Even Geoffrey Winbush’s statement only told them that Louise had been on the Woodham Road. Surely someone else must have seen her? She was a good-looking girl, dressed in a purple and gold tracksuit and man’s flying jacket. She would not be easy to miss. Eight hundred youngsters had been at that rave. Someone must have noticed her.

Kate stared back at the files in front of her.

The people who owned dark-coloured Orions were still being interviewed. Nothing yet. There were only a few names left on the list from the DVLC. Maybe the man had lived in Grantley at one time and now lived somewhere else? That idea had occurred to her before now, but a gut feeling told her that he was still living locally. And if he was, the best way to catch him was through blood testing. Back to square one.

Her phone rang and she picked it up.

‘Hello. DI Kate Burrows here.’

‘Hello, Kate.’

She felt her heart miss a beat. It was Patrick Kelly. ‘Are we still on for tonight?’

‘Oh, yes, of course. I can’t promise what time I’ll be there, I’ll have to ring you as I’m leaving work. We’re pretty snowed under . . .’

‘Nothing yet then?’ His voice was flat.

‘No, nothing concrete.’

‘I’ll see you later then. ’Bye.’

‘’Bye.’ Kate replaced the receiver and smiled. She was getting to like Patrick Kelly. Getting to like him a lot. Yet the sensible part of her was telling her to grow up. She was a policewoman and he was a . . .

He was a what?

He was a nice man, that’s what he was, and when she left this station her life was her own!

She picked up the file and began to read again. She was being paid to find this murderer, and find him she would!

Charlie Miller came in from work at six fifteen. The house was, as usual, in pandemonium by then. All the children were in, and their Irish ancestry made loud arguing the norm. Like most children from big families, they had learnt to outshout one another at an early age. Charlie went straight up to the room that he shared with Terry and put on a Fine Young Cannibals tape. He was in the middle of getting underssed as his brother walked in with the paper.

‘All right, Tel?’

He shook his head and sat on the bottom of the bunk beds.

‘No, actually, I ain’t.’

Charlie frowned and stopped in the middle of taking off his shirt. Terry did look bad. He sat beside him.

‘What’s the matter, bruv? You got aggravation?’ His voice was low. Even though there was only a year between the two boys, Charlie looked on Terry as his little brother.

‘It’s about that bird who went missing . . . Louise Butler. Look.’

He opened the paper and Charlie glanced at it. Terry watched his brother’s face.