‘Ah. I see. You’re wondering why I have nappies. Maybe I have a baby squirrelled away in a hidden basement under my garage, that kind of thing?’

‘No,’ James said. ‘Of course not—’

‘It’s fine. No baby, I’m afraid. It’s a box of old books. They happen to be in a Pampers box.’ He closed the kitchen door. ‘Anyway. Back to quadratic equations …’

4

It had been a while since she had driven past Best’s house. There had been no reason to.

Until today. Until the letter had come.

It had arrived at the police station that morning, addressed to her. Three sentences, typed on a piece of A4 paper.

DEAR DETECTIVE INSPECTOR WYNNE:

IT’LL BE A YEAR SOON.

She had known immediately what it was referring to.

Maggie Cooper. It had to be. She’d been taken nearly a year earlier.

Forensics had examined it, but there was nothing useful. Standard ink and paper, LaserJet printer, no fingerprints or DNA. It could have come from anyone. The postmark was Manchester, but that meant nothing. Lots of people lived in, worked in or visited Manchester.

And then the second sentence.

YOU MISSED SOMETHING BACK THEN. THE CLUES WERE THERE. THEY STILL ARE.

And then the finale.

HERE’S TO ANOTHER YEAR. BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME, DETECTIVE INSPECTOR.

YOURS SINCERELY,

???

It was not unheard of for criminals – particularly serial criminals – to taunt the police like this. They liked to make it personal, which was why it was addressed to her. It made it a game of wits.

Either that, or it was a hoax, some idiot getting a kick out of causing trouble. That wasn’t unheard of, either.

She turned into Best’s street. She wanted to drive past and take a look, see if it jogged any memories. There was a car parked outside, with a man getting out.

It took her a second or two to recognize him, and another second or two to wonder why he was here, of all places.

She pulled up behind Martin Cooper’s car and got out.

‘Mr Cooper,’ she said. ‘Detective Inspector Wynne. I—’

‘I remember you.’ He didn’t seem pleased to see her. She couldn’t blame him.

‘How are you?’ she said.

‘Not too bad.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘You decided to stop for a chat?’

‘No. Not exactly.’ She put a hand on her car roof. ‘I was wondering what you were doing here. At Best’s house.’

‘Is there a problem?’

‘No. I was wondering. That’s all.’

‘Well, nothing to wonder about. I’m picking up my son.’

‘Your son?’ Wynne said. ‘What’s he doing here?’

Martin looked at the front door. It was open and James and Mr Best were standing on the threshold.

‘Maths tuition,’ he said. ‘He was struggling a little and Mr Best offered to help. He used to teach Sandra.’