‘I don’t wish to appear aggressive or disrespectful, but you must understand that I have to find him. It was my fault he left –’ Helen continued quickly.

‘You didn’t out him, Emilia Garanita did,’ Harwood replied coolly.

‘To get at me. I feel responsible, which is why I’m asking for your help here. Every day since he disappeared I’ve been expecting the worst. He has nothing to live for, no one to care for him, no reason to go on. I know it’ll cause a fuss, that it goes against well-established protocols, but you can make this happen. So help me. Please.’

Helen had never been so open or vulnerable in front of her superior before. Harwood looked at Helen, then rose and walked round her desk. She put a comforting arm around her and instantly Helen knew she had lost.

‘I hear your pain and I sympathize. But I cannot compromise ongoing operations out of sentiment. I’m sorry, Helen, my answer has to be no.’

Helen stalked away from Harwood’s office. She had the distinct impression that Harwood had enjoyed slamming the door in her face, despite the mock sympathy she ladled on as a sop to Helen’s feelings. It left Helen with so many unanswered questions. What had Robert got himself mixed up in? Was he assisting the police? They had taken the trouble to redact any details of his place of residence, job, acquaintances, which strongly suggested that they wanted to protect him. But why? Was he an asset? If so, how had he come to their attention – as a witness or an informant? Helen’s mind was running riot with a dozen competing scenarios, each as disquieting as the last.

Marching into the incident room, Helen ran straight into DC Sanderson – the latter had clearly been waiting for her boss to arrive. Her news sent Helen’s mood plummeting yet further.

‘The DNA from Nathan Price’s van isn’t Ruby Sprackling’s. And SOC can’t find any traces of his DNA in Ruby’s flat, so …’

In her characteristically gentle way, Sanderson was telling Helen that they had nothing. Was Price innocent or just a very canny operator? It made no difference now – they would have to let him walk.

40

He drove steadily, but one eye remained fixed on the rearview mirror. He hadn’t believed it when they’d told him he was free to go and he had been right to be wary. He wasn’t off the hook yet.

Nathan Price noticed he was being tailed as he drove up Shirley High Road – a dark Vauxhall saloon following at a discreet distance. Unsure at first whether he was being paranoid, he diverted up Winchester Road. It was out of his way but would serve his purpose. The road opened up in front of him and he stabbed the accelerator sharply. His speed leapt to 50 mph. He was comfortably breaking the speed limit now and was amused to see the Vauxhall increase its speed to keep pace.

Instinct now took over and he turned sharply into Dale Road, heading in the direction of the hospital. The road was full of parked cars as always, but Nathan spotted a single space ahead and manoeuvred the van deftly into it. With no other spaces nearby, the Vauxhall glided past, eventually stopping at the top of the road. Their view of Nathan’s vehicle was now blocked by the van in front. Nathan had no doubt that they would be out of the car in a flash and heading back down the street. But he had time enough, if he was quick.

Killing the engine, he leapt into the back of the van, taking care not to trip over the building detritus that littered the van floor. Easing the back door partially open, he slipped out and, crouching down behind the sides of the parked cars, scurried along the road.

Reaching the end of the road, he took cover behind a green Fiat and paused. This last bit was the most important – he could blow it now if he was rash. Counting to ten, he chanced a look round the back of the Fiat towards his van. Sure enough, a plain-clothes copper was peering through the van windscreen, searching for his mark.

‘Imbecile,’ Nathan muttered to himself, as the police officer ran back up the road towards his colleague.

Seeing him turn his back, Nathan took his chance, darting out of his hiding place and around the corner. Now he picked up his pace, sprinting down Winchester Road again, before cutting sharply left into St James’ Park. Pulling his hood up over his face, he slowed to a quick walk now, moving steadily but with purpose. Soon he was on Church Street and finally safe from pursuit.

As he walked home, Nathan felt no temptation to congratulate himself. He had had a lucky escape and from now on he would have to be very, very careful. One slip, one small mistake and the whole house would come crashing down.

41

The sun shone down on the water so brightly that Ruby had to raise her hands to shield her eyes from the glare. It was punishing, but it was a ravishingly beautiful sight nevertheless.

Steephill Cove was a perfect horseshoe bay and it looked resplendent today in the fierce spring sunshine. Ruby and her family had been coming to the Isle of Wight since she was small, and this was their favourite place on the island. Ruby knew every detail of it, right down to her favourite rock pools and climbing crags.

Mum, Dad, Cassie, Conor and their border collie, Max, were haring about on the beach, playing frisbee and splashing in the surf as a prelude to their picnic. They never did these by halves and though it was a pain to lug the hampers down the steep steps to the beach, it was always worth it. The kids would be allowed a swig of the sparkling wine – Dad always fired the cork up into the sea much to Mum’s consternation – to wash down the pies, crisps, sandwiches, home-made cakes and biscuits that Mum had assembled the night before. They always felt sick afterwards of course – but in a good way.

Stripping off to her bikini, Ruby ran into the surf, the foaming water jumping up at her as she hurdled the waves. Diving in, she swam hard – her arms cutting gracefully through the water – and before long she was far out to sea, her family now distant figures on the beach.

Holding her breath, Ruby plunged under the water. Down, down, down she went, kicking hard away from the churning surface and into the depths below. It was part of a game she’d invented to wind up her mother. She would swim out a long way, then disappear under the waves for as long as she could. Her mother, who wasn’t a confident swimmer and hated the sea, never failed to react, pacing the shoreline, calling to her. Her father, who was used to her tricks, never reacted, which irritated Ruby a touch, but at least she could always rely on Mum.

When she did finally surface, she would wave cheerfully to her as if she couldn’t hear her mother’s cries, before plunging under again. She would keep this up until she eventually took pity on her. Swimming back to shore, she could always be sure of a cuddle and an affectionate reprimand.

Her breath was running out now, her lungs bursting for fresh air, so she turned and kicked hard for the surface. She hadn’t achieved much in life, but she had always been a strong swimmer and Ruby felt elated now as she arrowed upwards, her sleek form cutting through the water.

Bursting through the surface, she took off her goggles and trod water, while drinking in great gulpfuls of air. Sure enough, she heard her mother’s plaintive cries. Smiling to herself, she prepared to dive again. Her mother’s cries were louder now and she resolved to ignore them, but suddenly she felt her mother’s arm on her shoulder, pulling her to shore. How had she got out here? It was miles from –