‘Take photos of unfaithful spouses or of whiplash victims faking their injuries?’ I ventured.

Jon’s pursed lips and immediate frosty air let me know my assessment had been way off. ‘None taken,’ he replied. ‘Actually, that’s a lie. Definitely some offence taken.’

‘Apologies if I’ve hurt your feelings. So would you be able to get me Stoats’s home address?’

‘You don’t want much, do you?’

‘Is that a yes or a no?’

‘Of course I can get it.’ Jon sounded affronted that I’d ever doubted his abilities. ‘But why d’you want it?’

‘I thought I’d pay him a visit and get him to help me find my daughter,’ I continued.

‘And if he says no?’

‘He won’t.’

‘What makes you so sure?’

‘I can be very persuasive.’

Jon nodded slowly. ‘Yeah, I bet.’

Not a compliment. This man really didn’t like me. He was trying his best to keep his expression amiably neutral, but my antennae were rarely wrong about such things.

‘Let me come with you when you visit Stoats,’ said Jon.

No way. I started to shake my head.

‘Hear me out,’ said Jon. ‘I want to work with you until your daughter and Callie’s brother are found, so put me to work.’

‘I don’t think so. You—’

Jon raised a hand to interrupt me. ‘You need me just as much as Callie does. I get things done.’

‘I don’t need—’

‘Did you hear what I said? When I’m on the job, shit gets done. And I’m not above … shall we call it bending the law a little – or a lot – to get results. If I’m reporting directly to you rather than Callie, I’m sure you won’t be as squeamish about how I get the job done as long as any fallout doesn’t land on your head. D’you read me?’

‘Like a baby’s picture book.’ We regarded each other. Jon’s smile was slightly mocking. As I’d said, the man didn’t like me much.