Joel grinned, and waited long enough for it to catch on. ‘You don’t have to come but I still remember your face the last time I left you out of all the fun.’

‘Fun?’

‘Actually it’s probably nothing to do with our case, more that Hannah left a loose end, and it’s in her notes. A woman called Marilyn Luckhurst. Sharon mentioned her to us earlier. It looks like Hannah was helping her out with issues around domestic violence as an aside from this case. But it was all off-record so now Hannah’s gone there’s no one left to pick that up.’

‘There’s a whole domestic violence unit. You could hand it over to them.’

‘I could … Hannah has three entries in her daybook, three different dates. That’s three separate meetings she took with Marilyn Luckhurst. Hannah really wanted to help this woman.’

‘Marilyn’s daughter is suspected to have been blackmailed too,’ DS Rose said.

‘Emma Luckhurst, fourteen years old. But officially the family have denied she was a victim at all and the meetings don’t seem to have been about Emma. Let’s get going. I’ll pick out the key bits on the way over and read them out. You’ll see what I mean. We’re probably just going to end up with a referral to the DV unit but …’

‘But Hannah wanted to help this woman,’ DS Rose said.

‘She did. It’s a quick conversation to make Marilyn Luckhurst aware that DC Ribbons can’t help her anymore, but that doesn’t mean she’s alone.’ Joel started to move out of the office but stopped when his sergeant actually appeared to be smiling. ‘What?’

‘Hannah … She would be delighted. Which means I am too.’

Joel looked beyond her at the board. ‘It’s no skin off our nose really. Tomorrow morning is what matters.’ He fixed on the name written out and underlined. ‘Christopher Hennershaw, you piece of shit, we’re coming for you first thing. And Hannah Ribbons sent us.’

Chapter 47

Crabble Hill linked the town of Dover to the hamlet of River and was crammed tight in every sense of the word. From the houses that were firmly pushed together into a terraced row of sandy-brown to the parked cars that were a testament to the parking ability of the locals. Even the traffic that streamed past was bunched together, enough that it pushed them past the Luckhurst address and round a corner to be faced with a huge railway bridge looming large above them. It held Joel’s attention but DS Rose slowed to make a tight left turn. Joel saw a faded sign labelled ‘The Phoenix Railway Club’ pass by his window. The drive was long and bumpy with stones that crunched and pinged out from under the tyres, seemingly leading them along the back of the houses they had just passed.