‘Nicky. DS Collins. She was chasing up a lead and now she’s gone. So spare me the rollicking for the time being, would you? I’m here because I need your help.’

Burton listened as Fleet told him what he knew – which, in terms of the past twenty-four hours, was frustratingly little. The last time Fleet had seen or spoken to Nicky had been in his office, just before he’d headed out to Beaconsfield. He’d left Nicky to her own devices, confident that if anyone could track down Melissa Haynes, she could.

‘And she clearly found something, Roger. I’ve been trying to get in touch with her since late yesterday afternoon. I even swung by her flat first thing this morning, but she wasn’t home. None of her neighbours have seen her since she left for work yesterday morning.’

‘What about her boyfriend’s place? Did you try—’

‘She doesn’t have a boyfriend. I called her dad, but he hasn’t heard from her either. And before you ask, there’s not a chance in hell she’d be at her mum’s, and she doesn’t have any other family that I know of.’

The superintendent’s frown set deeper.

‘She would never just go off-grid like this,’ Fleet insisted, as he paced in front of Burton’s desk. ‘She’d call, or text, or find some other way to let me know what she was doing.’

‘Unless she wasn’t able to,’ Burton countered. ‘You said she was following up on a lead. So maybe she had to go off-grid in order to—’

‘Roger, please,’ said Fleet, turning. He’d already been over every scenario he could think of in his head, and there was simply no explanation as to why Nicky would have failed to check in that didn’t involve her being in some sort of trouble. ‘You know me, and I know Nicky,’ he told Burton. ‘And we both know I wouldn’t be in here if I wasn’t one hundred per cent convinced that something was wrong.’

Burton’s expression tightened a fraction. ‘You mean you have a feeling,’ he said disparagingly. Fleet was well aware that the superintendent wasn’t one to indulge his subordinates when it came to judgements that weren’t based on stone-hard facts. Fleet’s theory was that it was because Burton had never really had an instinct for the job himself. The real job, that is. When it came to politics and back-room manoeuvring, Burton’s instincts were as honed as his squash-court backhand.

‘The reality is, DS Collins has been out of contact for less than a day,’ Burton said. ‘Her day off, I’m guessing. You do realise it’s the weekend, don’t you? Is DS Collins even scheduled to be working today?’