The young woman who gazed out at her did indeed have a ring through her nose, and another through her eyebrow, but her small, pale face was devoid of makeup, and the multihued strands of her hair looked flattened and neglected.

"Miss Adams? I'd like to talk to you about Alex Dunn."

"What about him?" The sight of Gemma's warrant card had not prompted the woman to open the door wider.

"Do you happen to know where he is?"

"Why should I?"

The door of the flat opposite creaked open an inch.

"Do you think I might come in?" Gemma gave a pointed glance at the obvious eavesdropper.

"Yeah, I suppose. Old cow," Fern added under her breath, but she stepped back, allowing Gemma into the flat. Boxes and tag-ends of furniture cluttered the space. Gemma could see no rhyme or reason for the arrangement of items- a set of mahogany side chairs faced a wall, a matching settee had its back cozily against the television, side tables stood adrift among lamps and pictures. A glimpse out the glass balcony doors revealed an equally unprepossessing view; large men's underclothing hung out on a makeshift clothesline, and there were a few drooping potted plants.

Gemma gestured at the boxes. "Are you moving?"

"No. My dad travels- the auction circuit. He brings things home, and so do I. This is about as sorted as we get." Fern cleared a chair of several old tasseled lampshades, which Gemma took as an invitation to sit.

"Have you been traveling this week?"

"Yeah." Fern rubbed at a spot on the back of her hand, a liar's gesture. When Gemma didn't speak, she added, "Estate sales, country markets, you know the sort of thing."

"What about Alex? Is he traveling as well?"

Fern shrugged with great casualness. "Dunno. Haven't seen him."

"But you have seen him since Dawn Arrowood died. The two of you left the arcade together."

The girl's startled glance met Gemma's, then she looked deliberately away. "I took him home for a cuppa. He was a bit wobbly and all. Why do you want to know about Alex, anyway?"

"I understand he and Dawn were quite close. She might have told him something that would help us find her killer."

"You mean, like, if someone had been bothering her?"

"Exactly. Or maybe he noticed someone hanging round her. Or, say if her husband had threatened her, she might have told Alex." When Fern nodded without comment, Gemma added, "Would Alex have told you?"

"Not likely. Dawn Arrowood wasn't exactly a topic of discussion between us."

"Not even on Saturday morning? You must have talked about her murder."

"He wouldn't believe it at first, when Otto told him. But then he went to her house. It was crawling with coppers and one of the neighbors told him her throat had been cut. After that he was, like, a zombie or something."

"And after you brought him back here for a cup of tea?"

Fern shrugged again. "I suppose he went home."

"You let your good friend go home alone in a terrible state of shock?"

"I offered to stay with him, but he didn't want me."

Gemma studied her for a moment. "All right, Fern, that's enough of the games. Alex's landlord saw the two of you leave in Alex's car that morning, with you driving. Where did you go?"

"Don't know what you're on about," Fern retorted, but Gemma had glimpsed the flash of fear in her eyes.

"Yes, you do. Do you also know that you could face charges for interfering with a police investigation?"

"I don't know where he is!"

"I don't believe that. You left together in Alex's car on Saturday morning, and neither Alex nor his car has been seen since. We've put out a bulletin on his car registration; we will find it, but the sooner we talk to Alex the better for him."

"But he hasn't done anything-"

"Why would he disappear like this, unless he had something to do with Dawn's death?"

"Because he's in danger!" Fern scowled at Gemma, but her lip was trembling.

"Alex? Why should Alex be in danger?"

"Otto knows Karl Arrowood, and he says that if Karl killed his wife, Alex could be next."

"If Alex has some evidence that Dawn was murdered by her husband, he needs to give it to the police as soon as possible. Tell me where he is."

"No. I can't tell you because I don't know. I took him for a drive, then I took him back to the flat." Fern's hands were balled into fists now, and in spite of her frustration with the girl, Gemma found something about her defiance endearing.

With a sigh, she said, "I hope Alex appreciates your loyalty."

Something flickered in Fern's face- an instant of doubt? Hesitation? Then it was gone and her lips were clamped in a stubborn line. "I'm telling you, I don't know where he is."

"All right, Fern." Gemma stood, tucked her notebook in her bag, and handed Fern her card. "But I'll be back. And in the meantime, you think about whether you really want Alex to go to jail for evading the police and impeding a murder inquiry."

As soon as she reached the station, Gemma organized a twenty-four-hour watch on Fern Adams's flat and requested access to Fern's phone records. She had absolutely no doubt that Fern knew where Alex Dunn was, and that the young woman would contact him.

When her own phone rang with a summons to Superintendent Lamb's office, she thought nothing of it; her super regularly called her in to discuss cases in progress.

But to her astonishment, Lamb cleared his throat and said, "Gemma, Sergeant Franks has been to see me. I thought you should know that the sergeant has expressed some concern over your progress on this case. He feels that not enough pressure has been put on Karl Arrowood, as the obvious suspect in the murder of his wife-"

"Sir. You know that we don't have one single bit of concrete evidence. I can't confront Karl Arrowood with nothing but dicey forensics and supposition, and I certainly can't make a case to the CPS-"

"I realize that, Gemma. I'm not questioning your judgment. In fact, it seems that as well as being wealthy, Arrowood has quite a reputation for supporting charitable causes like helping the homeless. The Commissioner has had calls from a friend of Mr. Arrowood's in the Home Office, and from two prominent MP's, expressing concern for Arrowood, and he has in turn been breathing down my neck. We're certainly not going to make any rash charges at this point, although our clearance rate is under scrutiny-" He stopped and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "But you know all that, and that's not why I called you in here. My immediate concern is your communication with Sergeant Franks-"

"But sir, you must know that Franks resents all the female officers. He's done his best to undermine my authority since I started here."

"I also know that Gerry Franks is an experienced and able officer, and you're not doing yourself any favors by allowing personal- or gender-related- differences to sabotage your working relationship. He could be a valuable resource to you, and I don't have to tell you that we need this department to run as efficiently as possible. See what you can do to remedy the problem, eh?" It was clearly a dismissal.

"Right." Gemma stood. "Thank you, sir. If that's all-"

When Lamb nodded, she left the office, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. She had gone out of her way to defer to Gerry Franks, trying to allow him to retain some of his dignity, and this was the thanks she got. Of course she'd been aware of his thinly concealed insubordination, but this was absolutely the last straw. She would have to find a way to deal with him. And then her own doubts flooded over her.

Had she done everything possible? Had she let her concern with her pregnancy and her future cloud her judgment? And if that were the case, how could she repair the damage?