‘It’s a professional obligation,’ he said, some uncertainty creeping into his voice.

‘What about risking that to save some lives? Or is your professional obligation more important than saving a life?’ Laura persisted.

The man considered that for a few seconds longer, and then stepped to one side. Anne walked towards a panelled wooden door halfway along the corridor, thick with decades of paint. Laura could see her hands trembling.

‘The archives are down here,’ Anne said, and she dug into her purse for the key. She pushed at the door and stepped inside to turn on the light. ‘Everything is down there.’

‘Come with us,’ Laura said. When Anne flashed an uncertain look at her boss, Laura added, ‘you will be able to tell us if anything has been moved.’

When Anne got the nod that she should cooperate, they all descended into the damp and cold of the cellar.

It was lined by wooden racks and piled high with boxes. The dust made Laura’s nose itch, and then she exhaled loudly. Where should they start?

Joe stepped past her and began to read the dates on the boxes. ‘You only treat children here?’ he asked Anne, and when she nodded, he said, ‘We’ll need to go back a few years, as the newest boxes will make the patients too young.’ He began to walk along, examining the outside of the boxes, not the contents. Then he stopped and reached for a box from the top shelf, just at his eye-level. He grunted with effort as he put it onto the floor. ‘Nineteen eighty-five,’ he said. ‘The dust has been disturbed on the lid, and that would make him about the right age.’

Joe removed the lid and put it on the floor before he groaned. The box was filled with files, all lined up neatly.

‘There are some more boxes here with marks in the dust,’ Laura said, and grabbed the next one along.

‘Get down all the boxes where the dust has been disturbed,’ Joe said, and as he and Laura looked along the shelves, they saw there six boxes with marks on the lids. Laura watched as Joe popped the lid on each one in turn, they were all filled to bursting with files.

But the final box was different.

Joe looked into the box and then at Laura, before he got to his feet.

‘There’s your answer,’ he said.

Laura had to agree. In all the other boxes, the files were lined up, filed away. In this box, however, one file had been removed and placed on top of the others.

Joe picked up the file. ‘Shane Grix,’ he said, as he read the name on the cover. Then he opened it and began to flick through the contents. Laura watched as his eyes widened.

Anne looked at Laura, uncertainty in her eyes. Laura raised a finger to her lips to ask her not to say anything.

Anne looked at the floor, her hands clasped in front of her, as Joe read. He flicked through the pages, sometimes pausing to consider something in more detail. After a few minutes, he handed the file back to Anne, who looked nervously at the cover.

‘Thank you,’ Joe said. ‘You might have helped us catch a killer,’ and as he rushed for the stairs, Laura followed quickly behind.

Chapter Forty-Three

As the sound of Adam’s car disappeared into the hills, Jack grabbed his own car keys and headed outside. He needed to be at Bobby’s school, in case his father was late. As he climbed into his car, he wondered what to do with the information he had been given. He wanted to write about Jane, but what Adam had told him fitted in with the piece he had partly finished for Dolby on the Whitcroft estate. Dolby wanted it to sneer at those who always came up against the tougher side of life, but Adam’s version gave the story a villain: Don Roberts.

He went to turn on the engine, but then paused and reached for his phone. He dialled Dolby’s number, who answered on the second ring.

‘How late can I leave the Whitcroft story?’ Jack said.

There was a pause, and then Dolby said, ‘I thought it was almost done.’

‘It is, but I’ve got another angle,’ Jack said.

‘I don’t want another angle.’

‘This ties in with Jane Roberts, the dead woman.’

Jack could almost hear Dolby’s thoughts as he pondered on whether to allow Jack extra time. Eventually, Dolby said, ‘How so?’

‘The security on the estate is managed by Jane’s father,’ Jack said.

‘That’s a tenuous link.’

‘Not really. Jane had a good upbringing, much more affluent than those people on the estate, but it was partly paid for by them.’

‘And with a tragic postscript, because Jane was killed,’ Dolby said, and Jack could hear him thinking. ‘Write it up, see how it comes out.’

‘Will do.’

‘It needs to go in tomorrow though. Two pages.’

‘I know, I know, but this will add something to it.’

Dolby sighed at the other end, and Jack knew he had just earned himself a late night.

The car started on the first turn of the keys. It was a good omen. Bobby first, and then it was back to the Whitcroft estate.

Laura put her phone into her pocket. They were heading towards the last known address of Shane Grix.

‘He doesn’t appear on the system,’ she said. ‘If Shane Grix is dangerous, he’s avoided detection.’

‘For the last few years anyway,’ Joe said. ‘Remember there was a time when our computer records were not that good, and so if he’s been off the radar for more than fifteen years, he might not appear.’

‘And he might have changed his name,’ she said. ‘So if the name isn’t known to us, what did you see in the file that got you so interested?’

Joe glanced over. ‘Shane Grix,’ he said. ‘A quiet kid from a nice family. Adopted. It’s a bit of the old nature versus nurture thing, I suppose, but it seems that in this case quiet also meant withdrawn, and bullied.’

‘There’s a child in every school who is bullied,’ Laura said. ‘It doesn’t make it right, but it doesn’t make it exceptional either.’

Joe smiled. ‘Do you remember what I told you about why some children are cruel to animals, or set fires?’

‘Power,’ she said. ‘Or, at least, how they react to feeling powerless. They strike back at things weaker than themselves.’

‘Exactly, and that’s why young Shane went to see a child psychologist. He was mistreating small animals.’

Laura could see the gleam in Joe’s eyes, the academic side of him taking over, relishing the chance to chase a theory rather than a killer. She turned away and watched the seascape flash into view as they passed the ends of those streets that ran towards it, just glimpses of bright blue.

‘But what was it about Shane that made Doctor Barker go looking for his file?’ she asked eventually.

‘It was the way he was mistreating them,’ Joe said, as he turned onto a street of semi-detached houses, with large bay windows and glass porches. He looked out of his window as his car crept along, and then he stopped alongside a grass verge that separated the path from the road. ‘This is Shane’s address. Or at least it was all those years ago.’

Laura looked out of the car and saw dusty windows and net curtains. She could see the outline of china ornaments on the window sill, and there was a flower basket hanging from a hook by the front door, although the flowers looked tired and sagging.

They both climbed out of the car, and looked up at the house. There was no car in the driveway and Laura wondered whether anyone was home.

‘Shane was a boy when he lived here,’ Laura said. ‘He will be long gone.’

‘But we might get the local gossip,’ he said. ‘Look at these houses. These are not new-build starter homes. These are old-fashioned houses, where people bring up children and then stay in when they’ve retired. I didn’t see a single for sale sign as we drove here. Even if Shane has moved, someone around here will remember him.’