He wasn’t sure what to do now; things were coming to a head and he felt a little bit hot under the collar. It was only a matter of hours before the police came looking for him. He was sure of it. Driving back towards his house, he realised that it was now or never. He had to kill Waite, put him in the drum full of acid, then get the hell out of town. There was no way he was making it easy for Lucy and letting her catch him; he’d decided that he liked his freedom far too much. He wasn’t cut out to live a life behind bars, having to look over his shoulder every minute of every day, afraid to bend over every time he needed a shower. No way, it wasn’t happening.

He wasn’t going to kill himself, either; that wasn’t even a possibility. There was no way he would end his own life. His back-up plan was to get as far away from here as possible and leave them all running around wondering what on earth had just happened. It didn’t matter if they searched the country far and wide for him; he had a place to go and a false identity all ready. He would shave his hair, use the coloured contact lenses he bought ages ago, and dress down. He parked on the street and walked up his drive; he didn’t want to alert the druggie that he was home. That was if he hadn’t already done a runner and stolen what little he had out on show. Somehow he didn’t think that he would have left, though; it was far too comfortable in his house with its hot running water, plentiful food and alcohol.

He let himself in and kicked off his shoes – he needed to change. He couldn’t kill in this suit; it wouldn’t allow him any room for movement. He went upstairs where he listened at the guest room door; the television was on and MTV was playing. This was a good sign. Going into the spare room where he kept the clothes for all his murders, he began to get changed. The carpet in here was relatively new so he had thought twice about ripping it out and going back to bare floorboards, as he’d done for the rest of the house.

Once he had on his tight Lycra running leggings and top, he went downstairs to the garage, lifting the door open so the fumes wouldn’t overpower him. Stepping into a pair of protective overalls, he tied a scarf around his mouth and nose. Then, pulling on a pair of heavy-duty gloves, he tugged the lid off the drum. He unscrewed the lid of the plastic container of acid, picked it up and carefully tipped it over the edge of the drum. It began to glug as he poured it slowly into the metal container. He looked at the stack of plastic acid containers lined up behind him – this wasn’t what he’d expected to do but he had little choice now. His hand had been forced; he had to have it all ready.

* * *

Lucy placed the mug of sweet tea in front of Jenny’s dad, Malcolm, who’d insisted that she call him Mal. She sat back down and waited for him to take a few sips before continuing with her questions. There was no rush; her phone hadn’t rung or beeped with any messages from Mattie or Browning. For now they were safe, sitting tight watching Toby’s house.

‘Can you tell me about Jenny’s last movements on that day, before you reported her missing, Mal?’

He nodded. ‘It was a hot summer – she’d spent the last few days hanging around with her brother Jake and his friend who had a large paddling pool. I’ve no doubt about it that she probably drove the pair of them mad, but Jake was a good lad. I told him he had to look out for her and he did.’

She smiled at him, encouraging him to continue.

‘She went to the shop. I can’t even remember what it was for. Probably a ten-pence bag – she would eat sweets all day and night if you let her.’

‘Did anyone speak to her at the shop? Do you know whom the police spoke to afterwards?’

‘Well, there was the shopkeeper, Bill. He said he served her and that she didn’t say much to him except for please and thank you. Her manners were always impeccable. She also had a brief conversation with Jake’s friend. Then she left and went to the woods. Nobody saw her ever again.’

His body began to shake as he let out a loud sob.

Alarm bells were ringing in Lucy’s head. To her mind, there were three suspects, possibly two. She’d read the original report. Malcolm had been called home from work when Jenny hadn’t turned up for her tea; his alibi was concrete. There were many co-workers who had vouched for him being there until he’d been called into the office by the supervisor. The shopkeeper had also been interviewed, but he hadn’t left the shop all afternoon until his wife came to take over from him at six o’clock. By that time Jenny hadn’t been seen for a couple of hours. So that left Jake and his friend.

‘I’m sorry to have to ask you this, Mal, but what was Jake and Jenny’s relationship like? Did he resent her because you’d told him he had to look out for her?’

Mal shook his head vehemently from side to side.

