‘I thought you didn’t want to know that bit.’

Even more annoyed than she had been when she set off, Jessica ignored him and continued driving. Deep down she was pleased he was doing all right. The problem was deeper than that, she was a little jealous he seemed to be settling down. With everything that was going on in the case – as well as having Caroline staying at her flat – Jessica could feel an invisible burden upon her.

The haulage firm was based in an industrial area similar to the one Jessica had visited with Reynolds the day before. Tall metal gates surrounded the structure, with the company’s name printed across a large blue sign at the front. Jessica parked the car and they steadily made their way across the icy pavement into the large courtyard. The tarmac was covered with a layer of frost, only broken by long patches of clear ground where lorries would have been waiting overnight. Slowly, Jessica and Rowlands walked across to a small structure not far from the main gate. It was barely bigger than a caravan but Jessica could see the grey brick building had wire mesh across each of its windows.

She knocked on the door and heard a gruff ‘come in’ from inside. As they entered, there was a man with his feet on a desk leaning back in a comfy-looking office chair. He peered around a newspaper with a curious look on his face, clearly not used to dealing with people who wore suits. Jessica would have guessed he was somewhere in his fifties. He had closely cropped grey hair with the same shade of stubble on his chin. Putting his feet on the floor, he dropped the paper on the desk but didn’t stand. Behind him on the wall was a large map of the UK, along with four foil Santa faces. Loose strands of tinsel lined the front of the desk. In the corner was a small fake Christmas tree on a table with a string of fairy lights wrapped around it, blinking. As far as decorations went, Jessica thought it was about as half-hearted an effort as she would make.

‘Who are you?’ he asked in a broad local accent. Both detectives took out their identification and the man rolled his eyes. He spoke before either of them could say anything. ‘Christ alive, haven’t you got proper crimes to be solving? There are old ladies out there being attacked and you keep coming around here.’

Jessica had no idea what he was talking about but didn’t want to let him know that. ‘Why do you think we’re here?’

He tutted, rolling his eyes again and pointing outside as if to emphasise his point. ‘Look, I’ve checked all the tyres and they’re fine. The log books are in order, the paperwork is all filed away. If you want to be pricks, then go ahead but you won’t find anything.’

It was Jessica’s turn to roll her eyes. ‘Blimey, you’re a smooth talker. I bet you’re a massive hit with the ladies,’ she said sarcastically.

The man leant forward in his chair. ‘This is harassment. I know my rights.’

‘Do you really?’

‘Yeah, I know you can’t keep coming around here.’

‘I didn’t know you were so up to date with all the various laws and legal rulings. Are you a part-time lawyer on the side? You know, lorry firm by day, legal advice by night?’

He was clearly confused, undermining his claim to knowing the law. ‘What?’

Jessica couldn’t be bothered winding him up any further so sat in the seat across the table from him. There was a plastic-looking plaque on the desk with the man’s name and ‘President’ engraved underneath it. If it were made of an expensive metal, it would have been the type of thing found in a boardroom. Jessica pulled a face as she read the words. ‘Right then, Mr President, believe it or not we’re not here to check your vehicles’ tyres, go over your paperwork or look at any of the log books. We simply want to ask about one of your employees.’

He clearly didn’t believe her but acted as if he would play along. ‘Who?’

‘Simon Hill.’

‘Si?’

‘If that’s what you call him.’

The man looked as if he was trying to figure out what the officers were really up to. ‘What about him?’

‘How long has he worked here?’

Jessica kept a steady gaze as he shook his head. ‘I don’t know, ages. Ten years? Probably longer.’

‘What does he do?’

‘He’s just one of the drivers.’

Jessica nodded and could hear the gentle scratches of Rowlands making notes behind her. It wasn’t that they wouldn’t remember anything but it helped add to the pressure and Jessica was glad he had almost read her mind by taking his pad out.

‘Where do you send him that means he needs to be away for weeks at a time?’ she asked.

The man shunted his chair back a little, scrunching up his face. ‘What are you on about?’

‘It’s a simple question – where does he drive for you?’

‘What do you mean? I told you all the log books are in order.’ He clearly thought the detectives were trying to pull some sort of trick.

Jessica sighed and leant forward. ‘Just answer the question. Where does he drive for you?’

‘I don’t know, a few places, mainly up north. He goes to Scotland for some bits and usually goes via the northeast on the way up. Newcastle or Middlesbrough, places like that.’

‘So he doesn’t go on long journeys abroad or anywhere?’

‘No, he’s only part-time. I’ve only got one or two guys who go to Europe. Why, what’s the problem?’

There was a short pause, where even Rowlands’s pen had stopped writing. Jessica felt she had to check the information. ‘So Simon Hill works for you but only part-time and he never does jobs that take longer than a day or two?’

‘So what? I’ve got the paperwork to prove it.’ He was being overly aggressive and Jessica took photocopies of the documents just to confirm it.

The owner may have had issues with the police over various things but everything he handed over seemed to be in order. The two detectives left the office and walked slowly back to Jessica’s car.

Rowlands spoke first when they were far enough away from the office so there was no danger of being overheard. ‘What was that?’

‘I don’t know but something’s not right.’

‘You think he was lying?’

‘No, and I don’t think Simon’s wife was either. For whatever reason she thinks her husband spends weeks at a time on driving jobs.’

Rowlands said what they were both thinking. ‘But if he’s not working then where is he?’ Jessica didn’t reply but, given Hill’s possible connection to Toby Whittaker fourteen years ago, finding out was their new priority. That was until her phone begun to ring, with DI Reynolds’s name flashing up.

Jessica answered, wanting to tell him what they had found but not getting a chance before he started speaking. ‘Jess, you remember that list of children you found at that allotment?’

She felt a shiver go down her spine unrelated to the weather. It was something she would never forget. ‘Of course.’

‘One of the other kids has gone missing.’

12

Lloyd Corless looked at the duvet cover but couldn’t bring himself to smile.

‘Come on Lloyd, it’s football, I know you like football.’

Lloyd did enjoy football and he liked the players on the duvet cover – but he didn’t understand why he couldn’t go home. He had been told that his mum was hurt, and got in the car. He had expected to be taken to the hospital but instead they had come here. Lloyd asked why they couldn’t go to the hospital but he was told that visiting hours were over. It didn’t sound very convincing.

After the person had left, the boy lay on the bed, peering around the rest of the room. There were so many things that in normal circumstances he would have enjoyed. On the wall were posters of more footballers and of a few cartoons and films Lloyd liked. There was a PlayStation connected to a television in the corner and a satellite box underneath so he could watch whatever channel he wanted. There was even a brand-new computer game among the stack in the drawers. He had wanted to play for ages but his mum kept saying he was too young. Lloyd had thought things would be more fun without his mum around to nag at him, but was now feeling pretty worried about her.