Sam left without a word–she had no answer, and she didn’t want to say what she really thought. The harsh truth was that it was probably too late for Matthew Cook to be being looked after by anyone.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The following day, Sam looked out over Edmonton. The place sat at the north point of Tottenham, a sprawl of towering council estates, graffiti and crime. The most deprived area in Enfield, she knew it had some of the highest crime rates in London and some of the capital’s most dangerous characters walking its streets, as Sam had experienced in her training so far. But today Edmonton Green was quiet, the gangs of hooded youths apparently silenced by the abduction of Matthew Cook. Like her, they had no doubt he was dead: a child murdered by two other children.

There had been plenty of activity after last night’s news bulletin. Lots of crank calls. Lots of perverts wanting to know if they’d found a body yet. There were more calls from people who said they had seen Matthew with two kids–some of them would probably prove to be genuine, but they’d taken too long to come through. People were so concerned about keeping themselves to themselves that it had all gone too far–and now a child had probably lost his life because of it.

The hastily assembled ‘Matthew Cook task force’ was situated in an old storage room in the basement. There were no windows, and Sam felt claustrophobic from the moment she walked in. The fluorescent strip light flickered, inducing headaches, and the smell of stale, deodorized sweat was competing with the scent of industrial disinfectant. A high wooden table on rickety legs leaned against the wall under the light switch. The makeshift coffee table was marked by rings, scattered sugar and almost clean cups. The coffee tasted like hot black tar, but the task force was very grateful–anything to keep them awake. Six bashed metal grey desks were grouped in the centre of the room; two walls were covered with a map of the area, names and addresses of the thirty-eight witnesses they had already spoken to who had seen the toddler with the suspects, and photographs of the missing child. Sam needed to get out of here. Something was telling her there was nothing left in this estate, there would be no more clues here, and Donna Cook was undoubtedly innocent. Sam wanted to be back at headquarters. She felt more in the thick of things there, whereas stuck on the estate she would end up dealing with nosy neighbours who had nothing better to do than wallow in someone else’s misery, and who hoped to be interviewed by journalists, getting their moment in the spotlight. She left the room and walked back to the pool car she had parked only an hour earlier.