Dave had arranged the visit by phone and drove into Larkspur Avenue on a cold misty morning. He pulled up in front of the Parks’s neat detached home. From his phone call, Dave knew Hayley would be there; he’d learned from her mother that the girl had been unable to return to school since her ordeal and was now being homeschooled. Angela Parks had given up her career to be with Hayley, teach her full time and do whatever it took to help her daughter recover from the trauma she’d suffered. Dave admired the woman. Kidnapping was an evil crime which left scars on the children and the whole family – scars that often never healed.

Angela opened the door and invited Dave inside. Dave assumed her husband, Stuart, would be at work. She led him to the lounge, a large airy room with which he was familiar from long hours spent interviewing the couple and coordinating the investigation.

Dave’s first thought was for their daughter. ‘How’s Hayley?’

‘As well as can be expected. She still sees a counsellor each week and seems able to talk to her, but she doesn’t say much to me yet.’

As if on cue, Hayley came down the stairs and crossed the room to sit next to her mother. Angela slid a protective arm around her daughter’s thin shoulders.

‘Hello, Hayley,’ Dave greeted her. The girl managed a slight smile, the first time he’d seen her smile which could only be a positive sign. ‘I was just asking your mother how you were.’

‘I’m getting better, thank you.’ These were also the first words Dave had heard Hayley speak. After her ordeal she’d been silent for several days. When eventually able to answer questions a specially trained female officer worked with her, so Dave had minimal direct contact.

‘That’s good news. I’m pleased to hear it.’ He smiled. ‘I know how hard this has been for you, Hayley, and I want you to know we’re still working on finding the men who took you away. I thought you may have remembered something since I last saw you, often things come back to you even though you’re not particularly thinking about them.’ Dave paused and watched as Hayley twisted her hair around her fingers and looked down into her lap as if seeking inspiration.

‘They put some kind of cotton bag over my head so I couldn’t see their faces,’ Hayley almost whispered. Her mother let out a little gasp; this was clearly news to her.

‘That’s very good, Hayley. Even little things can sometimes be helpful. Did you ever hear them talking to each other? Perhaps one of them said a name?’ Dave probed.

‘Yes, I heard them talking but they didn’t say their names.’

‘And how did they talk? Did they sound like they were from around here, or perhaps they had a different accent?’