Stolen. Paul Finch

no, no … she resisted that idea strenuously.

      They only had fragments of information, none of which necessarily married up. This whole thing could still turn out to be nothing. And the only way they could make firm judgements on that was if they started gathering and collating some real evidence.

      No. 8, Atkinson Row and the backstreet behind it were now officially designated crime scenes. The first CSIs would be there later today. That could only help. In addition, there were witness statements to be taken. As soon as Tessa Payne checked in, Lucy would send her to speak to the Rodwells – because she herself had someone else she needed to speak to, and that would be far from straightforward. If she wanted to learn more about these alleged missing homeless, to try and work out whether they actually had disappeared, rather than left the area of their own volition, the only thing to do was go and talk to the homeless themselves.

      Or at least to their spokesperson.

      ‘Sister Cassie,’ she muttered, taking a Greater Manchester A-Z from the drawer in her desk and flipping to the page on which a street map of Crowley, and the St Clement’s ward especially, were displayed. ‘Where on earth do I find you today?’