Dorothy shook her head. ‘Officer Daniels, is he still here?’

‘She,’ Thomas said. ‘Lorna Daniels went on maternity five years ago, never came back.’

Jenny looked out of the window, someone was flying a kite on the grass below the cliffs. ‘Do you have contact information for her?’

Thomas put the paper down. ‘I can get it but I’m not sure she’ll be any use. We deal with hundreds of cases, this was a long time ago. She would’ve only spent a few hours on it, given our workloads.’

‘Nevertheless,’ Jenny said.

Dorothy sighed. ‘I need to speak to Archie again.’

‘You think he’s involved?’

Dorothy tucked her hair behind her ear. Thomas watched her, and Jenny watched Thomas. They were friends for sure, but maybe more. Jenny tried to picture her mum sneaking around behind Dad’s back with this guy. Given her history, it wasn’t impossible.

‘I don’t know what to think,’ Dorothy said.

Thomas closed the folder and slid it across. Dorothy placed her fingers on it and closed her eyes as if trying to divine deeper meaning from it, some inner truth.79

‘I’m sorry there’s not more here,’ Thomas said. ‘But if there’s anything else I can do, please ask.’

Dorothy opened her eyes. It took a moment for her to focus on the room.

Jenny cleared her throat. ‘Actually, there’s another missing person you could look into for us.’

Thomas frowned and looked from Jenny to Dorothy, who nodded.

80

16

DOROTHY

Hermitage Drive was a line of large, sturdy Victorian houses on the shoulder of Blackford Hill, with views south over to the Braids. Number eleven appeared a little dishevelled compared to some of its neighbours, but it was still an impressive beast.

Dorothy rang the bell and waited. Eventually she saw motion through the frosted glass, then the door opened. Jacob Glassman was short and hunched over, maybe around ninety, walking with a frame. His hair needed cutting and he’d recently had a bad shave, leaving blood spots and missed bits at his nose and under his chin. But his eyes were clear as he waved her inside, checking the street behind her.

‘Mrs Skelf,’ he said.

‘Dorothy.’

He extended a hand. ‘And I’m Jacob, thank you for coming.’

He shuffled towards a room at the back of the house and she followed. It was a large, open-plan dining room and kitchen, bookshelves lined with old, leather-bound volumes along one wall, bright abstract paintings above. There was a remarkable view out the window down to the Braid Burn in the valley below the house.

Jacob settled in a seat at the dining table, pushing his frame to the side. ‘Did you bring the cameras?’

He waved for her to sit down, so she pulled out a chair opposite.

‘What?’

‘The spy cameras, Mr Skelf was supposed to install them yesterday.’81

There was a rattle in his voice, a heaviness to each breath.