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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

Woking. He remembers the address when he sees it written down, and he’s noted the registration number of an orange Mini Cooper. Attention to detail: it’s a bad habit he’s no intention ever of breaking. There was a school nearby; he remembers hearing the noise.

Lindsey Stockman. She’d asked what his interest was in the car.

And there it is, exactly the little detail he’s looking for.

FORTY-TWO

FORTY-TWO

21 December

Naylor’s phone rings as she’s driving to work, sitting in traffic at the Cauldwell roundabout, hearing Slade on the radio for the thousandth time this week.

‘Good morning, Mr Perdue,’ she says. ‘How’s tricks?’

She edges the car forward a couple of feet. The dashboard clock is showing a time which is getting close to her being late.

‘How’s tricks yourself? Did you have a good time Saturday night?’

Naylor smiles.

‘As a matter of fact, I did.’

‘And Sunday morning?’

‘Way outside your area of interest, Ron.’

Ron laughs.

‘Do you want me to open the envelope?’

‘Did you really do that?’

‘The name inside begins with L.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Right or wrong?’

‘As one of our clients might say under caution, no comment.’

‘I’ll take that as a yes, then. He’d be good for you. Maybe he was already.’

‘Moving on.’

‘As you wish. While you were out heating up the dance floor, I was having a look through my old notes, and I came across something that could be interesting. That address I went to in Woking, a previous owner of the Focus.’ Naylor hears a pause as he refers to his notes. ‘Lindsey Stockman.’

‘You said you thought she was clean.’

‘At the time, I did. Maybe she still is. But she mentioned a car her ex-partner bought when he got rid of the Ford.’

A gap in the traffic has opened up in front of Naylor. Concentrating on what Ron’s saying makes her slow to drive into it, prompting a beeping horn behind.

‘What sort of car?’

‘An Alfa Romeo.’

‘And?’

‘Maybe an Alfa Romeo Spider? Nippy little sports car, used to be many a middle-aged bloke’s wet dream?’

‘Bloody hell. Evan’s spider could be a car.’

‘Could be, maybe. Could be nothing of interest, but if I were you, I’d be having an official word with Lindsey Stockman. Rule it in, or rule it out. No stone unturned.’

Naylor’s thinking.

‘How am I going to bring it to the table, though? If Campbell finds out I asked you to go there, he’ll go mad.’

‘You’re forgetting our old friend, the anonymous tip-off.’

‘Who’d tip us off about that, though?’

‘That’s the beauty of anonymous tip-offs, Rachel. You don’t get to know who’s made them, nor do you have to put a name to them.’

There’s a short silence.