They held their silence, knowing the search must be completed before the police could begin the task of looking elsewhere for Danny. Martha couldn’t bear to watch as strangers’ hands explored every space in her home, even beneath the beds. She was consumed with a desire to follow the police officers around and clean every door and cupboard they touched, but of course, she didn’t. The whole process left her with the uncomfortable feeling of having been violated – they may as well have searched her body too.

Every square foot of the garden was explored – the garage, the shed and the greenhouse – and as Martha watched from the window, she saw uniformed officers poking around with sticks, looking in the flower beds for newly turned earth. An eager police dog sniffed everywhere, its tail wagging as it worked with its handler. Her heart pounded as she longed for them to finish searching their home and move on to find her son.

More embarrassment was to follow when the police asked Richard and Martha where they’d been from 4pm until they reported their son missing nearly two hours later and they admitted they’d been at their respective places of work. Danny had made his own way home. A young PC raised a judgemental eyebrow but nothing was said.

Martha had tried ringing Danny’s mobile dozens of times but it went to voicemail on every occasion. This in itself was troubling, Danny always answered when his phone was switched on, which he did on leaving school.

If nothing else, Martha Stone was pragmatic. The owner of a successful recruitment agency, she was a busy working mother who filled every minute of the day productively. Martha was forty-three with ash-blonde hair, usually tied neatly with a clasp at the base of her neck, and grey-green eyes, the same colouring as her son. She was five feet six inches tall and of slim build, more to do with genetics than any regular exercise – Martha had no time for such luxuries.

Richard, too, worked more hours than was healthy, as a barrister, and their eleven-year-old son, Danny, had his own schedule to which he dutifully adhered. The Stones loved their only child, but had never the time nor the inclination to baby him. The small family were content in their world, with the cogs of everyday life slotting neatly into place.