‘Patrick, what’s wrong? I heard a commotion coming from in here.’ She saw his face. ‘Oh, please tell me Breem isn’t another dead end.’

He sat on a folding chair and sank his face into his hands. When he eventually lifted his head he said, ‘She has an alibi. She took great pleasure in telling us where she was when Liam was abducted. She was at work, in the factory, standing beside that conveyor belt all day with ten other women.’

‘You’ve called to check?’

He nodded wretchedly. ‘And we checked Mike’s theory, that maybe she was scouting out kids for the old family lodger, McLean. Turns out he died of cancer two years ago.’

‘Oh, shit.’

‘We’re back at square one.’ His gaze turned towards the photos of the children again. ‘Maybe I’m not the right man for this job. Maybe I shouldn’t be leading the investigation. I’m tired. So fucking tired after everything that’s happened in the last couple of years.’

Suzanne pulled up a chair and sat down beside him. ‘Patrick—’

‘Perhaps you should let Winkler take over. He’s gagging to.’

She put her hand on his forearm. It was warm. ‘No, Patrick. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You just need a break.’

‘Yeah, a long bloody holiday, preferably somewhere tropical . . .’

She smiled. ‘I don’t mean that kind of break, you idiot. I mean a break in the case. Some luck. Listen, we’ve got the photofit now, which we didn’t have this morning. We’ll go back over the lists from the Dads’ Club. We’ll talk to the travellers again. Whatever it takes. We’re going to find them. You’re going to find them, DI Lennon.’

His phone started ringing. He glanced at the screen – his mum – and silenced it.

Suzanne said, ‘I have faith in you, alright?’ Her hand was still on his arm. It felt good there. ‘Now stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself. That’s an order.’

He pulled himself straight. ‘Okay. No more feeling fucking sorry for myself.’

After she left the room, he took out his phone and saw he had a voicemail from his mum. Thinking it might be something about Bonnie, feeling that familiar lurch of anxiety in his stomach, he listened to the message.

‘Patrick, it’s me. Listen, I just had a call from the unit. It’s Gill. She’s asking to see you.’

Chapter 19

Chapter 19
Patrick – Day 3

In the eighteen months since Gill had been locked up, Patrick had tried to visit her four times, and each time she had refused to see him. Each time, he’d been both upset and relieved. He had not set eyes on her since she stood, head bowed, in the dock, and the sight of her had shattered his heart into irreparable pieces.