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wore his usual bemused expression. Two plates of grease and chips lay abandoned on the largest of a nest of tables next to a half empty bottle of white wine.
                  ‘Evening, Dawn,’ Kate said.
                  Dawn Reed sat up hastily, pulled her dressing gown around her and put her slippers on. Nathan followed Kate in. Dawn distractedly ran a hand through her bottle blonde hair and smiled tiredly.
    ‘DI Kelly,’ she said, remembering her manners and standing quickly. ‘Is there any news?’
                  Kate glanced at the TV, a cue for Dawn to turn the sound down. Dawn took the hint, reached for the remote and pressed the mute button, leaving the room bathed in the flickering light of silent moving pictures.
                  ‘Sorry to interrupt you so late in the evening,’ Kate said, though it was not yet half past eight and from what she’d seen so far she’d hardly walked in on anything important enough to be accused of interrupting. She had made her way straight to the Reed’s house after chasing an almost-Stacey look-a-like down the high street. How could she have just gone home after that and turned her own TV on as if there was nothing better, nothing more productive, she could have been doing?
                  ‘No news, I’m afraid,’ she continued. ‘Not yet anyway.’
                  She looked around the room slowly, feeling Nathan’s beady stare upon her back. The room was a mess. Chip papers lay on the floor by the sofa and an empty wine bottle lay abandoned beneath the TV. The carpet needed cleaning and a fortnight’s worth of ironing was piled in untidy stacks beneath the stairs.
    Kate glanced towards the open kitchen door. Dirty dishes were stacked haphazardly in the sink and yet more clothes had been abandoned on the floor next to the washing machine. Empty wine and beer bottles were lined on the window sill like trophies.
                  ‘I was just wondering if you’ve managed to find Stacey’s bag,’ Kate asked, turning and directing the question at Dawn. ‘You said you couldn’t remember if she’d had it with her that day or not.’ 
                  For the briefest of moments Dawn Reed looked blank. Suddenly her expression changed and she smiled weakly.
    ‘The bag,’ she repeated.
    She looked to Nathan for support. Nathan shrugged nonchalantly and came further into the room. He sat on the end of the sofa and rubbed the back of Dawn’s knee. ‘I didn’t know she had no bag wiv ’er,’ he said, eyeing Kate suspiciously. He looked to Dawn as though passing the buck. The look made Kate angry.
    ‘I can’t remember,’ Dawn said; her voice flustered. ‘Maybe she had it with her , I don’t know. I’m sorry. She loved that bag.’
                  The green frog bag: the frog with the zip for a mouth they were selling in their dozens from the pound shop on the high street. The same sort of bag the little girl at the pedestrian crossing had been carrying just an hour ago.
                  ‘OK,’ Kate said, meeting Nathan’s glare and holding it a moment longer than was comfortable for either of them. ‘Thanks anyway. If it does happen to turn up, please let us know.’
                  ‘Why?’ Nathan asked; his piggy eyes narrowing as he studied her. ‘Why’s the bag so important?’
                  ‘It may not be,’ Kate admitted, although she was beginning to suspect otherwise. ‘Just let us know.’
    *
    On the pavement outside the Reed house Kate stood looking back at the house. The curtains twitched and Kate knew she was being watched.
                  She crossed the pavement and walked back to her car, which was parked at the far end of the street. She took her keys from her pocket and, unlocking the door, took a last glance back at the house. She wondered if the house was always in that state,