---

Robyn tapped on the whiteboard with her black pen and summarised the information she’d given her team. Her heart was heavy at the thought of the phone call she’d just taken. Lauren Gregson had called to ask if there was any progress and to find out when her husband’s body would be released. She wanted to make funeral arrangements. Her voice was weary and distant, as if the very act of phoning was too great a chore to handle. Robyn was again reminded of the pain she’d felt when she’d lost Davies. The urge to find Henry’s killer was even greater now.

‘To recap, all the occupants of those cars present in Cannock Chase car park yesterday have been interviewed, and none of them saw Gregson’s car or Henry Gregson himself, or observed any unusual activity. Lauren Gregson believed her husband to be at work and received a text from him at just before ten in the morning to say he’d arrived at MiniMarkt. After that, she went shopping for the rest of the day. We have car park CCTV footage showing her arriving at John Lewis car park in Solihull at 11.21 a.m. and departing at 4.50 p.m. She can account for her movements and there are witnesses who will corroborate them. She stopped at a café for lunch and has a receipt for it, and she had a mini beauty makeover at a counter in the House of Fraser.’ She paused to allow her officers to process the information.

‘Henry Gregson lied to his wife about his mother being in a home and about his whereabouts yesterday,’ Robyn said. She took a sip from a bottle of water before continuing.

‘His friend and the manager of MiniMarkt, Liam Carrington, told me Gregson definitely took the day off from work yesterday and didn’t come in to replace anybody. Carrington wasn’t at the store himself but those on duty verified Gregson did not appear all day. Therefore, Gregson must have lied to his wife. Why? Where was he all morning and what was he doing on the Chase at lunchtime?’

Robyn looked around the room at her officers and continued. ‘Gregson has an unblemished record at work, was well thought of and respected among the other members of staff. I spoke to two others who confirmed that Gregson was a unique man, caring and obliging. None of them knew of his whereabouts yesterday and assumed he was with his wife. Mitz, what have you got?’

‘We monitored the hashtag GruffaloSpotters, and photographs were uploaded late yesterday afternoon by a Mrs Jane Dean. I followed them up and established that these were photographs taken by the family who were on Cannock Chase the same time as Mrs Price and her grandchildren. I took a statement from them earlier today – Mrs Dean heard a noise that sounded like a car backfiring or a firecracker. She didn’t pay any attention to it at the time, but it was shortly before they left the park around 1.45 p.m. She also believes she caught a glimpse of a jogger ahead of her on the path. She described that person as wearing a dark hooded top and jogging bottoms. She couldn’t elaborate or identify them as male or female.’

Robyn folded her arms. ‘Good work, Mitz. So, we might have a sighting of our perp?’

‘It seems that’s possible. The children don’t remember seeing anybody other than Mrs Price, Kyle and Aiden.’ Mitz leant forward on his desk, studying the whiteboard.

Robyn unfolded her arms, wrote ‘jogger’ and folded them again. ‘Anna?’

Anna, sitting on her desk at the back of the room, shook her head. ‘Still working through the Gregsons’ website history, caches and cookies. They use the computer for storing photographs, online shopping, watching YouTube videos, and for general searches. There are loads of searches to do with having children, reproductive health websites and forums, women’s health, online sexual health sites and fertility treatments. I’ve also traced cookies to numerous marketplace sites that sell baby items: specialist sites, department stores, Amazon and Etsy sites that specialise in baby clothes and toys, christening gifts and so on. What was interesting was that the browsing history for all these sites has been deleted. Other searches – mostly for sports websites – are most likely her husband’s. There are other websites but nothing that indicates they’re anything other than squeaky clean.’

The door flew open and Shearer strode in, a sandwich in his hand, jaw moving up and down. He halted and chewed faster.

‘Sorry,’ he said, wiping a crumb from his face. ‘Don’t mind me.’ He dropped onto his chair and began tapping at his keyboard, his dark eyebrows furrowed.

Robyn tried to ignore him. ‘David, you talk to the tech department?’

‘They had a rush on some other equipment but they’re working on his mobile now. However, I’ve got a log of the calls Gregson made over the last month and those he made yesterday.’ He held up a list. ‘I’m about to check them out. Techies say he didn’t finish typing his last text message and there’s no recipient. This is what he typed.’

Robyn collected the paper and read it out. ‘I can’t keep this secret. Will have to—’ She wrote the words out on the board. ‘I imagine he didn’t finish typing because at that moment, he was shot, or surprised, and dropped his mobile. What do you think?’ She caught Shearer looking across. It was unnerving knowing he was listening to her and no doubt judging how she operated.

‘Gregson was keeping a secret. That leaves it wide open. It could be any sort of secret. An affair, for example?’ said Matt.

