‘I know it’s been a while,’ she says. ‘We’ve no excuse to offer really, except the trail went cold and we’d nowhere else to go. And with the pressure of other work . . .’

‘I understand that,’ says Claire, spooning coffee into her smart white mugs. ‘Of course I know budgets are tight. But those men who took Evan are dangerous, and they’re a risk to everyone until they’re caught. Aren’t they?’

Hagen looks at his shoes and clears his throat.

‘Yes, they are,’ he says. ‘To be honest, that’s why we’re here. I don’t want to beat about the bush. Another young boy has been snatched.’

Claire freezes with the spoon halfway between cup and coffee jar, her eyes wide with shock.

‘You’re kidding,’ she says. ‘Another boy’s gone? From Evan’s school?’

‘Sadly we’re very far from kidding,’ says Naylor. ‘But he’s not from this area. There’s been an incident in Cheshire. You may have seen it on the news. We’ve been in touch with Cheshire police and there are some distinct similarities, so we’re pretty sure the two cases are related. So we’re here to speak to Evan, to see if he can help us help this other boy. I don’t need to tell you how desperate his parents are feeling.’

Coffee forgotten, Claire lays the spoon down on the counter. She shakes her head and covers her mouth with her hand.

‘My God, those poor, poor people. This is terrible. How awful. How can it have happened again?’

Naylor and Hagen have no response. With no dedicated resources assigned to Evan’s case and no leads from Bobby Gillard – who has persisted with his no comment stance – a repeat of the offence was almost inevitable, though it’s in no one’s interests for them to say so. They need Claire to believe or be persuaded there’s a good chance now of a breakthrough, because without her co-operation, they’ll never gain Evan’s help. And Evan’s help is absolutely essential if the new victim is to be rescued alive.

To that end, Hagen opens the leather folder he’s carrying and brings out a photo, a school-uniform pose of a boy in a blue blazer, dark hair freshly barbered, a grin over slightly crooked teeth giving an air of character and cheekiness.

‘This is him,’ says Hagen, and Claire’s eyes fill with tears. ‘Liam Keslake, aged eleven.’

‘Just like Evan,’ breathes Claire. ‘He looks so young.’

‘Just like Evan. On his own at a bus stop, there one moment, vanished the next.’

‘The thing is, Claire,’ says Naylor, ‘we’re really hoping this may be enough to persuade Evan to talk to us, to give us that statement. It’s been several months. How’s he been doing?’