‘May we come in, sir?’ Grace asked politely, ignoring the comment.

They entered the small hallway as the man shut the door behind them. Grace glanced around; the interior was modern, fresh-feeling, minimalistic, but there was a faint smell of fried food and cigarette smoke. The smell seemed incongruous – the floral scents of expensive diffusers would have gone more appropriately with the decor, he thought.

‘Have you found my wife?’ Niall asked again with a nervous edge.

‘No, sir, I’m afraid not,’ Grace said. ‘We’d just like to have a chat with you.’

Niall expanded his arms. ‘Absolutely! And thank you for coming. Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee?’

‘We’re good, thank you,’ Grace said firmly.

They followed the man through into the modern-looking lounge and sat down on the white sofa he indicated. Niall Paternoster sat opposite. Grace noticed an ashtray on the coffee table that was crammed with butts.

‘Mr Paternoster, could you talk us through the circumstances of your wife’s disappearance? Starting with the last time you saw her?’ Grace asked.

‘What, again? Don’t you people talk to each other? This isn’t the first time I’ve gone over this.’

Grace didn’t tell him that one reason they liked people to recount events multiple times was that if they were lying, they would often start making mistakes or inconsistencies. All he said was an apologetic, ‘I’m sorry, sir, but it is important we understand exactly what happened and the timeline.’

Paternoster sighed. Then, as if suddenly realizing he was behaving strangely, his demeanour changed completely, all eager to help now. ‘The last time I saw Eden was yesterday afternoon. We were heading home after a nice day out. We’re members of the National Trust and we like visiting their houses – a regular thing we do on Sundays. But yesterday, actually, we went to Parham House.’

‘And everything was fine between you?’ Branson interjected.

There was a moment’s hesitation. ‘Well, we’d had a bit of a stupid argument – over cat litter.’ He recounted the circumstances, leading to Eden jumping out of the car in the store’s car park to go and grab a bag of the stuff.

‘That was the last time you saw her?’ Grace asked.

‘Correct.’

So much of this was resonating with Roy Grace. That nightmare, twelve years ago, on the evening of his thirtieth birthday.

‘Do you have any way of knowing if she actually went into the store?’ Branson quizzed.

Paternoster glared for a moment as a flash fire of irritation ignited, but he kept his calm. ‘No, I wasn’t following her, but that was my assumption – it’s the only reason she got out of the car.’

Paternoster went on to tell the officers what had happened subsequently, after she had failed to reappear. That he’d gone into the Tesco store shortly before closing time, and the staff had searched the place but not found her. How he had called her phone repeatedly, even though he knew it had very little battery left, then her friends and family, as well as checking with all the local hospitals. When he had arrived back home, he’d searched the house for her but there had been no sign. Everything he said, so far, tallied with the briefing Grace had been given from Detective Inspector Bryce Robinson.