‘I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, so while we might have our own theories as to what the secret might be, all we know for sure is Gregson was keeping one.’

Robyn folded her arms. ‘Imagine this scenario and feel free to disagree with it: Gregson arranged to meet his killer to discuss this secret. The killer arrived ahead of the scheduled meeting and lay in wait for him. Gregson pulled up and waited. While he was waiting he began to type a message. For some reason, he lowered his passenger window, at which point he was shot. Might he have been texting because he thought the killer wasn’t going to show up?’ She waited for a second to check all were following her argument. When no one spoke, she continued.

‘The phone flew out of his hand and landed underneath his seat. Did the attacker open the car door and try to locate Gregson’s mobile because it might have incriminating evidence on it, or did he leave it and attempt to flee the scene?’

Mitz breathed in and spoke. ‘That’s a likely scenario. I’d like to add another possibility, that Gregson spotted his assailant while he was texting, lowered the window to call to him, and was shot.’

‘I like that idea. That works well and explains why the window was lowered on a cold, wet day. I also wondered if he might not have deliberately attempted to conceal his mobile at the last minute to protect evidence.’

‘But he didn’t write in the name of the person he was contacting. There is no evidence. Normally, I choose a contact and then message them; I don’t write a message and then decide who to send it to,’ said Anna.

‘Ah, but you might if you didn’t know their number. What if it wasn’t somebody already in your contact list, or was an unfamiliar number? You might write out a message and then add the number, wouldn’t you?’ shouted Matt, delighted with himself.

‘Good. Yes. So, let’s move on from the theories and look at what we know for sure. A jogger was spotted in the area and we need to track him or her down. That could be a difficult task. It could be somebody who lives nearby, or a regular jogger. I run over the Chase some weekends. All I’ll say is it was either a keen jogger, because as we know yesterday was a very cold and wet day, or maybe even the killer. Matt, it’s a long shot, but would you talk to occupants of houses in the area in case it was one of them running?’

Robyn thought about her friend, Tricia, who sometimes trained with her. She knew Tricia through her local gym and had become friends with her after solving a case involving one of Tricia’s friends. Robyn liked to run alone but they’d occasionally run together and often over on Cannock Chase. ‘And try a few local gyms and running clubs. It’s possible the lone jogger was a member of a group who regularly used the Chase. Another long shot, but what else can we do?’ She shrugged an apology.

‘As for suspects, we’ve got his sister, Libby, who was supposedly at home in Stoke-on-Trent with her sick mother. She says she didn’t leave the house all day. We’re checking to see if that bears out.

‘Then there’s Liam Carrington, his co-worker, who lives in the village of Yoxall, ten miles from Lichfield. He was off work yesterday, looking after his three-year-old daughter, Astra, while his partner, Ella, visited a friend in hospital. He watched television with Astra for most of the morning. Just before lunchtime, he took her to the playground and onto the butcher’s shop in the village, so no doubt somebody will confirm his whereabouts between 1 and 3 p.m. We’ll verify that.’

She thought briefly of Liam, tears flowing down his cheeks in the back room at MiniMarkt, trying to be strong, but failing.

Shearer finished his sandwich, balled the plastic wrapper and threw it into the waste bin with a self-satisfied smile. Again, Robyn ignored him.

‘Matt, find out what you can about Carrington – go to Yoxall and double-check his alibi. Anna, you’ve got your instructions and if you find anything that’d help prove Lauren was having an affair, let me know immediately. Mitz, I know it’s highly unlikely because they use rifles that don’t take .455 cartridges, but talk to the Forestry Commission anyway to see if they’ve been shooting muntjac deer. I know they culled some a few years ago. Speak to the park ranger and establish who is allowed to shoot on the Chase and when they’re allowed to. There’s an outside chance this was an accident. I thought about checking with farmers in the area. Can you handle that?’

‘Certainly can,’ replied Mitz.

‘Good, and request his financial records, in case there’ve been any larger sums paid into or come out of his account. I’m going to talk to the little boy who found Gregson. David, you ready? Time to put your recent training in handling children in these situations to good use. Let’s see if we can wind this up soon, folks.’

She put down her pen and gathered her coat and bag. She avoided looking at Shearer, who she sensed was watching her. As she moved in front of the door, it flew open again, causing her to sidestep to prevent being hit, and Gareth Murray bowled through, a box of documents in his arms.

‘Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t know you were standing behind the door,’ he said, trying to squeeze against the wall to allow her to pass.

She threw him a steely look. ‘May I remind you of how many people are now occupying this office? In all likelihood, one of us will be near the door at any given time.’

She stomped down the corridor, wishing Flint would hurry up and find somewhere to house Shearer. She didn’t like having him in her space. It stifled her thought process.

