Fleet sat back in his seat, considering the man in front of him. At the time of Ben’s disappearance, Adrian Harris had been the headmaster of Beaconsfield for two years, which meant he’d now held the role for almost a quarter of a century. Fleet had read the headmaster’s original statement, too, and the only thing he’d taken from it was how desperate Harris had been to safeguard the school from scandal. The headmaster had come across as pompous and defensive, more concerned with the potential ramifications of Ben’s disappearance than with Ben’s well-being – and it seemed that, despite the years that had passed, very little had changed.

‘I appreciate the state of affairs is inconvenient for you, Mr Harris. There is very little I can do about the press, but for our part we will do our best to get out of your way as soon as possible. In the meantime, is there anything else you can tell us about Ben? Anything that might have perhaps come back to you over the intervening period that you’ve found yourself dwelling on, or that seems more important than it once did in light of the things we now know?’

Harris sighed impatiently. ‘As I have told you, Detective Inspector, there is nothing I feel able to add. Perhaps it would be helpful to remind you that at the time of Benjamin’s disappearance, he was one of over six hundred children in my care. And since then, almost two and a half thousand boys and girls have passed through Beaconsfield’s gates. You will understand, therefore, why I may occasionally have been preoccupied with matters other than Benjamin Draper’s whereabouts.’

Pompous and defensive, thought Fleet. Old habits, it seemed, died hard.

‘So until the discovery of Ben’s body,’ he said, ‘you accepted the idea that he’d simply run away?’

‘I was satisfied with the explanation, yes. It also seemed to satisfy your colleagues, you will recall.’ Harris waved a hand, almost dismissively. ‘Benjamin had a history of absconding from school. Even at Beaconsfield, where he slept in the same building in which he had most of his lessons, his attendance record was woeful. When no evidence to the contrary was found, it seemed entirely logical that Benjamin had followed the same pattern of behaviour he had exhibited all of his life.’

‘Forgive me, Mr Harris,’ put in Nicky, ‘but it sounds to me as though you didn’t like Ben very much.’

Was that it, Fleet wondered? Was that part of the reason Harris seemed so indifferent to Ben’s fate, and so focused on the imposition on the school? Did he not consider Ben worthy of all the time and disruption the investigation into his disappearance had already caused?