The silence that followed was almost tangible, then Nikki’s patience ran out. ‘OK, so you were in the military?’

Joseph lifted his head, and she saw no anger in his face, only sadness.

‘That was another life. I’m not that man any more.’

‘From what I saw earlier, I think maybe you are.’

‘No, I’m not!’ exclaimed Joseph. A look of intense pain suffused his face. ‘Really. I’m not. It’s just that sometimes you chance on a situation, and the old ways, the indoctrination, the reflex, whatever you like to call it, just takes over.’

‘Lucky it did, Joseph. I had no idea that little shit had a knife. He could have killed either, or maybe even both, of us. And for that I thank you.’

Joseph shook his head almost violently. ‘Forget it. It never happened.’ He looked her full in the face. ‘And if you want to thank me, just let this go. I really don’t want to talk about the past, and I’d appreciate it if the team and the other officers here never know about my background. You know that regular career police officers don’t like squaddies who turn copper. In fact, some of them hate us. So? Please?’

Nikki tilted her head to one side. Maybe she was getting even more bitter and twisted, but recently she had found herself quite enjoying seeing someone squirm. But this was different. Joseph Easter was different. And strangely, she felt no pleasure, just a sad sort of discomfort for him. Certainly, there were a dozen questions running through her head, but now was not the time to ask them. Not with a girl missing.

She nodded and, to her surprise, found herself giving him the first smile that she could remember handing out for a very long while. ‘I think we have a suspect to interview, don’t we?’

The rest of the day passed in a blur, and by nightfall every available man and woman was out hunting for Kerry Anderson. Local media had been contacted and the superintendent had made an impassioned plea on national television.

Kris Brown had told them no more than they already knew, and his distraught mother had painted them a picture of a sensitive, highly intelligent, but slightly introverted, home-loving boy. Something more on a par with St Francis of Assisi, than a cold-blooded abductor of pretty girls.

Then, at eleven thirty, Nikki received a call from one of the villagers from Barnby Eaudyke. A call that meant she would have to let him go.

‘There was a fox around, Inspector. That’s why I kept going out into the garden. I have chickens, you see.’

‘So what time did you actually see Mr Brown, Mrs Roper?’ asked Nikki with something like exasperation.