She grabbed a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose as the old lady fumbled with the locks on the door. After a moment, the door opened the length of the chain. ‘Can I see your credentials?’ Mrs McDonald croaked. Gina and Jacob pulled out their warrant cards and fed them through the gap. A shaky hand reached out and took them. ‘Oh, so you’re a DI, how wonderful,’ she said as she handed the cards back and slid the chain off.

‘That’s right. DI Harte and DS Driscoll. We’re just following up on your call to the station,’ Gina replied.

The door opened and a hunchbacked woman wearing several layers of clothing invited them in. ‘Come through to the sitting room,’ she said as she led them through the musty hallway into an unlit room. The clouds outside made it seem almost dark in the lounge. ‘Please sit.’

The old lady left the room as they sat on the two-seater cottage suite settee. Gina took out her notebook. ‘I hope I can see what I’m writing,’ she muttered. Jacob grinned, and they listened in silence as rain began to tap at the bay window. Gina stood and looked out. She had a clear view to the end of the road. A few doors down, there was a small path that cut through the houses and led to the library. ‘That could be the route he took. There’s no CCTV along the back of town. At night, it would’ve been dark and half of the street lamps are out of use due to lack of maintenance. If he – I’ll refer to the perp as a he – he did come here, I’d say he knows his way around. You don’t just stumble upon this road.’

‘Let’s see what she has to say first. This person passing may not have had anything to do with Baby Jenkins.’

‘Maybe not.’ Gina walked back over to the suite and sat next to Jacob.

Mrs McDonald returned with a tea tray and a plate of biscuits. She shuffled right up to them and placed the tray on the coffee table. ‘Please help yourself to tea. I would do it for you but I’d probably cover you with it. My hands aren’t too steady.’ Her hearing aid whistled and she fiddled with it for a moment. ‘Damn thing. Do you know, however many times I get this thing adjusted, it’s never comfortable?’

‘Mrs McDonald, would it be okay to turn on your light while we talk?’

The old lady peered over her glasses. ‘I don’t have a main light. My son is meant to fix it but he’s been busy. If you just reach behind you, you’ll be able to turn on the lamp.’ Gina reached around the back of the sofa and felt for a cable. Her hand waded through an entanglement of what felt like cobwebs until she reached the switch, and then she could finally see the room in all its peach and pastel glory. The décor had been the height of fashion during the early nineties.

‘That’s much better.’

‘I know. It is getting wetter,’ Mrs McDonald replied. Gina looked at Jacob; he smiled and looked away.

‘This tea is lovely, thank you,’ he said as he took a bite out of a garibaldi.

‘Mrs McDonald,’ said Gina loudly, ‘you called us with information relating to the appeal. Can you tell us what you saw on the evening of Friday the first of December?’

The old lady took a biscuit and bit into it. A smattering of crumbs fell into her lap. ‘I remember that night because it was the night of the storm. The water was running down the roads and the drains were bubbling over.’ She stopped talking and took another bite of her biscuit. Gina flinched as a plump black cat leaped from the dresser behind them into her lap. ‘It’s okay. He won’t hurt you. He just wants a bit of fuss, don’t you, Junior?’

Gina stroked the cat, but it jumped down and scurried off towards the kitchen. Gina glanced at her watch. She needed to be back soon for Hannah.

‘Go on.’

‘Where was I?’

‘The roads and drains were bubbling over,’ Jacob said as he stared at his notebook.

The old lady leaned forward and made eye contact. ‘I was looking out the window for Junior, as I wanted to go to bed. As I stated on the phone, I don’t know what time this was exactly, but it was between six thirty and eight, that’s the best I can remember.’ She cleared her throat. Gina took the opportunity to cough away the tickle in her throat at the same time.

‘Between six thirty and eight on Friday the first of December?’

‘That’s right. I was looking for Junior. I’ve already told you that, haven’t I?’

‘It’s okay, Mrs McDonald. Just tell us everything in your own words as they come to you,’ Gina said with a smile.

‘I was so worried about Junior. The rain, it was pelting. He doesn’t like the rain. I also felt bad as he’d piddled on the floor earlier that day. I was angry and threw him out in the rain. You’re not going to report me to the animal welfare people, are you?’

‘Of course not, Mrs McDonald. We’re just here to establish what you saw on that evening. I can see that Junior is very well cared for,’ Gina replied.

The old lady began to pick at her crepe-like cuticles. ‘The lights were off in the house and I hadn’t got the television on. I’d been reading a book about local historical murders that my son got me last Christmas and I’d scared myself a bit. Anyway, I decided to go up to bed and watch telly but I needed to get the cat in first. I do that, go to bed early. It’s how I keep warm. I stared out the window, thinking, where is my Junior? Will he ever come back? That’s when I saw the man. He had the gait of a man anyway. A straight waist under a hooded dark jacket. The type the kids wear all the time. I tried to look at his face as he passed but I couldn’t see a thing. He had a scarf wrapped around his mouth and he was soaking wet. I remember thinking, why would anyone be out on a night like this without a raincoat or umbrella, or indeed, even wellingtons? He just seemed out of place. Does that make sense?’

