Retaking her seat in the viewing suite, Kate watched as Jackson was escorted in, head bent low, and shoulders sagging. He certainly didn’t resemble a confident, cold-blooded killer, but then that could all just be part of his carefully crafted act.

Kate had called in every favour she could to ensure SSD prioritised processing the tools from the back of Jackson’s van and any new evidence being brought in from the unfolding scene at his house. But with two bloody crime scenes still being analysed, she knew the technicians in SSD were already spread thin.

Nothing persuaded a jury as successfully as clinical evidence, but a confession made during a police interview could be just as persuasive, even if it was later retracted in an open court.

‘How much should we disclose to the solicitor?’ Patel had asked after Kate had directed them to re-interview Jackson.

Sharing all the evidence or suppositions too early, and the suspect would be given time to formulate his excuses. But holding too much back could mean the suspect not feeling worried enough to tell them what they needed to know. Kate had told him to tread carefully.

Patel cleared his throat as Laura reintroduced those present and restarted the recording. ‘Given the information we’ve disclosed to your solicitor, is there anything you wish to say before we begin our questions, Mr Jackson?’

Jackson eyed the solicitor, who produced a handwritten piece of paper. ‘My client wishes to read a statement in response to the allegations made against him this morning.’

Kate saw Patel and Laura exchange glances, and knew what they were thinking: was he was about to confess?

The solicitor slid half-rimmed reading glasses over his ears. ‘I will read Mr Jackson’s words as he has written them, and you will be allowed to take a copy when it is finished.’ He paused, before beginning to read. ‘“I, Christopher Thomas Jackson, make this statement of my own free will. I understand that I do not have to say anything but that it may harm my defence if I do not mention when questioned something which I later rely on in court. This statement may be given in evidence. I wish to put on record that I do not know, have never met and did not kill Petr Nowakowski and Maria Alexandrou. I am making this statement against my solicitor’s guidance, but wish to set the record straight.

‘“I understand,”’ the solicitor continued reading, ‘“that my presence at St Bartholomew’s school last Friday is one of the reasons for my arrest today. Whilst I was not formally called to visit the school for business purposes, I was in fact there for personal reasons. If you contact Miss Sally Chalmers who teaches at St Bartholomew’s, she will confirm that I was at the school to collect her. I was with her from the moment I arrived until the time I left. Sally and I then spent the weekend together at her parents’ home in Poole, before we returned early this morning.”’

Kate jotted the name down to pass to the team to check against the list of teachers Mrs Kilpatrick had sent over. It didn’t surprise her that Jackson had instantly provided an alibi of his actions leading up to the discovery of the foot. But they would need to follow up with this Sally Chalmers to see if she could verify his statement.

‘“I also understand that at present you are searching both my home and business van for evidence to link me to these absurd allegations,’” the solicitor read. ‘“I am certain you will find no such evidence. I am happy for you to ask me any further questions about my recent activities, but I reserve the right to answer ‘no comment’ if I believe you are trying to misinterpret my answers.’” The solicitor folded the piece of paper and handed it to Patel, a self-satisfied smile spreading across his face.

‘Where’s your phone, Mr Jackson?’ Patel asked.

‘I switched it off on Friday as I didn’t want our weekend away to be disturbed. I thought it was in my bag until we got back today, and realised I must have left it at Sally’s parents’ house.’

‘And, of course, you won’t mind us contacting them to verify that the phone is there?’

Jackson no longer looked the broken man who’d first walked into the interview room. ‘I’ll give you the address and you can bloody go and collect it yourself!’

Kate knew he was right to be so confident. Unless Humberidge and SSD came through with something soon, he was going to walk, and with him would go their chance of finding Daisy alive.

---

Kate rapped on the interview-room door and Patel pulled it open, stepping out when he saw it was Kate and closing the door behind him. ‘Ma’am?’

‘Ask him about Daisy.’

‘We were going to get to that, but there isn’t anything to—’

‘Just ask him. Find out what he was doing in Portswood on the night she disappeared; ask him when he was last at number forty-eight. I want to see his reaction when he realises we’ve rumbled him. Don’t tell him anything has been discovered to connect him to her disappearance but intimate that we have something. See if he bites.’

‘Is there anything?’

‘No, but I know he’s holding back. He’s far too confident in there. We need to knock him off his stride.’

‘Ma’am, we can’t mislead him.’

‘It isn’t misleading. You’re not saying we’ve found anything, but just hinting that we expect to. Give me five minutes to get back upstairs and then go in. He’ll wonder what’s taken you so long out here. Every minute you’re out here, is another minute for him to squirm.’

‘What about the teacher he reckons he was with?’

‘Quinlan is verifying that, but it wouldn’t surprise me if the reason he was away with her was to establish an alibi.’

‘Ma’am, you’re not making any sense.’

Kate fixed him with a stare. ‘I think he has an accomplice.’

‘Who?’

‘That’s what we need to find out. The figure that Daisy stopped and spoke to outside the house; what if he and Jackson are up to something together?’

Patel offered her a sympathetic look. ‘Ma’am, I know you’re desperate to find Daisy, but you’re making huge leaps here.’

‘Just ask him. SSD will find the link soon enough.’

---

Patel re-entered the room on the screen and took his seat. Kate smiled as he whispered something unintelligible to Laura, who nodded. It didn’t matter what he’d said, it was enough to unnerve Jackson.

Laura restarted the recording, and sat forward; Patel must have instructed her to take the lead. ‘Where’s Daisy, Mr Jackson?’

A look of confusion gripped him. ‘Daisy who?’

‘Oh, don’t try that with me,’ Laura continued, opting for bluntness over gentle probing. ‘We know you were in Portswood the night she went missing. What did you do with her?’

Jackson was looking at his solicitor who in turn looked bewildered. ‘I don’t follow.’

‘Daisy Emerson. You remember? The fifteen-year-old that you and your pal snatched nearly two weeks ago. We have a witness who saw your mate speaking to her outside number forty-eight Abbotts Way. You know that address don’t you, Mr Jackson?’

‘What? No—’

‘Oh, so you’ve never lived at forty-eight Abbotts Way? You were listed as the registered tenant according to council tax records.’

‘What? Well, yes, I… I did live there once, but—’

‘When were you last at that residence, Mr Jackson?’

‘I-I-I don’t know.’

‘In the last month?’

‘What? No.’

‘Really, why were you in Portswood on the second of February, then?’

‘February second? I-I-I can’t remember where I was on that day.’

‘Your van was clocked on a traffic camera heading towards Portswood at nine p.m. on February second, why were you there?’

Jackson looked away, his eyes darting as he tried to access his long-term memory. ‘Um, I don’t know… I can’t remember.’

‘Where’s Daisy now, Mr Jackson?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know who you’re talking about.’

‘Like you don’t know Petr Nowakowski and Maria Alexandrou? What did you do with their bodies, Mr Jackson?’

Jackson nodded at his solicitor to interrupt.

The solicitor removed and folded his glasses. ‘Detective, I don’t know where this new line of questioning has stemmed from, but unless you care to disclose your evidence, I will be instructing my client not to respond to any of these wild accusations.’

Laura ignored the solicitor, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on Jackson. ‘We found your stash of pornographic materials; we know the sort of thing that turns you on, Mr Jackson. It’s time for you to come clean and tell us where Daisy is.’

Jackson’s face contorted with desperate anguish, and Kate couldn’t keep the smile from growing across her face. They had him.