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why?’
    â€˜Evidence of your wounds. Don’t smile, just look at me, that’s a good girl.’
    He took three almost identical pictures of her face.
    â€˜Macy, I’ll call your school office and explain how you’ve helped us.’ As her mother walked ahead of her into a fresh shower of rain, Macy stopped at the door.
    â€˜There’s something else. Something I can’t get at.’ She touched her skull. ‘Why can’t I quite think?’
    â€˜Sometimes,’ said Rosen, ‘the mind protects us from too much nastiness by going blank.’
    â€˜Oh,’ she replied.
    â€˜Where do you live, Macy?’
    â€˜6F, Claude House.’ She pointed. ‘Over there.’
    â€˜Macy!’ Her mother’s voice cut in from outside the Portakabin.
    â€˜Can I ask you a question, Mr Rosen?’
    â€˜Go on.’ He smiled.
    Macy pointed at his feet. ‘Why are you wearing one green sock and one red one?’
    â€˜The bedroom was dark. . . I hurried getting dressed. . .’
    â€˜Macy!’ Her mother’s voice again, this time sharper. And Macy was gone.
    â€˜Poor woman,’ said Rosen. ‘Did you see the coat, Carol?’
    Bellwood nodded. ‘Expensive shoes, though. Maybe she got lucky in a charity shop.’
    â€˜Carol, get onto CCTV. We need the footage from eight forty-five to ten o’clock, Lewisham High Street. There’s a camera near the junction with Lydia Road. Seal off Lydia Road from Bannerman Square to the high street – we need Scientific Support there, quickly.’
    Rosen’s phone rang out. Mind spinning, he picked up the call: ‘DCI David Rosen.’
    â€˜I need to talk to you, David.’ It was Chief Superintendent Baxter.
    Rosen, who was about to go back to Isaac Street to catch up on the CCTV, said, ‘I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.’
    Baxter hung up.
    Rosen took a deep breath and, heading towards his car in the thickening rain, saw Macy walk in one direction towards Bream Street Primary and her mother head back alone to Claude House.

18
    1.35 P.M.
    A s Rosen entered the incident room, Gold and Feldman paused the CCTV footage. Feldman looked like he was soaking in a river of disappointment.
    Gold, chewing gum and frustrated, was the first to catch Rosen’s eye as he entered. ‘You’re never going to believe this, boss,’ he said.
    Rosen noticed that Gold was wearing the same shirt he’d had on the previous night when he was handling Stevie Jensen on Bannerman Square. He wondered if Gold had slept in the shirt and felt anxious for him.
    â€˜You know what, Goldie,’ replied Rosen, approaching. ‘Bet you I will.’
    â€˜CCTV on Bannerman Square,’ said Gold. ‘Word up from forensics. Someone’s taken two gunshots at the camera. First one’s buckled the cage, the second’s screwed the side of the camera.’
    â€˜We’ve watched hours in the lead up to it,’ said Feldman. ‘Not one single frame of anyone casing the camera or doing damage to it.’ He pointed to the screen. ‘These are the moments leading up to the point where it was gunned. They’re typical of the whole day.’
    Gold pressed ‘play’.
    â€˜So, what we’ve got is a really good view of Bannerman Square, round about three fifteen, specifically this. . .’
    On screen, a young mother pushed a toddler in a buggy. The image shuddered and the mother carried on pushing her baby. As she disappeared off screen, the screen went blank.
    â€˜Got you,’ said Rosen.
    â€˜Is she deaf?’ asked Feldman.
    â€˜Freeze-frame the young mum,’ said Rosen. ‘Between the first and second bullet.’
    Feldman froze an image of the woman. The quality of the picture was poor but there was no doubt that the woman didn’t instinctively jump or turn her head to the sudden noise of a gunshot from just across the square. In the image,