Gina checked her watch again, and nodded. Jacob continued to scribble in his pad. The cat meowed and ran back into the room.

‘I think he’s hungry. Will this take long?’ she asked.

‘It shouldn’t take too much longer,’ said Gina. ‘If you’d like to continue. You were saying that this person passed by outside and was wearing a hooded jacket?’

The woman leaned down and grabbed the cat. It yelped and wriggled. She gripped him and placed him on her lap. He immediately jumped back down. ‘That was it really. He passed and turned into the cut-through, just down the path. The one that leads to the library.’

‘When you called, you mentioned that this person was carrying something,’ Jacob said.

‘Yes. He had some sort of sports bag. He wasn’t carrying it like a sports bag though, over the shoulder or with arms linked under the handles. He was cradling the bag and talking as he scurried past.’ The woman looked up at the ceiling and shook her head. ‘Was he the one who left that baby to die in the rain?’

The smattering of raindrops had now turned into hailstones that tapped on the windowpanes. ‘We don’t know that. We’re just collecting witness statements at the moment, so that we can try to establish the facts of what happened that night. He may well have been the person who left the baby, or he may well have been doing something else. We need to identify and find him, to eliminate him from our enquiries.’ Gina stepped back towards the window. ‘Was he walking on this side of the path, right outside your window, or was he on the other side of the road?’

‘The other side, until he reached the cut through, that is. He then crossed and disappeared down it. I gave up on looking for Junior and went to bed then. I did feel bad but what could I do? He was scratching at the back door the next morning though so all was fine. Would you like some more tea?’

Gina looked at her watch and shook her head. ‘It’s very kind of you to offer, Mrs McDonald, but we have to get back to the station.’ Jacob nodded in agreement.

‘It’s lovely that you could come. If you need to come back to talk about anything else, I’m always in except on Monday between nine and ten thirty. You’re always welcome.’ Mrs McDonald’s hands trembled as she stood and went to lift the tea tray.

‘Here, let me take this for you,’ Gina said, reaching for the tray.

‘Thank you, dear. I tell you what, getting old is the worst thing ever. Enjoy your youth.’

Gina walked through to the pale blue kitchen and set the tray down on the worktop. The tap dripped, the wallpaper above the sink was peeling and fungus was growing around the window frame. The cat ran through and coiled himself around her ankles. She looked at her watch. Hannah would arrive at her house in just under an hour. She had to get back to the station, get the report to Briggs and get home.

Jacob was being led towards the door by Mrs McDonald. ‘You’ve been very helpful. Thank you so much. Here’s my card if you remember anything else in the meantime. Just call that number and ask for me.’

Gina joined them at the door. ‘Thank you, Mrs McDonald. Don’t forget to put your chain back on when we’ve left.’

‘I won’t. You never know who’s knocking about.’

‘You certainly don’t,’ Gina replied as they stepped into the hailstones. The woman hunched over as she closed the door. They watched as she entered the living room and turned the lamp off.

‘I hope I’m never that alone,’ Gina said.

Jacob looked back at her as they raced from the porch to the car. ‘It’s sad, so sad. There are so many Mrs McDonalds though.’

Total darkness had descended upon the road. Only three lamps were working. She hoped that Mrs McDonald’s account was an accurate one, that she wasn’t just a lonely woman, making things up. If true, she’d given them a useful start, and the fact that the suspect had been cradling a bag suggested highly unusual behaviour – behaviour consistent with someone who was carrying a baby in a bag.

Gina nervously checked the time again. She knew Hannah would let herself in with the key she’d given her, but would she wait? If she didn’t wait, what then? Gina wondered if she would end up like Mrs McDonald one day. It would be easy to think badly of Mrs McDonald’s son after that conversation, but had she let him down? Had he given up on her the way Hannah might eventually give up on Gina? Maybe there’s more to the story. Maybe, like Gina, Mrs McDonald harboured a dark secret, one she could never share with her son. If she told Hannah the truth, she might not believe her. She might never speak to her again. But keeping the secret was pushing Hannah away too. Gina flashed back to the night of Terry’s death, taking a swift intake of air as she relived the moment he tumbled down the stairs as baby Hannah cried in her cot.

‘Let’s hope we never become Mrs McDonald,’ Gina replied as she turned away and wiped an errant tear from her cheek.

Jacob smiled. ‘I’ve took some good notes in there. When we get back to the station, you could get your car and go straight home. I’m happy to get the report done before I leave. Go see your daughter, get in the bath or something and come back tomorrow feeling better.’

Gina coughed into her hand and returned his smile. ‘You’ve made my evening. I think I might just do that,’ she said. She might just make it home for Hannah.