‘I wasn’t exactly an unwilling party, was I?’ Sam attempted a laugh. ‘And thank God we came. That poor woman could have lain there for ever.’ He looked around. ‘I wonder where the hell he went?’

‘I heard a car start. I suppose he’s driven off somewhere,’ Laura said.

‘The police will soon get him,’ said Sam.

Laura wasn’t so confident but didn’t have the energy to say so. She was fighting off an overwhelming desire to sleep. She leaned against Sam, hoping she wasn’t hurting his arm. ‘Rowan isn’t going to be too pleased with me, is he?’

‘Or me,’ said Sam bitterly. ‘I’m supposed to be looking out for you.’

‘What do you mean?’

Sam looked guilty. ‘Okay, I’m going to throw up my hands. Jackman had bad vibes about your patient, that’s why I’m here. And before you object, he was absolutely right, so no having a go at him. He loves you. He was worried about you.’

But Laura was beginning to drift.

‘Laura! No sleeping. You’ve got a concussion, so you must stay awake.’

Then she heard the two-tones, and all at once the house was surrounded by police cars, their blue lights flashing. ‘So much for the quiet approach I requested,’ she muttered. Not that it mattered any more. Shields was long gone. But where?

Laura succumbed to sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Jackman and Marie returned to the interview room and sat down. Jackman apologised for their abrupt departure. Though he didn’t say so, he hoped it had given Andy Forman time to assimilate what they’d told him about his friend.

‘I thought about it while you were out,’ he said. ‘And to be honest, the last time I spoke to him — which was months ago now — Jordan sounded different. I’d never heard him speak like that before. He sounded cold, businesslike, as though he hardly knew me. Maybe the Jordan I knew died along with his boy.’

‘Do you have his address?’ asked Marie.

‘Only his old one, but he’s not there. I rang him several times and then I went round. No one answered the door. I looked through the windows. Some of his stuff was still there, but a lot was gone, and there was a load of boxes stacked up. I spoke to the bloke in the flat above, and he said he hadn’t seen him in weeks.’

‘Where was this?’ asked Jackman.

‘Cartoft village. It’s a small ground-floor flat, part of Cartoft Manor. In what used to be the stable block.’

‘That’s his old home village,’ said Jackman thoughtfully. ‘Of course! The red rose on the gravestone. The child isn’t buried there, but it’s his family grave, and that’s where he goes to grieve. “My heart has never stopped crying for you.” That’s what the card said. He’d written it for his boy.’