Annie looked at her glass. Half full. And she was driving. “No,” she said. “Not for me.”

“Don’t worry,” said Banks, catching her anxious glance as he went to the bar. “This’ll be my last for the evening.”

“So when are you going down there?” Annie asked when he came back.

“First thing tomorrow morning.”

“And you’re going to do what, exactly? Present yourself at the local nick and offer to help them solve their case?”

“Something like that. I haven’t thought it out yet. It’ll hardly be high priority with the locals. Anyway, surely they’ll be interested in someone who was around at the time? They interviewed me back then, you know. I remember it clearly.”

“Well, you said yourself they won’t exactly welcome you with open arms, not if you go as a copper trying to tell them how to do their jobs.”

“I’ll practice humility.”

Annie laughed. “You’d better be careful,” she said. “They might have you down as a suspect.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Anyway, it’s a pity you’re not sticking around. We might be able to use your help up here.”

“Oh? What’s on?”

“Missing kid.”

“Another?”

“This one disappeared a bit more recently than your friend Graham.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Does it matter?”

“You know it does, Annie. Far more girls are abducted, raped and killed than boys.”

“A boy.”

“How old?”

“Fifteen.”

That was almost Graham’s age when he disappeared, Banks thought. “Then the odds are good he’ll turn up none the worse for wear,” he said, though Graham hadn’t.

“That’s what I told the parents.”

Banks sipped his beer. There were some compensations to being back in Yorkshire, he thought, looking around the quiet, cozy pub, hearing the rain patter on the windows, tasting the Black Sheep and watching Annie shift in her chair as she tried to phrase her concerns.

“He’s an odd kid,” she said. “Bit of a loner. Writes poetry. Doesn’t like sports. His room is painted black.”

“What were the circumstances?”

Annie told him. “And there’s another thing.”

“What?”

“He’s Luke Armitage.”

“Robin’s boy? Neil Byrd’s son?”

“Martin Armitage’s stepson. Do you know him?”

“Martin Armitage? Hardly. Saw him play once or twice, though. I must say I thought he was overrated. But I’ve got a couple of CDs by Neil Byrd. They did a compilation three or four years ago, and they’ve just brought out a collection of outtakes and live performances. He really was very good, you know. Did you meet the supermodel?”

“Robin? Yes.”

“Quite the looker, as I remember.”

“Still is,” said Annie, scowling. “If you like that sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing?”

“Oh, you know…skinny, flawless, beautiful.”

Banks grinned. “So what’s the problem?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just me. He’ll probably turn up safe and sound.”

“But you’re worried?”

“Just a teeny bit.”

“Kidnapping?”

“It crossed my mind, but there’s been no ransom demand yet. We searched the house, of course, just in case, but there was no sign he’d been back home.”