Adrian rushed out of the room. Finally, a break in the case. It was horrible to think of unclaimed victims, that somewhere out there their unsuspecting family members were just carrying on with their lives. Simon Glover was the first real name they had. Even though Adrian wasn’t relishing telling his sister the news of her brother’s passing, it was worse when you couldn’t find the family to notify them. Now that they had somewhere to start, it was only a matter of time before they got the whole picture, a matter of time before they found the woman again and made sure she was safe.

Chapter Eighteen

Fiona Merton lived in a modest bungalow at the top end of a shallow hill in Bridport, Dorset. The low-level buildings allowed the vista of the patchwork hills behind them to be seen in all directions, broken only by the square orange roofs peppered in between. She opened the door as Imogen and Adrian walked up the driveway; they obviously looked like police.

‘Are you here about my brother?’ she said, arms folded as though cold, even though the summer heat was starting to build.

‘I’m DS Imogen Grey and this is my colleague, DS Adrian Miles.’

‘Is this about Simon?’

‘Can we come in?’ Imogen asked.

Fiona Merton walked back inside the house, leaving the door open for them to follow. Inside, it felt like a home that belonged to a much older woman. The curtains were mustard-and-terracotta stripes, very dated, and they looked like they had been there as long as the house. The sofas were large and almost cartoonlike, with a floral chintz in autumnal colours. Fiona Merton was no older than thirty and so Imogen assumed that she must have inherited the property.

‘Well? Where is he? Have you found him?’

‘I’m going to show you a photograph,’ Adrian said, pulling out his phone. ‘I want you to prepare yourself.’

‘Prepare myself for what?’ she said, clutching herself even tighter.

‘We recovered the body of a male who matches your brother’s description and we have reconstructed an image of his face to show you. Maybe you can identify him from it.’

‘Reconstructed? What was wrong with his face?’

‘If you wouldn’t mind taking a look at this. Are you ready?’ Adrian said, avoiding the question.

Fiona nodded and Adrian showed her the clay reconstruction. She looked confused at first, but then her face settled and the tears came.

‘Yes, that’s him, that’s Simon. He’s dead? What happened?’ Fiona said, crying but still somehow composed, cold even.

‘Was Simon in a relationship?’ Imogen said.

‘No. He works a lot; doesn’t have time for a relationship. His time’s divided mostly between the construction site and an evening class. Didn’t want to work on a building site for ever.’

‘What was he studying?’