‘Alright, sir. Thanks for the speech by the way. We’ll prise that crack open for you. You don’t have to worry about my motivation.’ He looked into Patrick’s eyes. ‘I mean, you know how I feel about people – men or women – who hurt their kids.’

He exited, leaving Patrick clenching his fists and counting to ten.

Winkler was one of those people who specialized in finding weak spots and poking them. Well, he had just got himself assigned to search party duty for the rest of this investigation. An image of Winkler crawling across Bushy Park on his hands and knees, dodging used condoms and dog shit, made him feel a lot brighter.

‘I’ll call a press conference for later this morning,’ Suzanne said. ‘The media are already going bonkers. We’ve got Sky News running a ticker about the case – they’re camped outside here and the Philipses’ house. Same with the BBC, ITV, all the papers.’

‘Don’t tell me, Perez Hilton is flying over to cover it too.’

Suzanne ignored him. ‘Let’s get a statement from the parents, read it out.’

‘I can handle that,’ said Carmella. She looked fresh this morning, Patrick thought enviously. She had probably had a nice long leisurely bath with lots of scented bubbles and a cup of tea brought to her by her wife.

‘OK, good.’ Suzanne nodded at Patrick. ‘You were right. We will find them.’

Before he could respond, Mike poked his head around the door.

‘Sir, your witness is here.’

Before going in to talk to Alice Philips, Patrick went to the Gents to splash some cold water on his already clean face, try to stop the tiredness pulling him into its murky depths. The shower hadn’t done the trick. As he dried his cheeks on a scratchy paper towel, one of the cubicles opened and DI Winkler emerged.

‘Keeping you up, are we?’ he said, standing at the basin next to Patrick.

As Patrick moved towards the door, Winkler stepped into his path.

‘Why’d you have to give me the search teams? Total waste of my skills. You know that.’

‘Stop moaning, Winkler.’

The other man narrowed his eyes and drew himself up to his full height so Patrick was forced to look up at him.

‘Must be handy having a wife in the loony bin,’ Winkler said.

‘What?’

‘Yeah. Loads of opportunity to invite Suzanne—’ he said her name like a ten-year-old teasing a classmate over a girl ‘—round to discuss tactics.’

‘What the fuck are you insinuating?’ Patrick tried to stay calm, his pulse accelerating.

‘Oh nothing. Just a little word of warning. It must be very nice being the DCI’s pet. But fuck this case up and you’ll be in the doghouse.’

Patrick shook his head. ‘Was that really the best you could come up with?’

He pushed past Winkler, their shoulders rubbing together. Before he left, he heard Winkler say, ‘Poor kids.’