It wasn’t long before some uniformed officers arrived with a large riot shield which they used as a makeshift stretcher to take Durham to the hospital. Jane instructed one of them to remain at the hospital with Durham as he was a suspect for abduction and murder. She gave another officer Nick Durham’s home phone number and asked him to get the duty sergeant to tell him about his father’s heart attack.

Jane used Durham’s phone to call Stanley and told him what had happened.

‘Bloody hell. How bad is he?’ Stanley asked.

‘Not good. But Boon and I resuscitated him. And he was breathing with a slow pulse when the uniformed officers took him away. I’ve asked that the duty sergeant contact Nick Durham.’

‘So it looks like Becky was in Durham’s house, then,’ Stanley said.

‘It looks like he killed her in the crypt,’ Jane said. ‘Her body might be in the old tunnel, so I’m going to knock the wall down.’

‘Do it,’ Stanley said.

‘And if she isn’t, I’m going to keep searching,’ Jane replied.

‘Don’t exhaust yourself. Take a rest if you need one. Salmon wants a briefing with the team tomorrow morning at nine.’

‘Did you tell him about the search warrant?’ Jane asked.

‘Yes, he was pissed off that I didn’t ask him first. I reminded him that he buggered off to the Yard and left me in charge.’

‘Are you going to update him?’

‘No. He’s spent most of his career behind a desk in planning and development. He scurries off when you confront him with a difficult situation because he doesn’t know what to do.’

‘Let’s hope he stays that way,’ Jane remarked.

‘I’d best let you get on. I’m not going anywhere, so keep me updated.’

As Jane put the phone down, Lloyd approached her.

‘I examined the stairwell rope. There are traces of blood going up it on the underside. Someone with a bloody hand used it to support themselves as they climbed the stairs. It’s possible Durham carried Becky’s body upstairs and put it in a car to bury her elsewhere.’

‘I’m still going to knock that wall down. You any good with a sledgehammer?’

‘I always hit the high striker bell at the funfair,’ Lloyd grinned.

It didn’t take long to knock a hole in the wall and search the tunnel, but there was no sign of Becky.

‘DS Tennison . . . I’ve found something of interest in one of the wheelie bins,’ the dog handler shouted from the top of the stairs.

Jane and Lloyd followed him to a dimly lit wooden hut at the far end of the parking area. Inside were four large metal wheelie bins, one of which was on its side with the contents strewn across the floor. To one side, placed neatly on police exhibits bags was a bleach bottle.