He pressed a button, and the video projector came to life. It showed footage from the ticket office, a high angle showing the woman buying a ticket. Audio had been recorded from the microphone intercom system.

“Single to Cleethorpes, please.” The woman’s voice was muffled, but it was clear she didn’t have a Sheffield accent.

The officer issued the receipt, but the woman didn’t take it immediately. She turned and shouted for the child, who’d run away into the crowds. Leonie, stop.

Atkinson paused the tape and looked at Jo. “It’s the same name,” they said together.

“That’s confirmation of a link to Gregor Franks. So let’s comb the system. Any child with that first name of the right age, involved in any incident, child protection or not.”

“Worth a shot,” said Atkinson, opening up his laptop.

CHAPTER

20

THEN

Ruby

October

THE NEXT DAY, Gregor didn’t contact her at all. Ruby stared at the blank screen of the new phone and tried not to fret. Yes, she’d pushed him away, cut him off when he was at his most vulnerable. It might have even looked, to him, like an out-and-out rejection. But couldn’t he tell that she would have kissed him if things had been different? Didn’t he understand that it wasn’t him that had set her running, but the fact that to have let it happen would have complicated things too much for both of them? She was sure that he’d gotten the wrong idea, and his silence confirmed it.

Sleeping was a challenge, as the new phone glowed brightly every few seconds so that she kept thinking there was a message. Eventually, to end the madness, she forced herself to turn it off.

The day after that, hope returned. Switching the phone on, she remembered how pleased he’d been when he gave it to her. She was ashamed that she’d felt so ungrateful.

After it had started up, silence. There were no notifications, no messages that had been sent while the phone was off. Clicking on Gregor’s name, the chat box was empty. Last seen at 3:42 AM, read the header. Yoga time.

Before she could think it through too much, she’d typed out a message:

Hi Gregor, how’s things?

The answer came forty-two anxious minutes later, though the app told her that he’d seen the message the second she sent it.

Yes, fine thanks. Busy! Leonie wants to see you, maybe you could come tomorrow? Bring the fiddle?