‘We need to start door-knocking as well. When will Sergeant Kelly be here?’ Jake looked up at Murphy.

‘Said he had to check out a report of gunshots. Place is on the other side of Dunton. He’ll be a while.’

Jake stood a little taller. ‘Right then. Apart from some large building over there that the Taylors mentioned’—Jake waved a hand vaguely south—‘any other houses round here? Or permanent camps?’

Murphy narrowed his eyes in thought. ‘They’d have meant the old Campbell place on the other side of this paddock and up the vineyard. Next nearest place after that’s about half a click past it.’

‘That makes it easy. Let’s go.’

*

A derelict orchard and a smattering of disinterested sable cows later, Jake and Murphy reached the far fence of the paddock. They could hear multiple search teams calling ‘Jamie’, insistent but unanswered.

‘So, Evelyn Kelly, she’s …?’

‘The boss’s daughter. She mostly helps out when there’s women or kids involved.’

They clambered through the crumbling barrier, careful to avoid a rusty barbed-wire strand at the top, and found themselves at one end of a row of wizened vines. Murphy’s longer legs were a distinct advantage.

Jake could see other rows to his left and right receding into the fog. ‘How big’s the vineyard?’

Murphy shrugged. ’Four, maybe five acres? But it’s wider than it is deep. The manor house is at the top of this slope,’ he said, gesturing uphill along the rows of vines. ‘Normally you’d be able to see it from here.’

The long, straight paths between the vines looked like they would be enticing to a particular type of kid. ‘Think our missing boy might have gone for a run up here?’

‘I would’ve when I was his age.’ Murphy pointed to his right. ‘I’ll go up that one. See you at the top.’

Jake walked a few rows to his left then turned into one to pace up the gentle slope calling for Jamie. Distant swearing wafted across the estate—Murphy had apparently found a puddle, no doubt sullying his perfectly creased trousers.

After slipping in a patch of brown sticky clay himself, Jake began to second-guess his decision to walk rather than drive to the manor. But after another fifty metres or so a hint of regularly spaced indentations in the leaf litter caught his eye. He crouched to inspect them. From a certain angle, they could be tracks left by a small, running child.

If Jamie had passed this way, perhaps they would find him at the top exploring the house grounds, oblivious to the trouble he had caused …

What was that? Jake froze, straining to hear.

A hint, the tiniest sigh of exhalation.

Jake rose silently then padded forward, edging toward the minute sound. It became more definite … a gasp, then nothing.

Someone was holding their breath.

Jake continued to sneak along the row, carefully avoiding the unkempt branches that snatched at him. One particularly gnarled vine seemed to contain a void, a darkened space formed by concave boughs. A hint of orange peaked from the hollow. The toe of a sneaker?