‘Sorry to keep you waiting, officer. I was in the shower. Have you got some form of identification? I take my safety precautions seriously.’

Lewis took an immediate dislike to the man nervously peeping through the gap. The detective took his warrant card from the inside pocket of his summer jacket, handing it to the man, who looked at it closely, raising it close to his eyes for what seemed like an age before handing it back.

‘Right, I think that’s satisfactory, although the photo could do with an update. You had more hair in those days. And fewer lines on your face.’

Lewis quietly seethed. ‘Just open the door, please, sir. I’m hoping you may be able to help me with my enquiries.’

Heath fought to stop his hand shaking as he reached for the chain.

‘You seem a little nervous if you don’t mind me saying so, sir.’ The man opened the door, but didn’t invite the detective into the house, or stand aside to allow him to pass. ‘I’m cold after my shower. I didn’t have the time to dry myself properly. You called at a most inconvenient time.’

There was something about the man that made Lewis suspicious. He seemed on edge. He was worried about something, but what? Lewis had conducted his previous interviews on the doorstep, knocking at one house after another, hoping for and sometimes receiving a reply from those who weren’t in work. But this time seemed different. There was a tension in the air. ‘My name’s Detective Sergeant Raymond Lewis, I’m part of a team investigating the disappearance of a little girl named Lottie Weller. She’s a neighbour living across the street. Do you know her?’

The man nodded his acknowledgement. There seemed little purpose in lying. Placate the pig, that was best. Show no fear. He wanted him gone, and quickly too. ‘Yes, I know her family well, lovely people. My name’s Martin Heath; I’m a teaching assistant at Lottie’s school. It’s a terrible business. I think of little else. I’m having difficulty sleeping nights. It’s awful to think that such things happen in a quiet town like ours.’

Lewis weighed up the response. He was a teaching assistant for sure, but the rest of it? The man was clearly on edge. Maybe it was nerves. Contact with the police sometimes did that, even to the innocent. ‘Can I come in, please, Mr Heath? I can see you’re shivering. It would be more comfortable than speaking on the doorstep.’

Heath mumbled under his breath as if talking to somebody else entirely, before eventually saying, ‘Is that really necessary?’

Lewis studied him closely. ‘I really would appreciate your help. As you said, you know Lottie. I’m sure you’d want to assist me if you can.’

Heath thought of refusing. But what would that achieve? Best let the pig in. Best get it over with. He turned and walked down the hall. ‘If you’d follow me, Sergeant, we can speak in the lounge. If there’s anything I can do to help, I’ll be only too delighted. Lottie is an innocent in a dangerous world.’