‘We can’t rule out the possibility the cellar is just a coincidence,’ she said to Ray, as they waited. ‘The taxi driver might not have even known about it, let alone kidnapped Mary Ellen and held her there.’

‘One step at a time,’ Ray said. ‘Let’s see if our super sergeant found it when he searched the house.’

Doyle pulled up a few minutes later, car tyres sloshing on the wet approach to the cottage. They met him at the door.

‘DS Brennan – good to see you again. I don’t think I’ve met your partner, have I?’

The sergeant offered his hand to Ray.

‘DS Ray Lennon,’ he replied, shaking it. ‘We’ll show you what we found, then we can have a chat.’

At their request, Doyle had brought torches and bottles of water. By now, they needed the light for inside the cottage as well as for the cellar.

Ray shone the torch at the open trapdoor and the hole in the floor.

Doyle looked at the two of them, bewildered.

‘Were you aware that this was here when you searched the building?’ Laura asked.

The sergeant shook his head.

‘No. But … what does it mean? Are you saying – are you actually implying that Cormac Ryan took Mary Ellen and kept her here? I told you already. We have about twenty witnesses who say he was back in the pub fifteen minutes after he dropped her home. It would have taken him half an hour to drive here and back – not including the time to get her into the cellar. Presumably, she’d have put up a fight.’

‘What sort of car did he drive?’ Ray asked.

‘I can’t remember. A saloon of some sort. A taxi driver’s car. Probably a Toyota.’

‘With a large boot?’

Doyle’s eyes widened.

‘You think he had her in the boot of the car the whole time? That he went back into that pub and sat there drinking orange juice and playing darts while she was locked in the car outside?’ The sergeant shook his head in disbelief. ‘No. That’s incredible. I mean, what sort of psychopath could do that?’

‘The sort who kidnaps and murders five women, then buries them in a scenic valley,’ Laura said, her voice laden with scorn. ‘Did he take any more taxi jobs that night, do you recall?’

Doyle flinched. His eyes flicked to the hole in the floor as he struggled to make sense of the new information.

‘No. He didn’t. He stayed in the pub for another hour. Then he went home. Alone.’

‘It’s interesting you recall that so clearly,’ Ray observed. ‘Was there something unusual about it?’

‘Yes,’ the sergeant said, his voice hushed now. ‘He would have normally stayed until closing time and ferried some of the locals home. He said he fancied an early night.’