Gillard shook his head with incredulity. ‘It’s going to be a big wake-up call for them tomorrow.’

‘Damn right,’ Stella said. ‘I’m looking forward to it. And from then on, I will share all our findings with you.’

‘Thank you. That would be appreciated. It will be fascinating to hear what Arrowsmith has to say for himself. I had wanted to be there myself to hear the story at first hand.’

She looked at her watch. ‘Yes. DI Eddie Nowak will be interviewing him about now. And I have to go.’ She rose from the table, gathered up her bag and phone, and surprised Gillard by giving him a peck on the cheek before turning and walking out.

While Gillard and Anderson were sharing a meal, Thames Valley Police brought Kelvin Arrowsmith home from hospital in an unmarked people carrier. Family Liaison Officer PC Soraya Shah gave him and his wife some space, and stepped out onto the front doorstep to talk to the young PC, Oliver Woodward, whose job it was to sign everyone in and out.

‘He’s lucky to be alive, from what I heard,’ Woodward said, squinting into the light. ‘They found him half buried in shit in a sewer.’

‘Unbelievable what some people will do,’ Soraya responded. ‘She was so relieved when she got the call to say he was safe. Cried for half an hour.’

‘Yeah, not surprising.’

‘Should find out more when he’s interviewed this evening,’ Soraya said.

‘Good job Surrey has nabbed the three guys responsible.’

‘That saves you having to fight them off single-handedly when they come for a second go,’ Soraya said with a chuckle. ‘Fancy a cuppa?’

‘Aw, yeah, I could murder one,’ Woodward said. ‘It’s so boring just standing here.’

Soraya stepped back inside. She could hear the radio on in the kitchen, but no conversation. She shrugged. Maybe they had gone upstairs for a cuddle, or more. She considered they were perhaps a little too conventional to do this when someone else was in the house. She filled the kettle and flicked on the switch, and having already found her way round the cupboards, grabbed two fresh mugs, a couple of teabags and milk from the fridge. While the water was boiling, she wandered through to the dining room, which looked out over the back garden. On a hunch, she went to the loo upstairs instead of the usual downstairs toilet. The door to the marital bedroom was open, and after listening and hearing nothing she peeked inside.

They weren’t there. But there were a heap of clothes on the bed, and the double wardrobe doors were open.

She guessed immediately. They’d done a runner.