There was no mystery surrounding the car owner’s identity, so no forensic investigation had been necessary, which meant the detritus had simply been gathered up and placed in a plastic bag, in case it was needed later on. As per procedure, the recovery team had catalogued everything inside the vehicle, including the rubbish. They produced a basic list of contents and where each item was found, from petrol receipts to empty headlight bulb packets, but no further details. Which meant that Hawkins’ plan – to use the locations where Mardell had spent money over the period covered by the various receipts to build up a record of his movements – required a personal visit to the pound.

Maguire waited in the car while she pulled on some nitrile gloves and went to retrieve the bag of rubbish from the Renault. Then they spent twenty minutes plotting the dates and locations of anywhere Mardell had spent money since the earliest receipt, dated almost six months ago, on a map Hawkins had brought along for the purpose. Afterwards, all they had was proof that their suspect shopped and bought petrol sporadically in the same two supermarkets between home and work.

Hardly the revelation she’d been hoping for.

Hawkins’ mobile rang as she was stuffing the receipts back into the bag. She answered, immediately recognizing the monotone of Joseph White’s assistant, Tom, responding to her request for him to ring. The call lasted no more than two minutes, with Hawkins asking the same questions she had put to his employer an hour ago.

Getting exactly the same response.

No, he didn’t know John Mardell. No, he didn’t believe himself to be possessed. No, he hadn’t happened to pass the same stranger more than once in the past few weeks.

Spectacular.

She thanked Tom and hung up, looking across at her DI, shaking her head.

‘Oh, well.’ Mike craned his neck to stare at the sky. ‘Be dark soon. Wanna check the rest of that list?’

‘No harm while we’re here.’

They got out of the Alfa and took a side of the Renault each, systematically confirming the list of contents as they went.

Aside from the ageing, half-empty packets of Softmints and some sachets of barbecue sauce, the driver’s side lacked anything but a thick layer of general grime, which meant Hawkins reached the boot while Mike was still removing stuff from the glove box.

She found the release button and lifted the tailgate, peering inside, checking under the front section of flooring to find what looked like a virgin spare wheel. She replaced the cover and pulled the other items mentioned on the list towards her.

Upon closer inspection, the jerry can was empty, and the tow rope, stuffed in an old carrier bag, was dirty and frayed. But neither held any clues.