It was chilly outside; what her mother would have called ‘fresh’. She didn’t think often enough about her parents and she ought to. She had happy memories of them. For a moment she wished they were still alive and she wondered what they’d make of the mystery surrounding Davies. She felt a stab of sorrow. She couldn’t carry on like this. She needed to solve this case and she needed to find out if Davies was alive. There was one person she could talk to. As much as she didn’t want to involve her cousin Ross, she might have to. Ross was exactly the person to ask. The ex-policeman was now a personal investigator, and this was what he excelled at – finding lost people. She needed another opinion, and his would be the best. He’d know what she ought to do.

---

Eyes the colour of a perfect summer’s day, fringed with lengthy sooty eyelashes, dominated Aiden Moore’s cherub-like face. Wavy blond hair that tumbled to his shoulders added to the angelic impression. One hand clutched a soft toy Gruffalo; the thumb of the other was planted in his mouth as he sat beside his mother, nestled closely as if welded to her. His older brother, Kyle, a lean, sharp-featured boy who’d been jumping up and down on the well-worn settee, was now squirming about on a large chair, pulling at a thread that had come loose on the arm. His mother, Emma, oozed fatigue. Kyle had bombarded them all with question after question in the space of only a few minutes, and Robyn was under the impression life with him was one constant barrage of questions punctuated by wild antics.

David Marker was attempting to coax information from Aiden, who refused to speak and wriggled even closer to his mother’s side.

Kyle pushed himself up onto his knees and spoke out. ‘I don’t have to stay inside, do I?’

David smiled at him. ‘You’ve helped us a lot, Kyle.’

He twisted about and looked out of the window. ‘Can I go outside now?’ He got up without waiting for an answer. Emma looked at Robyn, who nodded.

‘Yes, but you stay in the garden, understand? It’s dark out there. Stay near the house,’ said his mother.

Kyle jumped up and bounded out of the room.

Emma heaved a deep sigh and gave Aiden a squeeze. ‘You okay, matey?’ she asked. ‘Want some juice?’

Aiden shook his head. Since his brother had given his version of what had happened along the path, Aiden had tightened his grasp on the toy Gruffalo. He pulled it tighter to him. Robyn had read up on the story the night before in readiness to talk to the boys. She had to find some common ground to connect with Aiden.

Robyn spoke gently. ‘I love the Gruffalo because he looks scary with his claws and tusks and poisonous wart, but he isn’t scary at all, is he? He’s actually frightened of the little mouse. You see, things that look scary sometimes aren’t at all. Did you see Mouse in the woods when you went with your granny?’

Aiden managed to nod. Slowly, he removed his thumb. ‘On a tree trunk,’ he said.

David picked up from Robyn’s cue. ‘And did you see Fox? Fox is my favourite. I love his bushy tail.’

Aiden shook his head.

‘That might be because Fox saw you coming and ran away from you. Maybe you were scary like the Gruffalo. Or maybe Kyle frightened him away.’ David smiled at the boy and the child gave another serious nod.

‘Did you see the Gruffalo?’ David pointed at his toy.

Aiden looked at it and gave a small nod.

‘You saw the Gruffalo?’ he said, with fake enthusiasm. ‘Kyle said he didn’t find the Gruffalo print. Did you find it?’

‘I saw it and then I saw him.’

Robyn felt a tingle of anticipation. Neither boy was near the Gruffalo section at the time. Aiden couldn’t have seen the Gruffalo footprint unless he was confused, or he meant he’d found a real footprint. She remained silent, allowing David to draw the information from the child.

‘Was it on the path?’

‘Yes.’

Robyn knew the Gruffalo footprint sign was further up the track. She’d studied the map of the route Anna had drawn. The character stops were marked, as was the point where Mrs Price had to slow down to catch her breath and where she lost sight of her grandchildren, and the exact spot where she and Kyle had found Aiden. Robyn had placed an X where the Kia had been stationed, about fifteen metres from the path in the clearing. David spoke again.

‘Do you think the Gruffalo was hiding behind a tree because he was scared of you?’

Aiden shook his head, a small furrow across his brow.

‘He might have been in the bushes, too frightened to come out and talk to you,’ David said.

A look of concern flashed across the boy’s face. David spotted it and fell silent. At that moment, the child’s lips trembled. ‘Not me. Not scared of me. He was scared of the man.’

Robyn caught David’s eye and shook her head. They’d have to leave it for the moment. Aiden was hugging his toy again. Emma didn’t want them to continue questioning him, and Robyn agreed. She didn’t want to cause the little boy any undue stress. She left David to make arrangements for them to talk again. Aiden had seen something hiding in the bushes near him. Could it have been the killer? She’d have to wait until Aiden was able to tell them more.