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opened, but Catherine didn’t look up. Anna Varcoe came in, crossed to the counter and selected a couple of items. As she waited to pay, she glanced over at her sergeant. Catherine looked exhausted, and though she was as smart and groomed as ever, she seemed to have lost weight. Her face was drawn, her eyes almost shuttered, no clues as to how she felt or what she must be going through. Anna wondered whether Catherine had been away from the station long enough, but then what would be the point of her being at home brooding?
      Anna thought back to the time she’d spent with her just after Claire’s death, with Catherine struggling to say a word and Anna herself stunned, attempting to take in what it all meant. She had gone home from the hospital feeling almost as if she were dreaming, sleepwalking into her own flat and taking the longest, hottest bath she could stand. The events surrounding Claire’s death had affected them all, the whole town in a sense. Anna knew Catherine was experiencing terrible guilt because she hadn’t realised what had happened, what was going to happen. She’d said as much. Anna frowned to herself and resolved to speak to DI Knight when she had a chance. She picked up her tray again and went over to where Catherine sat.
      ‘Mind if I join you?’ Anna asked.
      ‘Of course not,’ Catherine replied, blinking away an image of Claire standing in just the same spot, smiling down at her.
      Anna settled into the chair opposite her sergeant, picked up her jam doughnut and sank her teeth into it as Catherine looked on in envy.
      ‘Wish I’d got a doughnut now. I’m not sure how long these sandwiches have been there, but the sell-by date’s written in Roman numerals.’
    Anna started to laugh, then was overtaken by a coughing fit as she struggled to swallow the mouthful of doughnut.
      ‘You see, they’re not good for you.’ Catherine grinned.
      ‘Just go and get one, Sarge, you know you want to,’ Anna replied when she was able to, wiping her eyes. Catherine shook her head in defeat and returned to the counter. Back at the table, she took a huge bite and closed her eyes with pleasure. Anna smiled, relieved. Catherine was still pale, the smile a little forced and brittle, but the overall the signs were good. Perhaps she wouldn’t need to voice her concerns to DI Knight after all.
     
     
      Back in the office, DC Lancaster was waiting.
      ‘Sarge, the Lauren Cook thing – I think you better come and have a look.’
    Catherine followed him over to his desk.
      ‘What’s wrong, Dave?’
    He sat down and she stood beside him, leaning forward as he pointed to the familiar website displayed on his monitor.
      ‘See? The only friend Lauren has on Facebook called Sarah hasn’t been on her hen weekend, not according to this. She spent Saturday and Sunday at home in Huddersfield decorating, not getting drunk in Amsterdam.’
    Catherine squinted at the screen.
      ‘And there’s no other Sarah at all?’
      ‘No, Sarge.’
      ‘And none of her other Facebook friends have been on a hen night? Maybe Mr Cook got the name wrong.’
      ‘There’s no mention of anything like that.’
      ‘Hmm. Did you find out if Lauren is back in the country?’
      ‘That’s the weirdest part – I can’t find any record of her travelling abroad at all, not since the summer before last.’
      ‘Oh, so she’s been fibbing? You’re sure?’
      ‘Positive, Sarge. She went to Gran Canaria about fifteen months ago, but that’s all.’
      ‘I’ll have a word with the DCI. It worries me that she hasn’t been in touch with her husband, but then I bet she has a new bloke.’
      ‘Maybe, but it that case you’d have thought she’d have thought up a better lie than that. Maybe Mr Cook isn’t telling us the truth.’
    Catherine puffed out her cheeks. ‘All right. I’ll go and speak to DCI Kendrick now. Looks like you and I might be having a ride into town after all,