I saw a middle-aged man in loose running shorts, huffing his way across a field. Joe saw something completely different. He gasped and tried to touch it with his finger.

‘My brother,’ he said. ‘Gus. It’s really him. But he’s …’ His voice trailed off. I carried on talking, knowing we had limited time.

‘Joe,’ I said. ‘Do you remember I told you that Gus has kids? And a partner called Abby Fielding?’ He nodded. ‘And that I thought I could try to get babysitting work with them? It probably won’t lead to anything, but I put a note through their door just in case. Did you have a red-and-yellow plastic car when you were a kid?’

He looked utterly dejected. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I think so. You moved it around with your feet. I thought I was the coolest guy, driving my own car.’

‘It was in their garden. It looked really old.’

He didn’t reply to that, so I just carried on talking. ‘Do you want me to do this, Joe, or is it too much? Not just the babysitting, but all of it. I’ve been thinking about what else I could do. If you like I could try to work out what happened to you. It might help. Do a bit of, you know, detective work, if that doesn’t sound too stupid. At least we might know then. And your family would know too.’

‘Yes,’ he said after a long pause. ‘Yes. Please. The babysitting and the detecting. If you don’t mind. I think it would be good for them all to know. And I’d probably feel a bit better if I knew. Otherwise you just … imagine.’

‘They probably won’t need a babysitter.’

He screwed up his eyes. ‘Did you tell me what Gus’s kids are called? Are there any photos?’

‘I didn’t tell you their names,’ I said, ‘because I didn’t know them then. I do now. They’re called Zara and Coco. They’re about – I’m not sure. From the photos, I’d say maybe five and sevenish? Something like that. Abby’s on Facebook, and she has loose privacy settings.’

I caught his expression. ‘Yeah, I’ll explain another time. Do you want to see photos?’

I looked him in the eye. I could see how confusing and awful this was, but he gave a small nod, so I opened my photos and flicked through the screenshots I’d taken during my comprehensive stalking operation.

‘Here you go. This is your sister-in-law. And these are your nieces. She doesn’t show their faces on Insta, but she does on Facebook. Fuck. I’m sorry, Joe.’