She grabbed her mobile and pulled up Jess’s number. Paul and Brian were talking to George in the next room, pressing him about the analysis of Freya’s phone records. Steph tried to tune in to their conversation as her phone rang in her other ear. Her thoughts flickered again to what she’d learned yesterday about Paul. It had been elbowed aside by the discovery of the photo strip, but it still pulsed at the back of her head.

“Steph?” Jess answered, sounding breathless, hopeful.

“Can you do something for me?” Steph dived straight in.

“ ’Course.” Jess’s voice faded a little as she seemed to realize this wasn’t the ecstatic we’ve-found-her-safe-and-well call.

“See whether Freya’s friends with anyone called Zeb on her social media accounts?”

“Zeb?”

“Have you heard of him?”

“I would’ve remembered. Does he go to our school?”

“No, he went to art college, I think. But now . . . well, I don’t know. He used to live downstairs from us.”

“Hang on . . .” Steph could hear Jess typing, yelling to her dad that she was on the phone, then typing again. To her right Heather was still on the iPad, deftly trying different searches.

Even Gran’s better with that thing than you, Mum, Freya had said, laughing, on one of Heather’s visits.

And why wouldn’t I be? Heather had challenged with a grin.

Steph drew in a breath as Jess came back on the line.

“Frey’s not friends with anyone called that. I’ve just asked a few people on WhatsApp whether they know him. I’ve got some mates at the art and design college up the road. D’you think that’s where he went?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hang on . . .” Jess said again. “DAD, I’M STILL ON THE PHONE! IT’S FREYA’S MUM! GO AWAY!”

Steph suddenly remembered when Jess’s mum and dad had split up, around three years ago, and Jess’s mum had gone to live in Cornwall with her new partner, Freya had come home from school in tears, begging Steph for reassurance that that would never happen to them. And, of course, Steph had sworn that nothing would destroy their family. She wanted to shake that past version of herself, with her hollow promises.

Jess’s voice changed as she said, “Someone’s already replied . . . My friend Lee says he knew a guy called Zeb Brighton at college.”

“Really?” Steph’s foot tapped again. “What does he know about him?”

“Not a lot. He’s friends with him on Facebook but nobody actually uses that anymore. I’ll get Lee to have a look, though. Is he . . . What’s the deal with him?”

“I don’t know that either,” Steph said. “That’s what I need to find out.”

“Okay, Lee’s looking at his profile now . . .”