Sandra took them to meet Jock, who sat in a chair with his eyes closed, listening to the music. They’d seen his face before: next to Carla Rigg, real name Daphne, in the photograph found in her wallet. The case was becoming like a game of pick-up sticks, with Kate and Rob trying to keep tabs on which one could be pulled out of the pile next. They had yet to work out how to remove each stick without disturbing the others, but it was impossible. Every time they gathered a new nugget of information, it was as if the whole game changed and more sticks were thrown into the pile.

‘Jock,’ Sandra pushed his shoulder gently. His eyes flickered open and Kate introduced them. He took their hands firmly and waited for them to sit down. He was a large man with a relaxing charm about him, and a twinkle in his eye. He hadn’t changed much since the photo had been taken with Daphne. He sat upright, ready to help the detectives.

‘Can you tell us more about Edna Beverley and her son William?’

‘He was the sweetest boy. A bit soft, actually. That’s why I think he wandered off; he wasn’t streetwise like his mother. She tried her best, but he had no father figure around to make him a man.’

It was a stark assessment, but honest to the teller of the tale. Kate and Rob noticed that the guitar had fallen silent and, slowly, people were gathering around them, listening to Jock speak.

‘She looked for him for years. The police stopped after six months. They said he’d likely got into a car with a stranger and left the county; they passed it to other counties, who never came up with anything either. Did you know that one hundred and forty thousand children go missing in the UK every year?’

‘Yes,’ Kate said.

‘Of course you do, you’re a policewoman. It’s not your fault is it? You do your best, with stretched resources, and politicians who care more for their second home in Chelsea than a missing child. Children are twice as likely to disappear as adults. But you know that too, don’t you?’

Kate nodded. ‘Were you and Edna close, Jock?’

The man looked down. Kate reckoned she’d found the source of his interest in UK statistics regarding missing kids. Jock looked around the group. The adults were huddled around now, somehow aware of the suffering that their friend faced. Kate watched as they rallied and she felt envy. There was human connection here in this garden, and it was quite beautiful.

‘How well did she know Kirk Junker?’ she pressed on.

At the mention of his name, the adults tensed and stiffened, forming a barrier of sorts between Jock and the detectives.