It brought home that this was not simply a teenage girl doing something irresponsible.

This was an investigation, a news story. It was not going away. He picked up Rudi and rubbed the soft, threadbare patch over his right eye. He held him to his face and the smell of his daughter enveloped him.

For the first time he wondered whether he would ever smell that smell again, and he started to cry.

Twelve Years Earlier, 9 July 2006

1

DI Wynne sipped her coffee. It was milky and sweet. She didn’t like it that way, but Detective Superintendent Marie Ryan – a couple of ranks above her and not known for her frivolity – had handed it to her and she didn’t want to say anything.

‘So,’ Ryan said. ‘You’re working on the missing girl? You don’t think she’s gone off with a boy? Escaping to the big city.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Wynne replied. ‘She doesn’t seem the type.’

‘There is no type,’ Ryan said. ‘At least not in my experience.’

‘I know. But I think there’s more to this than a runaway teenager.’

‘OK. It’s your case. What do you think happened?’

‘I think someone took her,’ Wynne said. ‘Could be random. Rape, maybe. Or murder. Or both. But I think she was taken.’

‘If she was, you want to hope she’s dead,’ DSI Ryan said. ‘Because the alternatives are not pretty.’

Wynne nodded. This was the reason she’d come to talk to Ryan. She was an expert in the kinds of criminal gangs who trafficked young girls. Boys, too, sometimes.

‘What are the alternatives?’ Wynne said.

‘Forced prostitution. If it’s that, she could be anywhere in the world by now. Those people know how to move their victims around quickly. Or pornography. The really vile kind. Snuff movies, rape movies. Live shows on the internet where the punters tell the gang what they want them to do.’ Ryan caught Wynne’s gaze. ‘I’ve seen some bad things, Detective Inspector. People mutilated. Killed even. All so some bastard can get an erection. You want to hope she’s not caught up in that.’

‘Do you know anyone who might be able to tell us if she is? A grass?’

Ryan shook her head. ‘No. It’s a closed world. Some of the gang bosses might know something, but even they keep away from this stuff. And they won’t talk to us anyway.’

‘Who would be most likely to know something?’

Ryan looked at Wynne, her head tilted. ‘They won’t tell you anything. You’re police. The enemy.’

‘I can try.’

‘It’s your investigation.’ Ryan lifted her mug to her lips. ‘One name springs to mind. He might know how to find out what’s out there. If there’s a new video, or live event or whatever they do.’

‘Who is it?’

‘Mullins. Mike Mullins.’