Randy had clearly been reading up. The fact that Ben Draper had been playing hide-and-seek when he’d gone missing was the detail the newspapers had fixated on at the time. It had made good copy and attention-grabbing headlines, at least until interest in the story faded. The problem, as far as the papers were concerned, was that there was no dead body, and no evidence of foul play. In fact, there was very little evidence full stop, which is why the investigation had stalled as well. In the end, it was assumed that Ben had simply run away. He was a troubled kid, with a troubled background and a history of absconding from school. And when it came down to it, he was a nobody. His family was only moderately wealthy – at least by Beaconsfield standards – so that made them only moderately interesting. Perhaps if the names of his friends had leaked, interest would have revived later, as Callum Richardson began to make headlines of his own. But after Ben’s disappearance, the school had acted quickly to dampen speculation, and also to shield its other pupils from external interest.

‘Callum Richardson was one of Ben’s friends,’ Fleet told Randy. ‘One of his only friends, by all accounts. As far as we know, Callum and two others were the last ones to see Ben alive. And that’s all you’re getting, Randy. As you say, you can read about the rest in the morning. I’m sure the newspapers will have plenty of titbits for you, some of which may even be true.’

Randy smiled. ‘Callum Richardson,’ he repeated, tasting the name as though he were swilling the first sip of one of his wines. ‘My, my. That is a juicy morsel. It’s no wonder the PCC is so interested. If it’s true Richardson is making a move into politics, it’s possible he’ll end up being the PCC’s boss one day.’ He looked at Fleet. ‘Meaning he’ll also be yours.’

‘Ben Draper,’ said Fleet, straightening. ‘Talk to me about Ben Draper. A deal’s a deal, Randy.’

Randy inclined his head. ‘Indeed it is. And I’ll do more than talk to you. I’ll show you.’

Fleet’s first thought when he saw Ben’s remains laid out on the pathologist’s table was that the skeleton looked bigger than when he’d seen it in situ. In the crypt, the boy’s body had been curled up. The presence of the sack that had evidently been covering him suggested he’d been arranged that way, but Fleet hadn’t been able to stop himself imagining the boy lying whimpering on the ground, hugging his knees to his stomach while he listened to the footsteps of his approaching fate.