting his answer. People like Best knew the system. They knew their rights, and they claimed them at every turn.

At least, they thought they knew the system. The system had some tricks of its own, and Wynne was not above using them, especially with people like Best.

Especially when something so important was on the line.