‘The suspect entered the house about twenty minutes ago, and we haven’t seen him come out again.’

‘What about a rear exit?’

‘He’d have to go over the garden wall, sir. But there’s a unit in the back alley, just in case.’

‘Good. Remember, this individual could be armed, so no one goes near him without a vest on. Understood? Just stay out of the way and let the arrest team deal with him.’

‘Understood.’

‘Here’s the van now,’ said Diane Fry, as a police Transit pulled into the end of the street and officers in bulletproof vests deployed from the rear doors.

In a few more minutes, the scene would be contained, and ready for the execution of a safe and uneventful arrest. With Ian Todd removed from the scene, they could bring in the SOCOs and search teams. But would Sandra Birley still be alive somewhere?

It was more than sixty hours since Sandra had been taken from the multi-storey car park. Two days and three nights – more than enough for her abductor to carry out whatever he had in mind. Although his supervisor at Peak Mutual confirmed that Todd had been working as normal during those two days, his job involved spending several hours on the road each day, visiting clients across North Derbyshire.

In any case, the nights had been entirely free for him to pursue his activities. He was unmarried and lived alone, so there was no one at home demanding an account of his whereabouts, or to question the condition of his car or his clothing. He could have taken his victim anywhere during that first night, before she was even reported missing. She could be at the other end of the country.

But Fry didn’t think that was the case. She thought Sandra Birley would be found within a few miles of Edendale, in a six-mile radius of Wardlow. Ian Todd had been ideally placed to make the phone calls. He had been on the road in his light green Vauxhall Vectra when both those calls had been made.

That Vectra stood on the drive of number 28 now. Shortly, it would become a crime scene and Forensics could give it a going-over.

Then the radio crackled back into life.

‘He’s out of the house, sir, going for the car. He must have seen us.’

‘Who the hell blew it?’ shouted Hitchens. ‘Never mind – get moving. Block him in and we’ll take him now, before he gets his vehicle on to the street.’

The unmarked car started up and pulled away from the kerb with a squeal of tyres. The surveillance team were only yards from the driveway of number 28 and within seconds they had blocked Ian Todd’s exit. He looked up and saw them coming just as he reached his Vectra and thumbed the remote on his keyfob.