‘Her phoning everyone ties in with what we’ve found from the house-to-house,’ Jai said. ‘She’s spoken to every bugger in the village, asking about Rebecca Smith. That’s why it’s taking us so long to get through them.’

‘Okay, fair enough,’ I said. ‘And bank data?’

‘She used contactless and phone payments pretty regularly until Saturday. No unusual activity, no withdrawals of large amounts. And then nothing. We’ll get alerted if she accesses the account.’

‘Right,’ I said. ‘Anything more on alibis?’

‘Mandy maintains that Gary was with her,’ Jai said. ‘And Anna’s girlfriend, Esther, says Anna was with her. But Esther takes sleeping tablets, so there’s no way she can vouch for Anna. Kirsty was on a password-protected internet forum, logging in from her home, so hers is reasonably solid. Daniel doesn’t have an alibi.’

‘What forensics do we have?’ I said.

‘Nothing of any use so far,’ Craig said. ‘They all wear overalls – Daniel’s are navy blue, because he reckons the animals prefer that, and the rest are white. We found fibres from both blue and white overalls in the pig area and by the smashed CCTV, but that’s not exactly surprising. They all work there.’

‘Footwear marks?’ I said.

‘We found marks matching Anna’s, Gary’s and Daniel’s boots in both locations.’

I sighed and turned to Jai. ‘What about the abattoir waste? Where the hell is it?’

‘Yes, about that.’ Jai grimaced. ‘Sounds ridiculous, but we still can’t locate it. We do know nothing dodgy’s turned up at any rendering plants.’

‘You haven’t been able to find the company that took it away?’ I said.

Jai shook his head. ‘Not yet. It was clearly an illegal one.’

‘Great,’ I said. ‘I don’t like that at all. Keep on it. Someone must know what happened to it. We have to find that waste before it’s turned into … whatever it’s turned into.’

‘Food for our staff canteen.’ Jai was alluding to an unfortunate incident involving a man named ‘Maggot Pete’ who’d sold condemned chicken to the police. It had been a good week for vegetarians when that one came out.

‘Evidence of anyone else going to the abattoir on Sunday night?’

‘No. Turns out Mrs Ackroyd’s the only one in the whole of Gritton who stays up past half nine.’

‘Curse these wholesome village folk,’ I said. ‘But thank goodness for Mrs Ackroyd’s crippling insomnia.’

‘You’re all heart,’ Craig said.

The door banged open and Fiona barged in. ‘Sorry I’m late. We’ve had some info from the lab. There were traces of human blood and human hairs in the pig trough at the abattoir, and on Violet’s watch.’

Craig let out a low whistling noise.

I felt my insides sink as the hope that Violet was alive settled lower, deeper inside. ‘Are you saying the pigs attacked her?’