‘I’m rather looking forward to it, actually. Strange adolescents are my current pet subject.’ Issy smiled.

Jazz’s mobile rang. ‘Hunter here.’

‘It’s Roland, Ma’am. Got some bad news, I’m afraid.’ He sounded nervous.

‘What?’

‘My sarge says Millar’s gone AWOL.’

‘Shit!’ Jazz muttered under her breath. ‘How? Where?’

‘They’re not sure. They were stationed across the road from his cottage, saw no one come in or out all night. At eight forty this morning, the postman arrived with a package for Millar, but had no joy getting an answer. Obviously my sarge was suspicious, went to check and found the back door unlocked and the house empty. Sorry, Ma’am, but you did ask us to maintain a discreet distance.’

‘Right. We’d better find him then.’

‘I’m on my way to his cottage now. And I’ll send an alert out around the county. I’m sure we’ll pick him up.’

‘I hope so, Detective Sergeant Roland. Get back to me as soon as there’s news. Oh, and have someone stationed outside Mrs Millar’s house until he’s found. Thanks.’

Jazz turned to Issy. ‘I presume you got the gist of that conversation?’

‘I did. Don’t panic, Jazz. I’d reckon it was alcohol’s siren call – poor bloke probably just wanted a drink and the cupboard was bare. Shouldn’t think he’s gone far.’

‘I just hope you’re right,’ Jazz said grimly as she headed for the door. ‘But I wasn’t expecting it. And not a word to Angelina about her ex absconding, current whereabouts unknown. She’ll have apoplexy, as will that arrogant lawyer boyfriend of hers.’

‘Of course. Can I tell her about David being released? I’d like to see the reaction.’

‘If you must. I’ll see you later.’

Jazz climbed into her car to drive across to the school. She was still fuming with Issy. And concerned about Millar’s disappearance. Last night’s encounter, and the call from Roland, had rattled her frail confidence. To lose a suspect was one thing, to lose a suspect who’d already confessed to a murder and been released without charge was another.

What if she’d been wrong about him?

‘Shit, shit!’ Jazz thumped the steering wheel as she waited to turn right at the roundabout. Her thoughts turned to her time in Italy, when there was little more to think about other than which particular cafe she should wander down to in the evenings for a plate of delicious penne.

What the hell was she doing here?

But logically, Jazz knew she couldn’t have run forever. Issy was right in the sense that she’d needed to come home to confront her past.

Jazz moved off the roundabout, comforting herself with the thought that she’d walked away before; she could walk away again.

The bright day had clouded over and more snow was threatening. The Met Office had issued a severe weather warning for the whole of the eastern region. Jazz made the decision that tonight she would stay with Miles at his hotel in town. Being snowed in at the cottage with no heating or electricity was not a sensible idea.