She wanted to talk to the woman who’d also shut down the formidable Elaine Reilly. Maybe she could shed some light on the man who’d partied the weekend away with fifteen-year-old girls and not paid too much attention to who had access to his helicopter. On the plus side, the son, Fabian Kennedy-Craig, was planning to fly up to the Lake District. Better late than never, she thought uncharitably.

Town was quiet; though the roads were relatively clear, more snow was forecast for later today. Zoe had told her that even though the main body of the helicopter wreckage hadn’t been airlifted by Sea King to be examined yet, as it had turned out to be a bigger job than at first assumed, they’d tested many of the crucial mechanical elements of the craft in situ. The engines were in perfect working order. The yaw pedals were functional, the main rotor blades were fully functioning before they were ground into the marshy mud, and of course the data from the CFDCVR all pointed to one thing: catastrophic mechanical failure caused by a leaking hydraulic line. Zoe and Lance had stayed in a hotel in Glenridding last night, and were heading back to Laurie Fell today. Nellie Lowther had hidden away in her private cottage and hadn’t been seen once by the forensic officers, after letting them into the main house.

As Kelly reached the office, she read confirmation on her phone, via email, from the detectives in Manchester who’d interviewed Neil Hardy, that he’d positively identified Paul Edderbridge as the man bragging in the pub in Patterdale on Sunday night. Kelly walked into a warm office, and a mug of coffee was placed in her hand by Rob, who she thought looked fresher than he had in weeks. The team was assembled and ready to go, and Kelly sorted her notes out ready to collate. They now had two missing minors, sober pilots, a functioning helicopter and a house set up for a private sex party, which wasn’t against the law, unless it involved minors. It would be a tough pill to swallow for the families, not to mention the Home Office, but something told Kelly that neither would be surprised.

Now she had to fill in the gaps by leaning on Nellie Lowther, who was due in at ten a.m. with a lawyer provided by Tactika; bring in Paul Edderbridge; and find two missing girls. She’d faced worse days. She stood in front of her team and took a gulp of coffee. Kate had updated the software programme they all shared on their Toughpads, with information on Chloe Tate and Sasha Granger. They studied it and took it in. School photographs of the two girls came up on the white screen on the wall.

‘Kate, do you want to start?’