‘We start from the premise that Mr Delaney is alive and well, and then try to confirm that using all the different avenues available to us: mobile phone data, banking records, social media, utility bill payments, DWP, tax, CCTV, you name it. Everything we can get our hands on, basically, to see if there is evidence that Mr Delaney is out there somewhere. It’s actually very difficult to live nowadays without leaving any trace at all.’

‘He’s already been on Facebook, and text, and on the phone to Mel yesterday.’

‘Yup,’ Naylor said, leaning back in his chair. ‘I’ve made a note of all of those. We’ll be looking at them along with everything else.’

‘And there might be CCTV at the Premier Inn? So you could see for yourselves what happened on Thursday.’

‘There’s a system there, but it’s pretty ancient and more for show than anything else. Four cameras, three of them out of order, the other one covering the reception desk.’

‘You’ve checked it already?’

‘Yup. The footage is not much use to us, I’m afraid.’

I sighed, my shoulders dropping.

‘So how long does the whole process take?’

‘We’ll be fast-tracking this one, for reasons I think I’ve outlined.’

It all sounded very formal, very official. Very serious.

‘Should I have a solicitor?’

‘Do you think you need one?’

‘I’ve no idea. This is all new to me, I’ve never had any real contact with the police before.’ I spread my hands. ‘What do you think I should do?’

‘Completely up to you. As the senior investigating officer I’m obliged to advise you of your rights, but I’m not allowed to give you an opinion on legal representation. That sort of thing could end up going against us.’

‘Against us in general, or against you in particular?’

‘Against me.’ He smiled again, but there was no humour in it. ‘Stay local, Joe. We’ll be in touch.’

Chapter 33

33

The three-storey red-brick police station felt like a presence squatting behind me as I emerged, blinking, back out on Salisbury Road. People walking past me left and right, cars passing on the street, the smells of diesel and dirt and greasy takeaway food mingling in the autumn drizzle.

What did I just admit to?

Why don’t they believe me?

What the hell is going on?

The police interview had lasted less than an hour, but it felt like I’d aged five years. It seemed I’d entered a game whose rules I didn’t understand, and bet everything on the outcome. My life was juddering from one disaster to the next.

Time to get some legal advice.

I turned down DS Redford’s offer to drop me back at Fryent Country Park. I wanted to get away from the police as quickly as possible. I got a black cab instead and drove my car home.