As a community officer she had an amount of freedom. She collected her in-tray of reports and signed out an unmarked car. She wanted to get away from the claustrophobic atmosphere of the station. She drove to Coldharbour Lane and sorted through her paperwork. She had a dozen or so people to see about stolen bikes, trouble with neighbors, kids smoking w**d in the stairwells, and on and on. A couple of times she passed by Meadowchef Foods and couldn’t resist parking up in the wet darkness of the evening, just to see whatever there might be to see. It was 6:30 p.m. when a scruffy Ford Transit minibus drove in through the gates. Her impression was that it was full of workers. Her guess was that this was the night shift and that the day shift would soon be coming out. She started the motor and
