She hoped this would be the message that would finally puncture his bubble of self-pity. That’s what it would be too – he was somewhere right now feeling sorry for himself. She knew him well enough. So far she had only left messages asking him to ring her back urgently, thinking that would be enough, that he would panic and think it was bad news about Callie. The whole time, they had both been so resigned that any news would be bad news. She didn’t want to leave a message like that on his answerphone. She wanted him here, she wanted him to see for himself, she wanted to see his face when he realised that their daughter was coming back to them.

He was going to be so happy.

The sudden vibration to Danny Evans’s mobile phone caused it to slide down the smooth surface of the seat. The phone was still face down, how it had landed after it had been discarded. It had been ringing at the time and the distraction had been unwelcome.

Now the name Sharon was projected on to the black plastic. The angry vibration filled the empty interior for just a few seconds more and then the phone listed it with all the other missed calls.

The screen flashed again, a beep accompanying it to warn of a critical level in the battery. Then the screen went dark.

Chapter 26

The building was L-shaped and the entrance was tucked away where one stretch of windows formed an angle with another. Richard was out on foot and stopped five metres from the double doors to check for signs of life. There were none. Then he looked back over to where his car was silent in the car park. It was the only one. The weather had turned. It was still cold but now it teemed with light rain to give the site a darker coat of grey.

The office block was on the outskirts of an industrial estate in a small village called Tilmanstone. Richard’s home of Dover was probably still the closest town but it was six miles or more away. The scenery on his approach was rural, then the trees and fields had given way to reveal the building and its grounds. He had checked the postcode was correct twice and turned away once. But curiosity had brought him back. He had accessed the car park through a farm-style steel gate that was already pushed open to leave a swooping scar on the tarmac. The tarmac itself was spotted with weeds that had found a weakness and pushed for the light.

The site and the building were dilapidated and disused. The lettering for a previous occupant had been removed but the brickwork still bore its stain: ‘Fennell Engineering’. This company name had also appeared on a plaque atop a lopsided post that announced the parking bay he had used as Reserved – Managing Director.