‘This time I’m playing the long game. Those interviews weren’t a waste: we’ve narrowed it down. Joanne, Alison, Selena, Julia as an outside chance. It’s a start. Yeah, maybe we’d’ve got farther if I’d started pushing them. I can’t afford to chance it.’

One more snap at Joanne, and there it would’ve been: Daddy’s phone call, O’Kelly’s excuse, both of our arse-kick out of the door.

I felt Conway think it too. Didn’t want her thanking me. Not that she probably would have, but just in case:

I said, ‘Rebecca’s changed, since you were here last. Yeah?’

‘You mean I steered you wrong.’

‘I mean with all of Joanne’s lot, what you told me was bang on. With Rebecca, it was out of date.’

‘No shit. Last time, Rebecca could hardly open her mouth. Acted like she’d be happy to curl up and die, if that’d make us leave her alone. Teachers said she was like that, just shyness, she’d outgrow it.’

‘She’s outgrown it now, all right.’

‘Yeah. She’s got better-looking – just bones and braces, last year, looked about ten; now she’s starting to come into herself. That could’ve upped her confidence.’

I nodded at the school. ‘How about the rest of that lot? Have they changed?’

Conway glanced at me. ‘Why? You figure whoever knows something, it’s gonna show?’

This whole chat, this was a test; same as the interviews, same as the search. Half of working a case together is this, table-tennising it. If that clicks, you’re golden. The best partners tossing a case around sound like two halves of the same mind. Not that I was aiming that high here – smart money said no one had ever partnered like that with Conway, even if anyone had wanted to – but the click: if that wasn’t there, I was going home.

I said, ‘They’re kids. They’re not tough. You think they could live with that for a year, like it was nothing?’

‘Maybe, maybe not. Kids, if they can’t cope with something, they’ll file it away, act like it never existed. And even if they’ve changed, so what? This age, they’re changing anyway.’

I said, ‘Have they?’

She chewed and thought. ‘Heffernan’s gang, nah. Just more of the same old. Even bitchier, even more alike. Thick blond geebag, slutty blond geebag, nervy blond geebag, geebaggy blond geebag, end of story. And the three lapdogs, they’re even scareder of Heffernan than they were.’

‘We said before: someone was scared, or she wouldn’t be messing about with postcards.’