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Nasreen spoke. ‘And you reported this?’

      ‘Immediately on Friday night,’ she said. ‘After I was sick,’ she added matter-of-factly.

      Two days ago. ‘And what did they say?’

      ‘A PC Jones came to my house. He thought – well, he implied – that I had been confused.’

      Freddie tutted.

      ‘I tried ringing the hospitals, but no one would tell me if the girl had been admitted. Because I’m not family,’ Kate said. ‘I’m a witness, aren’t I? And I keep thinking what if they just left her there and no one knows?’

      Nasreen let her speak.

      ‘It was the early hours of Saturday morning by then. I’d had one glass of red wine, as I was working. That’s the ironic thing: I was only looking at the feed for research. I’m compiling a paper on sexual safety and the internet among teens for a conference in the autumn term,’ Kate said.

      Nasreen had planned to ask why the woman had clicked onto a live stream video titled ‘Live Sex’. It was an oddity – apart from the assault – in what Kate had presented so far. ‘Freddie said you’re a teacher?’

      ‘Yes, I’m head of Hackney High.’ She still had hold of her notebook. ‘I’ve been there over thirty years. I was born locally, and I stayed. It’s my community. My kids mean everything to me.’

      ‘I interviewed Kate a few years back.’ Freddie had remained spellbound during Kate’s report, but now she was picking at the label on her bottle. ‘She won a TESA award for the work she does at her school. For turning their results around. She pioneered an outreach scheme to provide positive role models for kids from broken homes.’

      ‘I have a good relationship with a local constable, PC Scott. I tried to contact him, but he’s on holiday with his family in the Algarve for a fortnight,’ Kate said.

      ‘All right for some,’ Freddie said.

      An award-winning head teacher who had turned around the reputation of an inner-city school. A fine upstanding member of the community who worked with the police. It lent validity to her claims about why she was watching that particular video. The Crown Prosecution would call that a good witness. There was no alteration in her voice or body posture when she spoke about either the video or her school. If she was a liar, she was a very good one. ‘Do you have kids of your own?’ Nasreen asked Kate.

      ‘No, I live alone,’ she answered.

      Nasreen nodded again. ‘And you didn’t recognise either the woman or the man in the film?’

      ‘No,’ said Kate. ‘There were two men. One was behind the camera. They were boys really. The one I could see may have been nineteen, the one whose voice I could hear sounded younger than that.’

      ‘Would you be able to provide a description of the man and the woman who were visible to help make a photofit of them?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ Kate faltered.

      That wasn’t unusual: most witnesses weren’t confident they’d be able to describe suspects they’d seen, especially when put on the spot. But when questioned correctly, they often came up with the goods.

      ‘We’ll do the photofits first then?’ Freddie had been typing notes into her phone as Kate was talking.

      Nasreen bristled. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. This isn’t our case, Freddie.’

      Kate’s facial muscles tightened. ‘You don’t believe me either.’

      ‘It’s not that,’ Nasreen said. ‘It’s just that we can’t confirm that what you saw was real.’ Nasreen knew what Saunders or Chips would say. There was no evidence.

      ‘Come on, Nas,’ Freddie said. ‘Talk to Burgone, he’d listen to you.’

      She doubted that very much. She wanted to help – this woman had obviously seen something awful – but they couldn’t police the world. ‘With the account deactivated, there’s no way to confirm the video feed was shot locally.’

      ‘It was London, it was tagged in London,’ said Kate.

      ‘That’s easily faked,’ Freddie said. ‘Annoyingly.’

      ‘It looked like local authority accommodation.’

      ‘You recognised it?’ Nasreen pushed.

      ‘No, it just had that feel.’ Kate was growing agitated. ‘I’ve travelled, I watch a lot of world cinema, everywhere has a different light. I know that light. I’ve been in flats like that. It was London, I’m certain of it.’

      Nasreen sighed. ‘I’m really sorry, Kate, but everything you have given us is circumstantial. There’s no concrete evidence that a crime has been committed here.’

      ‘Someone must be looking for the girl?’ Kate insisted.

      ‘Yeah, people just don’t disappear, do they?’ Freddie said.

      Well, they do actually. All the time. Nasreen tried to keep her face neutral. ‘I’ll run it through the Missing Persons Database: see if there’s anyone who’s been reported that matches the description you’ve given. And I’ll have someone check the hospitals.’ She didn’t hold out much hope.

      ‘That’s all we can do?’ Freddie said.

      Nasreen didn’t look at her friend. She didn’t need her guilt-tripping her for this. A teen girl with those stab wounds would have stood out on the regular intelligence reports that were circulated among officers. She didn’t doubt that what the woman had seen was real, but it probably was filmed abroad. It was likely Kate had stumbled onto a particularly nasty element of the sex trade: a trafficked girl who’d been brutalised on camera. She didn’t want to make it worse by telling her that what she’d seen was probably a murder. A snuff movie. She looked at her watch. ‘Freddie, we better get going.’

      ‘That’s it?’ Kate said.

      Nasreen felt sorry for the woman. ‘How have you been since the video? It must have been a very difficult thing to see.’

      Kate’s lips thinned. ‘I haven’t been sleeping well, but I’m a tough old girl, really. I’ve had to be in my job.’

      Nasreen didn’t doubt it. ‘I can recommend a grief counsellor, if you would like?’

      ‘I’d prefer to manage this myself.’ Kate gave a small conciliatory smile. ‘The doctor has given me some sleeping pills.’

      Nasreen nodded. Good. She was handling this in the best way possible. Reluctantly she stood. ‘It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Kate,’ she said, holding out her hand to shake. She wanted to make it better. ‘If I can ever do anything else to help you, perhaps something to do with the school, do let me know.’

      Kate clasped her hand. Kept eye contact. ‘Thank you, Sergeant. I appreciate the time you’ve taken today.’

      She felt she’d failed the woman, as they left the café. ‘Ready?’ she asked Freddie, trying to sound upbeat. ‘Moast won’t be impressed if you’re late for this session.’

      ‘We could at least try Saunders?’ Freddie had a familiar stubborn look on her face.

      Saunders already thought Nasreen was a waste of time, she wasn’t going to gift him more ammunition. ‘I can’t.’

      ‘It’s not right,’ Freddie said. ‘It’s not fair.’

      ‘Life’s not fair,’ Nasreen snapped. God, she sounded like her mother. When did that happen? Six months ago she might have tried harder, but she’d been burned since then. Caring too much didn’t lead you to make the best decisions. She had to be less emotional, more like Saunders. Maybe in a few years, when she’d recovered some ground, when her career was more stable, she could help the Kates of the world. But

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