Susan took a moment before answering. Then she said, ‘Word went round. Anyone who fancied it. Frankly, I wouldn’t risk losing Paige again for all the money in the world.’

Clare looked back at Paige, playing contentedly on the floor. ‘I’m so glad she’s back with you.’ She drained her cup and rose from the chair. ‘Better get on.’

Susan saw her to the door. As she opened it she said, ‘Go easy on Mel. She’s a nice girl. Like the rest of us; she’s just doing her best.’

‘Any luck with the CCTV footage?’ Clare asked Mandy as she entered the incident room.

Mandy shook her head. ‘Not that I can see. I’ve still a few hours to trawl through. I’ve got your van, though.’

‘Yeah?’

She scrolled back through the footage to the point when the van arrived. ‘I asked Tech Support if they could enhance the image and they reckon this is the reg.’ She held out a Post-it note. ‘I’ve checked it with DVLA and it’s a black Ford Transit, converted to what they call a Crew Van with extra seats in the back.’

Clare stared at the Post-it. ‘Good work, Mandy. Got the owner?’

‘Yep. I’ll just jot it down for you.’ She checked her notepad and wrote down a name and address. ‘It’s out Bogward way.’

Lawmill Gardens was a quiet residential street that ran off Bogward Road, Clare’s main route home to Daisy Cottage.

‘What’s her name?’ Chris said, peering at the paper Clare had handed him. ‘I can’t make out Mandy’s writing.’

‘Samantha Reynolds,’ Clare said, pulling up next to a low bungalow. ‘And there’s our vehicle.’ A black Ford Transit sat in the drive and Clare checked the registration against the number Mandy had given them. ‘Yep. That’s it.’ She pulled off her seat belt. ‘Let’s see what she has to say for herself.’

Samantha Reynolds was in her late thirties, Clare thought. She was slim, dressed in skinny white jeans and a checked top. Her hair was scraped back accentuating her bony features. She was heavily made up and looked as if she was about to go out. She stood in the doorway and glanced at Clare’s warrant card. ‘What’s this about?’ she said.

‘Could we talk inside please?’

She stood back to let them in. ‘I’m supposed to be on my way out.’

‘We’ll be as quick as we can,’ Clare said smoothly. ‘In here, is it?’ She indicated a door just off the hall.

‘Suppose.’ Samantha followed them in and stood, her arms folded. ‘So?’

‘You have a black Ford Transit van outside. Is it yours?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Can I ask what it’s used for?’

Samantha nodded at two black bin bags, knotted at the neck. ‘Right now, I’m using it to take this lot to the dry cleaners.’