“Did anyone notice anything unusual about his state of mind?” Gristhorpe asked.

“No. Everyone said he just seemed normal. Which, I guess, was pretty weird to start with. I mean, he wasn’t exactly a barrel of laughs.”

“And next?”

“The used-book shop on the market square.” Annie walked over to the window and pointed. “That one down there. Norman’s.”

“I know it,” said Gristhorpe. “What did he buy?”

“Crime and Punishment and Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.” Right up Gristhorpe’s alley, Annie thought.

Gristhorpe whistled. “Pretty heavy going for a fifteen-year-old. What next?”

“That was it. He walked out of the market square CCTV range at half past five, and we haven’t found anyone who admits to seeing him since. Oh, and he was also seen talking to a group of lads in the square after coming out of the bookshop. It looked as if they were ragging him. One of them took the parcel of books from his hand and they tossed it around to one another while he flailed around trying to get it back.”

“What happened in the end?”

“One of them threw it to him and they went off laughing.”

“Classmates?”

“Yes. We’ve had a chat with them. At least DC Templeton has.”

“Nothing there, sir,” said Templeton. “They’ve all got alibis.”

“Which direction did he walk off in?” Gristhorpe asked.

“Down Market Street. South.”

Gristhorpe scratched his chin and frowned. “What do you make of it all, Annie?” he asked.

“I don’t know, sir. He’s been gone three nights now and nobody’s seen hide nor hair.”

“What about the Armitages?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure they’re telling you the truth?”

“They’ve no reason to lie now,” Annie said. “And the kidnapper knows we’re treating Luke as a misper. Remember, it was him who suggested that the Armitages get Luke to back up their story.”

“Too late for that, now, isn’t it?” said DC Kevin Templeton. “I mean, wasn’t he supposed to come home yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“So what happened?” Gristhorpe asked.

“He’s probably dead, sir,” cut in DC Winsome Jackman.

“But why hasn’t the kidnapper gone for the money?”

“Because he knows we’re watching,” Annie answered. “It’s the only explanation. He must have seen me when I went up to the shelter to check the briefcase.”

Nobody said anything; there was nothing they could say. Annie knew they agreed with her and could all sense what she was feeling herself, that gut-wrenching fear that she might be responsible for the boy’s death, that if she had stuck to rules and procedure, then things might have gone according to plan. To give him his due, though, whatever he thought, Gristhorpe didn’t say anything.

“Unless…” Annie went on.

“Aye, lass?”

“Well, a couple of things have puzzled me about all this right from the start.”

“I agree that as kidnappings go, it’s hardly conventional,” said Gristhorpe, “but go on.”

Annie took a sip of water. “In the first place,” she said, “why did the kidnapper wait so long before getting in touch with the Armitages and making his demand? Luke disappeared sometime late Monday afternoon or evening, according to what we’ve managed to find out so far, yet the demand didn’t come until after dark on Tuesday.”