‘A package for me?’ Kate murmured into the phone.

‘Delivery driver says it’s addressed to you specifically, care of this address,’ the constable on the front desk replied. ‘You want me to send it back?’

Kate nodded towards Patel who had just arrived in the incident room wrapped in a thick grey coat and dark scarf. He mimed the action for a drink and she thrust her thumb into the air. Although she’d already had two cups since she’d arrived just after six, she had a feeling it was going to be another long day.

‘Who’s it from?’

‘There’s no card with it. You want me to open it?’

Kate sighed, annoyed by the interruption. ‘No, I’ll come down. Tell the driver to wait.’

Kate hung up the phone, and made her way across to Patel.

‘You’re in early, ma’am,’ he commented as the coffee machine whirred to life.

‘Couldn’t sleep,’ she lied. ‘I wanted to have another look at the statements we took from Daisy’s teachers. I have a feeling there’s something we’re missing, but I can’t put my finger on what.’ She thanked him as he handed her over her mug. ‘Be honest, Patel, do you think I’m wrong in treating this as just a runaway case? Do you think something bad may have happened to Daisy?’

He considered her for a moment. ‘You’re the one always telling us not to accept everything at face value and to explore every investigative lead. Humberidge is a pessimist, but there’s some truth in his point worth exploring.’

‘You think Val or Barry Emerson has killed her?’

‘No… well, not necessarily them. But it just strikes me as odd that nobody has seen her since she left Georgie Barclay’s house.’

‘What about Alfie Caplan?’

‘Honestly? No, I don’t think he has it in him, but then nothing would surprise me these days.’

‘If not the boyfriend, the best friend? Could Georgie Barclay be lying about when Daisy left her house?’

‘We only have Georgie’s word for it. Daisy was supposedly there from 6 p.m., but what if she didn’t stay long, what if she didn’t stay at all? Perhaps we should expand the current time window.’

‘But her mobile phone signal has her in Abbotts Way until twenty past nine.’

‘Maybe she left it with Georgie to throw us off the scent.’

Kate wasn’t convinced. ‘Doesn’t explain why nobody’s seen or heard from her since.’

‘True.’ Patel paused to sip his coffee. ‘Back when I was just starting as a DC here, there was an incident where a teenage girl was grabbed on her way home from a pub. Not far from where Daisy was last seen, actually. We managed to trace the guilty party back then, and I’m not suggesting the same person is involved, but maybe an opportunist predator driving around saw her and attacked?’

‘Would you mind following up on that for me? Check the open Missing Persons database and look for profiles similar to Daisy’s: young and vulnerable.’

She headed for the door.

‘You want me to prepare for the morning’s brief?’

‘I’ll do it in a minute when I’m back.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘There’s a package for me at the front desk, apparently.’

‘Secret admirer?’

She grinned. ‘Who knows? Let everyone know to wait for my return before getting on with their assignments.’

---

Kate hurried down the corridor, ignoring the lift and taking the stairs down to the ground floor. The constable she’d spoken to moments before buzzed her through to where the delivery driver was standing, bearing a brown cardboard box, big enough to hold something like a motorcycle helmet.

‘I’m Kate Matthews,’ she said, showing him her identification.

The guy looked barely old enough to drive, his cheeks brimming with acne and a wispy beard looking like a chin strap. ‘I was supposed to deliver it yesterday, but my van broke down. Better late than never, huh?’ He held the box out for her. ‘I’ll need you to sign for it.’

She rested the brown box on the counter and signed her name on the driver’s digital pad. She watched him leave the building, climb into his van and drive away, before lifting the box and giving it a little shake.

It didn’t weigh a lot, and whatever was inside rolled slightly as she moved it from side to side, and gave off a floral, fruity smell.

She smiled to herself. It had to be a gift from Ben. ‘Can you pass me some scissors?’ she asked the desk constable.

He did, and she cut through the parcel tape sealing the flaps of the box. She found a second box inside, this one wrapped in colourful wrapping paper: white with little pink hearts in glitter. Some of the glitter fell from the paper as she rested the second box on the desk.

‘Someone has a secret admirer,’ the desk constable teased. ‘Is there a card?’

Oh Ben. The romantic fool didn’t know what kind of trouble such a gesture could get her in. She did the maths in her mind, working backwards to try and calculate whether she’d missed a significant anniversary since they’d started dating, but came up with nothing.

Kate turned the box over in her hands. ‘Doesn’t look like it, but I think I know who it’s from.’ Reaching for the scissors again, she carefully cut through the Sellotape sealing the wrapping paper and slid out an old cardboard box which had once been used to hold packets of printing paper. The sickly-sweet scent of flowers and strawberries grew nauseating as she slowly began to lift the lid, the first tinge of dread trickling through her. She looked inside and dropped the box in horror.