Page 87 of The Unforgiven

Darcy nodded, slowly, as if she was realising something. “It isn’t random, or someone who’s got beef against women. Do you think the two women you’re looking for did it?”

“Or maybe they’re victims already or future victims. Kelly-Anne Marsh and Sophie Davies.” I gave her the names. “Don’t release a podcast tonight – you’re just getting a head’s up.”

“Why haven’t you been able to find them? I thought you had access to loads of databases?”

“We do. But Kelly-Anne hasn’t left a trace anywhere for seven years, and we’re still narrowing down which Sophie Davies it is to be able to find out where she is now.” Which was proving to be more painstaking that we’d anticipated. “All the databases do at this point is give us more names to chase. We have to request National Insurance numbers for each one and then see if there’s been any name changes, and we haven’t been able to work out which is our Sophie Davies yet.” A couple of DCs were working a late shift, going through what information they were able to yield.

“And Kelly-Anne’s just disappeared. Could she be dead?”

“She packed her things and left a note, saying she wanted a fresh start. People do that, sometimes.” Said the woman who would never use her birthname. I’d done the same thing, created myself a new identity when I moved to Manchester.

Maybe Kelly-Anne had done the same thing. Maybe she’d started her degree again, with an assumed identity – the only problem with that was your National Insurance number didn’t change, even when your name does.

Unless you give a different National Insurance number.

I messaged Vinny.

Find out what other women dropped out of the same psychology course as Kelly-Anne from Leeds University at the same time.

Darcy watched me, fascinated. “Do you ever switch off from a case?”

I focused back on her, feeling like I’d been separated from reality for a second. “No. I don’t think I do.”

“Do you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

“I have a boyfriend but he’s cheating on me with my flatmate.” I slurped the rest of the cocktail.

“Really? Why’s he still your boyfriend then?”

“Because I’ve been too busy with the case to get round to telling him. And then I’ll need to find somewhere else to live.” Which was the crux of it, although I had an idea of where I could move to while I finally sorted my shit out and bought my own home.

“True. Want another cocktail?”

I debated it. One was enough, but April, so far, was at least three months too long, so I said yes, as long as we didn’t talk about the case anymore.

I had ideas to percolate.

Cavan called just as I got off the tram near the flat, full of mirth and half-embarrassment at picking up an injury during football practice. He wanted to know if I had time for a drink now, as he was out on Burton Road and hadn’t seen me for days.

It felt like longer, a strange passing of time where I was paused, searching for a ghost, the rest of life happening around me.

I declined, managed to make small talk, and wondered why he’d bothered calling when the easiest thing to do would be to let everything fizzle out. I’d overheard him bragging at the party to a friend about me being a detective, so I’d wondered if that was some of it.

I ended the call when I saw a now-familiar figure lingering outside my flats, pretending to look at his phone.

Atlas, or whatever his real name was - it couldn’t be any odder than Atlas – was waiting for someone, probably me.

“Hello, stranger.” I stopped, standing about five feet from him.

He slipped his phone into his back pocket and folded his arms. “Home late?”

“Keeping tabs on me now. You could’ve just phoned me. You have my number.” A bird shook the branches of a nearby tree, making me startle.

“I was in the area. Sophie Davies – the one you’re looking for – became Sophie Linwood. She’s a nurse at the Northern Acute Care Trust. Works as a theatre nurse in cardiology.”

We’d started to walk together away from the flats, away from the main road, the Edwardian and Victorian houses standing like guards either side of the street.

“How did you find that out?” I didn’t doubt he was right.