Harper stuck a silhouette of a woman’s face next to the picture of the woman at the train station. It was a drawing, meant to represent the woman they didn’t have an image of yet. It had a white question mark in the center.

“Two different women, one name: Constance. I want to know, firstly, what happened to this one, the one who had the child first of all. And secondly”—she pointed to the silhouette—“who is this one, what does she look like, and where is she now? She was the one last seen with the child, and therefore she’s the one we need to track as a priority. Any update on the media shout-out? Any leads?”

Clive said, “We haven’t had any useful calls from the public yet after the news bulletin. Maybe we should do another one.”

A young man knocked and was waved into the room. Dressed in civvies, tall and lanky, he looked like a member of the tech department, which was exactly what he was. “Jo?”

“Yes, Eddie?”

“We found her. The second one.”

“Good work,” said Harper. “From the Cleethorpes station cameras?”

“Yes. We loaded Leonie’s face into the software, and it pinged straight away. She might have told the Social that she was going back to Sheffield, but from the time code on the ticket office camera, you can see that she actually bought a ticket to Edinburgh.”

She’s running, thought Joanna, and held out her hand for the A4 printout. When she looked at the photo, she immediately wanted to throw up. She tried not to react outwardly in any way, not in front of all these officers.

“I have a bigger image with more detail,” said Eddie. “This one is a close-up of the face, but in the wider image she’s waiting on the station platform, holding the child.”

“I think I need to see that one, if you don’t mind.” Even Joanna could tell that her voice was uncharacteristically soft.

Eddie said, “Sure, not a problem. Give me a few minutes.” He left the room.

How can it be her? thought Jo as she turned slowly toward the whiteboard, still holding the image in both hands. It didn’t make any sense.

Someone cleared their throat, and she realized she hadn’t said anything for a weirdly long time.

“Um,” she said, “this is our second person of interest. So.” She pinned the image up and took down the question-mark silhouette. As she faced the room, thirty inquisitive pairs of eyes studied her, every one trained to spot a liar. Joanna rubbed her palms together uncertainly. What did she just do? Why didn’t she say anything? It wasn’t if she could keep the truth from them forever. She needed to tell them. Now.

“That’s it for now, folks. Get to work.”