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looked at the line of net curtains, at the long, unkempt grass, at the discarded plastic toys on the lawns. There was a dismantled car in one garden, engine parts leaking oil onto the path.
    As they got nearer the top of the road, Pete curled his mouth into a snarl.
    ‘The bastard,’ he said, his teeth gritted. He banged the steering wheel. ‘He’s given us the wrong address.’
    Laura peered through the windscreen as she felt her stomach turn over. She thought of the dishevelled old man from the murder scene, upset and scared. Could she have got it so wrong?
    As the car came to a stop, she saw that the house was boarded up, covered with graffiti. There was a large splash of white on one corner of the board over the main window where someone had thrown a tin of paint.
    ‘But I called it in and he checked out,’ she said, her voice suddenly heavy with fatigue. It was still too early for the day to seem so long.
    Pete was quiet for a while, but then he started to climb out of the car. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I could have stopped him too, but I didn’t. We’ll take the shit two-handed.’ He nodded towards the house. ‘We might as well take a look now we’re here.’
    They walked up the short path together. It was cracked and chipped along the edges. There was also a splash ofpaint on the floor, obviously where the tin had landed. Pete went to the front door and kicked it.
    ‘Pretty solid,’ he said.
    Laura grabbed his arm. Eric wasn’t enough of a suspect yet to arrest him, Egan had decided that, so she knew it was too early to go in uninvited. ‘Don’t. Let’s just take a look around.’
    ‘But he’s not living here.’
    ‘Someone does.’
    When Pete looked at her quizzically, she pointed downwards. ‘Look at the lawn.’
    He looked at the small patch of green in front of the house, puzzled. It was a neat square with a line of soil around it.
    ‘It’s been cut,’ Laura said, ‘and there are no weeds in that border. If he doesn’t live here, he must have good neighbours, because someone is looking after it.’
    Pete smiled. ‘If you keep on bringing these clever city ways with you, you’ll be my boss soon.’
    ‘Let’s try round the back, see what we can see.’
    Pete followed her as she went, and Laura sensed curtains twitch in the houses across the road. No one came out to speak to them. No coffees around here.
    The back garden was similar to the front. Just a small lawn surrounded by empty flowerbeds, maybe only fifteen yards long. The windows at the back were boarded up as well, but they were free of graffiti. Laura looked round when she heard a noise, and she saw Pete had his head in the wheelie bin at the side of the house.
    ‘Anything unusual?’
    He let the lid bang shut. ‘It’s empty.’ He rubbed hishands together as if to get dirt off them. ‘Let’s go. He’s not here.’
    Laura looked around. She wasn’t so sure.
    ‘C’mon,’ Pete said. ‘I’m going to find him. I want to know why he gave you a fake address. That must put him higher up the list.’
    Laura was about to say something, when Pete turned to go. She decided that she was too new to object. Instead, she agreed with him. ‘I think he was already at the top.’
    The boy looked peaceful. His eyes were closed, his breaths soft and light, blond hair splayed out on the soft cotton pillow. The light came from an old paraffin lamp, the flame making the shadows pull in and out and his skin glow and shimmer.
    He stood over him, listened to his breathing. It sounded regular. He went to stroke the boy’s cheek, but he stopped himself. The boy wouldn’t be with him for much longer. He didn’t want to leave traces. But as he looked down and saw the warm velvet of his skin, innocent and pure, he knew he couldn’t stop himself. He held his hand over the boy’s mouth, felt his warm breath, and then he lowered his hand, felt the boy’s lips on his palm, felt the breaths get hotter.
    He closed his eyes for a moment,