She had been fretting about every detail of this for days. The stress had been making her ill. But the plan she had been so dubious about had worked far more easily than she’d anticipated. She had seen him at the bus stop, and when she stopped the car he accepted the explanation that she had given him: that there had been a change of plan to keep him safe, and she was to give him a lift. The fact that he recognised her undoubtedly helped; she had met him briefly once before, when he was first moved to Spring Hill, and of course her probation service ID card and lanyard proved that she could be trusted. The thing she had fretted about most was the mobile phone, but he had handed it over immediately when she asked, claiming he didn’t even know how to use it.

Trust. She permitted herself a small grin of satisfaction at having turned the tables. Rollason had himself enticed teenage boys into his car with a computer games console, and had doctored alcohol. She had lured him with the promise of safety.

Despite the flunitrazepam she’d dropped in his drink on the way back from the bar into the garden, and the liquid GHB in the handkerchief, there was a possibility he might wake during the journey. He’d have to be kept quiet. She stuffed his mouth with a rag, and gaffer-taped it closed, encircling his head three times. She was supposed to bring him in alive, but if Rollason came round and threw up before she delivered him, then he would drown in his own vomit.

Tough. She just hoped he wouldn’t make a mess in her boot while doing it.

He was going to die anyway. But that wasn’t her department and she didn’t want to know any details. She turned Rollason’s phone on and checked for messages. There were three, all left in the last hour by Leticia, asking where he was. She turned it off and dropped it into her bag. Now she had to make a delivery. That’s when her involvement ended. She hoped it would finally be enough, and this thirty-four-year agony would be over.

Chapter Twenty-four

Wednesday morning