‘Don’t even go there. He loved his sister and he looked after her because he wanted to. He’d never hurt her. The afternoon she disappeared he was grounded. He never left the house until my wife got worried about Jenny and sent him out to look for her.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t want to upset you. But I had to ask. I still need to talk to him, if you have an address.’

‘Wouldn’t we both. I haven’t spoken to him since the day he went into the woods and hung himself. I just don’t like to think that anyone thinks my son would be capable of such a terrible thing.’

Lucy was shocked. She hadn’t realised his son had committed suicide – how much had this man been through? It was horrendous and so heart-breaking. ‘I’m truly sorry to hear that, Mal. I don’t know what to say.’

‘There’s nothing you can say; it was fifteen years ago. He didn’t take her disappearance very well; he blamed himself. The police didn’t seem overly bothered about finding Jenny. They kept insisting she’d run away because there was no evidence of any foul play. Jake withdrew into himself after it happened. It was me who grounded him that day. Christ, I can’t even remember why – over something or nothing, probably. If anyone should have blamed themself it’s me, and trust me, I did – I still do. It should have been me swinging from the end of that rope, only I’m a coward. I’d never have the guts to do it, despite the days and nights I’ve wanted to. I’d think, what if by some miracle she came back and no one was here? I had to keep going just in case she did. You hear of these awful cases where girls are kidnapped and kept captive for years, then are set free or escape. So I waited and I waited for her to come home, always hoping and praying that she would.’

Lucy’s hand reached across the table and took hold of his trembling one. She squeezed it gently. Jenny Burns was finally coming home after all these years; he’d got his wish. She wondered if the man would finally give up his reason for living now he knew what had happened to his daughter. She gave him a moment before continuing.

‘What about his friend who spoke to her in the shop; what was he like? Did he resent Jenny hanging around with him and Jake?’

Mal laughed. ‘No, I think he was secretly pleased she had to hang around with them. She was a pretty girl and beginning to develop, if you know what I mean. I’d see him watching her and a couple of times I was about to clip his ear, when he’d catch himself and realise I’d clocked him.’

‘Can you remember his name? All it says in the report is “brother’s friend from a few doors down spoken to”.’

‘We only ever called him by his nickname, Paddy. I think he was called Patrick. Patrick Baker. My memory isn’t what it used to be… it’s a long time ago.’

Lucy sat up as straight as a poker, the blinding rage inside her so white-hot she thought she might actually explode. There couldn’t be that many Patrick Bakers; the useless bastard. What the hell was he playing at? If he knew there was a chance it was his childhood friend whose body had been found then why wasn’t he on the rampage? Why wasn’t he working extra hard to get her identified and find her killer? This was too much – she was going to have to speak to him. Superior rank or not, there was no way she was letting him get away with this. She couldn’t speak to him at work without causing a huge fuss; she would go to his house and have it out with him. Then she would bring him in for questioning if he didn’t give her some plausible answers.

‘Can you excuse me for a moment? I just need to make a quick phone call.’ She stood up and walked out of the house to the front garden, where she rang the control room and asked for a family liaison officer to come and sit with Malcolm and for the new DCI’s home address. Then she went back inside.

‘It’s okay, I’ll go back through the original house-to-house enquiries. Thank you for your help. I’m going to have to go now, but a family liaison officer will be here soon to take over. He’ll be able to answer any questions you might have and arrange for you to speak to the pathologist, Dr Maxwell.’

‘Thank you. As much as my heart is broken, it’s good to know that you’ve found her. I can bury her with her mum and brother; it was my wife’s dying wish that if we ever found Jenny she was to be buried in the same grave. It makes me feel better knowing those three are finally going to be reunited.’

Lucy smiled at him. If her heart wasn’t already damaged enough, she felt another tiny piece of it tear for Jenny Burns and her broken-hearted mum and brother. She took a business card from her pocket and scribbled her mobile number onto the back of it. Handing it to him, she said, ‘If you think of anything else, Mal, please don’t hesitate to ring me – that’s my mobile number on the back. Don’t bother trying to ring the 101 number; it takes forever to get through. If I don’t answer, leave me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. You take care and I’ll be in touch as soon as I have some news for you.’

He nodded and Lucy left him to go back to her car. She was determined to get that poor man some peace of mind. She would find the killer and give Jenny Burns the justice she deserved.