‘No. According to my contact, Hampshire didn’t ask for anything earlier than a week before the accident. As it is, we’ve only got the metadata. It would really help if Hampshire sent us the contents of Ozzy’s phone. Texts, email, stuff like that, to save us the trouble of getting another warrant.’

‘I’ve asked Anderson, but I’m being stonewalled.’

‘Okay, the earliest location data we have for the burner phone is at the start of January, a week before Ozzy disappeared. Not too many calls, but all from the same location. Not in Rissington Common, but on the southern edge of Haslemere.’

‘Give me the location, and I’ll see what’s there,’ Gillard said.

An hour later Gillard parked his unmarked Vauxhall on the B2131 Camelsdale Road, on the southern edge of Haslemere. From the location he had copied into his iPad, this was roughly the triangulation of the two contacts between Ozzy Blanchard’s work phone and the burner phone. The road was lined with pleasant turn-of-the-century semi-detached cottages, and the odd bungalow. The calls to Blanchard could have been made from any of three dozen different homes. Google Maps flagged up a few businesses dotted amongst the houses. A PC repair outfit, an accountancy firm specialising in small businesses, and New-Age Therapeutics.

Some quick searches on the web added little more information, except one crucial name. New-Age Therapeutics, a business run by someone called Crystal Willow. Her name had cropped up before; Crystal was the older sister of Vicky, and the mother of Rowena. The website had a picture of her: an attractive, frizzy-haired fortyish woman of substantial build, wearing lots of jewellery and shrouded in a floaty dress. Very much New Age. The business address was just three doors down from where Gillard had parked.