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and responsibilities. At her best, at her most together and controlled, she felt like she was doing nothing more than walking back to Rachel’s house in search of other adults to look after her.
    At those services following the Ramsay case, she was made to feel that she had – without trying to, without even realising it – been the one doing the looking after; that she had given all of these people something that made them feel less scared and confused. She held outstretched hands and looked into earnest, solemn faces, and in their moist eyes glimpsed this young woman they were all looking at, someone very different to the lost and scared little girl she imagined herself to be. Perhaps for the first time in her life it gave her a genuine sense of what it felt like to be an autonomous, functioning grown-up.
    She could still feel like a lost child inside, but maybe everyone else did too, and it was in the reflection of her deeds that she got to see the person the rest of the world saw when they looked at her. So maybe, just maybe, against all instinct and expectation, this was something she could do, and do well; something that might make her feel she had a purpose, and therefore less abandoned, lost and afraid.
    What ultimately tipped the scales was the answering machine at the office, when she went back there after taking a couple of weeks to get her head straight. The phone rang when she was barely in the door so she let the machine take the call, at this point remaining unsure whether it was – or was at least going to be – her business. It was still Jim’s voice on the outgoing message, which was all the more unsettling for the time that had passed since his death. He sounded affable without being inappropriately breezy, encouraging without promising the Earth. But none of the messages – and there were plenty – were for him. Without exception, it was her name they asked for, because to each of the callers the Sharp in Sharp Investigations meant Jasmine.
    She was aware that the story had been all over the media, but although she gave a few quotes to reporters she had been too caught up in the aftermath to pay the coverage any heed. She didn’t want to read about it because she didn’t want to think about it. She just wanted to be past it. In her mind it had been a frightening and frequently traumatic few weeks, just something awful that had happened to her, and something far worse that had happened to Jim. She forgot that, to the outside world looking in, the story was about a multiple murder case that had remained a mystery for twenty-seven years until she became involved; and that as a result this little business that was hers to take or leave had recently enjoyed the publicity equivalent of a multi-million-pound national ad-spend.
    Jasmine discerned immediately that many of the callers were under the misapprehension that Sharp Investigations was something a great deal grander than a one-woman show, with enquiries covering a spectrum from missing moggies to private bodyguard hire. This was why the most significant call was not from someone who had never heard of Sharp Investigations until a fortnight before, but from someone who had been doing business with Jim for years: Harry Deacon at Galt Linklater.
    Harry had worked with Jim on the force, and when Jim first retired Harry had tried to recruit him for the big investigation firm. Jim preferred to go it alone, having felt compromised too often by the tangled and conflicting loyalties that complicated his police work.
    Their relationship did prove mutually beneficial, however, as from Sharp Investigations’ inception a great deal of Jim’s work comprised sub-contracts from Galt Linklater, often supplementing their manpower on major jobs or taking stand-alone cases the larger outfit couldn’t cover.
    Harry had introduced himself briefly at Jim’s funeral but had made no overtures towards talking shop. His message simply asked Jasmine to call back regarding