He looks at me questioningly.

‘I got as far as the lake and then I had this moment of clarity. I pulled over, realising I should have given the letter straight to the police. I shouldn’t have taken the situation into my own hands. I just… I don’t know. I don’t know. All I did know was that I couldn’t change it. I was almost here, and I just had to hope there’d be something within her letter that might help us find her.’

‘And yet,’ he says, ‘there’s nothing.’

‘No,’ I concede. ‘It seems not.’

I drop my head back, my eyes closed. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Grey. James. I am so sorry, I just… I tried to do the right thing. But I didn’t think. I wasn’t thinking. I don’t know what was so important for her to write to you, I’m just sorry I swanned in and dropped it on you like this. I’ve been focused on finding her for my own reasons, I guess I’m not entirely thinking straight.’

As I open my eyes, I see he is nodding. Agreeing with my words. Each nod seems to build an unspoken, invisible wall around the pain I’ve just brought him. ‘I think you should go.’ He stands, going back to reach for the letter from the shelf. He takes a key out of a red plastic pencil tidy, unlocking a drawer in the bottom of his desk to get another key. ‘I’m sorry for your long journey, and that this has all been a waste of your time, but I think you should leave.’ With each word, and each action, his body gets stronger, more upright. Uptight. His face changes, closing down. The demeanour of a man in charge returns. He reaches for a tin in a secret drawer within his desk. He unlocks it, puts the letter in and puts it away, reversing the process to hide the second key in the bottom drawer and the first key back in the pen tidy. ‘I should get on with my life. I have a daughter, here in my house. A wife. We need each other.’ He changes his mind, reaching for the pen-tidy key again, placing it instead in a briefcase beside him, which he moves to the side of his desk, away from view. Then he stands before me, looking to the ground, waiting for me to go.

I stand up, but can’t leave without checking one last time. ‘Have you any idea where she might be? Where she might have gone?’ I ask. ‘Is there anything you can think of? A favourite place? Or a friend we haven’t thought about? I can see I’ve made a mistake coming here, and I understand, I apologise, but… please.’

‘It was a very long time ago, Rhys. Sheffield’s changed, Susan’s changed… I wouldn’t know where to begin.’

My shoulders drop, the full realisation of this wasted trip weighing them down. I dig around for my wallet, taking out a dog-eared business card and dropping it onto his desk. ‘Just in case.’