His next call was to DS Green in Bristol. ‘Green, it’s Jameson. I need a favour.’ He hopped off the train and on to the platform of a station called Horsforth.

As Jameson waited for his Uber, DS Green called back. ‘You were right,’ he said. ‘The PA did know where the meeting was. She was very apologetic. It’s a lunch meeting in a restaurant called Browns which she told me is in The Light, a shopping centre at the top of town. I called but the woman said they were busy and it was impossible to check who was there.’

‘I’ll head there now. And thank you. I owe you one.’

‘What the hell’s going on up there? Why the panic?’

‘I saw Stuart Rose-Butler this morning in a hotel. My girlfriend’s staying there. I think he was waiting for her.’

‘Why didn’t you approach him?’

‘He looked nothing like his photograph. He was clean-shaven and well-dressed. I didn’t realize it was him at the time.’ The Uber arrived and Jameson waved to the driver and climbed in the back seat.

‘But you’re sure now?’ Green’s tone had its typical air of suspicion.

‘Positive.’

‘After that Faye Graham business, I hope for your sake you’re wrong.’

Me too, thought Jameson as he hung up. Me too.

52

Bloom was on the train to Leeds when Jameson called from a taxi. It took a lot of willpower not to say, I told you so. When Sarah had called yesterday to say she’d be in Leeds, Bloom had told him not to go. But he had brushed off her concerns.

She’d replied to the last WhatsApp message with a very specific question – Why me? – but there’d been no response. As they’d canvassed Ilkley, Bloom had kept an eye on her phone. Was this someone who knew her? Or a family member of someone she’d helped convict? How could she know when these functional psychopaths were all hiding in plain sight?