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Chapters (62)
  1. Title
  2. Copyright
  3. Contents
  4. About the Author
  5. About the Book
  6. Dedication
  7. Your Worst Nightmare
  8. ONE
  9. TWO
  10. THREE
  11. FOUR
  12. FIVE
  13. SIX
  14. SEVEN
  15. EIGHT
  16. NINE
  17. The Answer to All Your Prayers
  18. TEN
  19. ELEVEN
  20. TWELVE
  21. THIRTEEN
  22. FOURTEEN
  23. FIFTEEN
  24. SIXTEEN
  25. SEVENTEEN
  26. EIGHTEEN
  27. NINETEEN
  28. TWENTY
  29. TWENTY-ONE
  30. TWENTY-TWO
  31. TWENTY-THREE
  32. TWENTY-FOUR
  33. TWENTY-FIVE
  34. TWENTY-SIX
  35. TWENTY-SEVEN
  36. TWENTY-EIGHT
  37. TWENTY-NINE
  38. THIRTY
  39. THIRTY-ONE
  40. Somebody Else’s Child
  41. THIRTY-TWO
  42. THIRTY-THREE
  43. THIRTY-FOUR
  44. THIRTY-FIVE
  45. THIRTY-SIX
  46. THIRTY-SEVEN
  47. THIRTY-EIGHT
  48. THIRTY-NINE
  49. FORTY
  50. FORTY-ONE
  51. FORTY-TWO
  52. FORTY-THREE
  53. FORTY-FOUR
  54. FORTY-FIVE
  55. FORTY-SIX
  56. FORTY-SEVEN
  57. FORTY-EIGHT
  58. FORTY-NINE
  59. Sunlight on Water
  60. July
  61. September
  62. Acknowledgements

Instead, he squeezes his grandfather’s hand, and when Jack returns the pressure, he knows he’s understood that Evan’s answer is Yes.

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SIX

21 August

Ron’s left June at the RHS gardens at Hyde Hall with a promise to be back in time to meet up for lunch. He’s not anticipating problems: a short drive to Petersen’s, and a casual enquiry at reception as to whether his old mate Brian Birch might be around. Beyond that, the plan is less concrete, but he’s got the confidence born of years of experience to know he can carry it off. And there’s a maverick freedom in being outside the framework, not being bound by the rules: no warrant card, no traceability. Ron never did any undercover policing, but he’s worked with men and women who have, and they all say the same. You can get away with so much more if no one knows who you are. Anonymity rules. If he finds anything of interest, he’ll pass it on to Naylor, and she can get herself over here and ask the same questions on an official basis. Job done.

As it turns out, the job is done much quicker than he expects.

The satnav leads him on to an industrial estate, one of those places populated by small businesses you’ve never heard of, all doing essential, niche jobs not enough people need doing to ever make it big. Widget grinders and laundry services, motor factors and skip hire. And companies like Petersen’s, compressed air and hydraulics specialists. Not everybody’s everyday supplier.

And it would seem it’s possible to be too niche.

When the satnav shows the chequered flag to tell Ron he’s reached his destination, he stops the car. He’s in the heart of the estate, surrounded by low brick buildings with a few cars and vans on their forecourts and very little, apparently, going on. What should be Petersen’s building is between an electrical supplies place and a company specialising in tile adhesives, but there are no cars on its forecourt and no lights on inside.

He parks right in front of the door and gets out of the car. There’s mesh on the windows, a collection of rubbish and blown leaves around the doorstep and a piece of wood over the letter box to stop the delivery of mail. The only sign Petersen’s were ever here is the nameplate by the door which no one’s bothered to take down, a stylised image of a wind turbine and a strap-line reading Pneumatic Technology Solutions.

Ron looks around. At a road junction about a hundred metres away, there’s a breakfast and burger van. He walks over to it.

Seeing Ron approach, the guy sitting behind the counter folds his copy of the Mirror and stands up, wiping his hands on his chef’s trousers.