He brought his mug of tea back into the office and sat down behind his desk. ‘Can you describe Hannah to me? Height, weight, hair colour, that kind of thing?’

‘Why do you want to know all that stuff if you’re not in charge of missing persons?’ There was a puzzled tone to Nathan’s voice, as if he suspected Tom of keeping something from him, which indeed he was.

‘We’ve had an incident recently, and I’d like to rule out any connection with Hannah.’

‘What sort of an incident? Don’t bullshit me, Tom. Just tell me.’

Tom sighed. ‘Have you seen the news since you’ve been back?’

‘No, I just got back from following what I thought was a good lead but was probably a wild-goose chase. I decided to come straight to see you. Anyway, I don’t watch the news if I can help it. What have I missed?’

There was little choice but to tell him. ‘We found the body of a young woman at Pennington Flash. Do you know where that is?’

‘Course I do. Do you think it’s Hannah?’ Nathan might be good at controlling his facial expressions, but his voice had risen in pitch.

Tom shook his head. ‘I don’t want you to worry. There’s no reason at all to think it’s Hannah. Thousands of people go missing every week, but I’d like to rule her out. What can you tell me about her?’

‘That’s a bit of a hard question, given what a crap brother I’ve been. I couldn’t tell you if she’s fat or thin, or whether her hair is long or short. I told you – I haven’t seen her for years. Her hair is naturally very dark, but if you’re going to ask me about tattoos or scars, I don’t have the first idea. Sorry.’

‘Don’t you have any pictures?’

Nathan sighed. ‘I know it sounds pathetic, but no, nothing recent. I might have been able to dig out something from when she was about ten if I was back home in Atlanta. She has a Facebook page, but the privacy settings are high. Her cover image is of the sea, for some obscure reason, and her profile picture is a girl in a Halloween mask. I presume it’s her, but it’s no help.’

Tom managed to draw out everything Nathan did know about his sister, which was essentially confirmation of her age, height and the natural colour of her hair, and he felt a pang of concern for the man. The scant description matched Penny’s.

‘I may not have seen her in a while, Tom, but I would recognise my sister. I’m sure of that. So why are we faffing around guessing? I want to know for sure if it’s her. You’d better let me take a look.’

CHAPTER 25

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