---

David had got hold of a set of spare keys for Naomi’s house from a neighbour. Robyn arrived to find him by the front door. He shook his head.

‘No sign of anybody.’

Robyn followed him into the kitchen and took in the dirty dishes in the sink and a half-drunk mug of tea on the kitchen top.

‘Somebody left in a hurry,’ she said.

‘Naomi?’

‘Could be. There’s only one mug. Neighbour see anything?’

‘Nothing.’

Robyn heaved a sigh and shut her eyes, trying to picture exactly what might have taken place.

‘Is Naomi’s car still in the street?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then she might be in Anna’s car and even taken her hostage. I know it sounds crazy but it isn’t like Anna to not stay in touch. Something’s happened to her.’

She marched out to the back garden, surrounded by fence panels. There were no places to hide here. She turned on her heel and walked back through the house and down the front path, following it to the road, hunting for signs of a struggle. A couple of metres down the road an object caught her eye. She donned plastic gloves and lifted it. She recognised its plastic protector. She called for David who raced towards her and let out a groan. Robyn was holding Anna’s mobile.

She’d rung DCI Flint on her way to Bramshall, and as the first blue lights appeared down the street, she faced the sickening reality that one of her own was in danger. This ought to eclipse everything. Her search for Anna should take precedence. Although Flint’s voice had echoed her own concern, he’d insisted on the contrary.

‘Robyn, I’ll arrange extra assistance immediately but I want you to leave this to them. Return to the station and continue with your investigation. You can’t hold Liam Carrington and Ella Fox for much longer. I understand your anxiety but we’ll find her.’

Where could Anna be? If Robyn were Naomi Povey or Roger Jenkinson, where would she hide? It was impossible to second-guess their movements. DCI Flint was right. She had to get back to the station. She would have to leave this to the officers involved in the manhunt for Anna, Naomi and Jenkinson.

‘David, I want you to keep me updated on this. Keep communication channels open at all times.’

She drew away from the now busy street as more police cars arrived, heart weighing in her chest. She forced her focus back onto the case. They had three definite murders to deal with and one suspicious death. While Roger Jenkinson might be guilty of murdering Henry Gregson, there were still two suspects back at the station who were somehow involved in the lottery ticket theft and possibly even the other murders. Ella Fox had been in Barton-under-Needwood the morning Tessa was killed. Robyn desperately needed more evidence. She couldn’t charge either Liam or Ella until she had it, and she couldn’t return to the search for Anna until she’d got to the bottom of their involvement. With a determined expression on her face, she drove towards Yoxall. She might not be able to look for Anna but she could help speed up the search at Carrington’s house.

Within fifteen minutes she pulled onto Liam Carrington’s drive. The curtains weren’t drawn, and lights in every room revealed figures hunched over cupboards, tables and drawers, sorting through the couple’s life. Mitz was at the back of the property rummaging through the tiny cluttered shed. Petrol cans and boxes of tools were strewn outside on the patch of lawn behind it. Robyn checked in with them. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Mitz about Anna. It would serve no purpose other than to upset him.

‘Nothing so far. It’s filled with man-junk,’ said Mitz, picking up a paint stick used for repairing paint chips on cars. ‘There are boxes and boxes of cleaning cloths and car shampoos and waxes. I’ve been asking myself if Carrington owned a fleet of cars or if he was moonlighting as a car valet.’

Robyn gave a half-hearted smile. She glanced at the Audi A4 on the drive. ‘You checked it, didn’t you?’

‘Yes. Inside, and the boot, and underneath it in case something had been taped to the underside. It’s clean,’ said Mitz, picking up a bottle, unscrewing the cap and sniffing.

‘It’s unusual these days for couples to only have one car between them. It’s quite an old model too. Done almost 150,000 miles. It’d be a right pain if it broke down. They’d have to use public transport or get a taxi. I wouldn’t trust such an old car,’ he said.

Robyn blinked suddenly. Anna had checked all the automatic number plate recognition points closest to Cannock Chase around the time of Gregson’s murder. She’d been looking for privately owned vehicles passing through them, in the hope one would belong to the killer. Nobody had been searching for a taxi. She called the station and spoke to the duty officer.

‘Is there anyone who can run an ANPR check for me?’

‘Tom Shearer’s the only person available. He came in about ten minutes ago. I’ll put you through.’

Shearer was surprised to hear her voice but listened without comment while she explained quickly why she needed to second him. ‘So, can you check through the footage of all the cars that passed through the ANPR points around Cannock Chase on the fourteenth? See if any of them were taxis. Ring me back when you find one.’

‘I wouldn’t do this for anyone else,’ he said. ‘But seeing as you asked so nicely—’

‘Thanks, Tom. I owe you.’

‘Yes, you do,’ he said before disconnecting.

Robyn marched across the tarmac drive and directly into the kitchen, acknowledging the officer searching through cupboards.

Matt was in Astra’s playroom in the attic, hunched over, his huge frame filling the small space as he lifted boxes and toys and scoured for the evidence they so desperately needed.

The low walls of the room had been painted in a cheerful yellow. A picture made of scrabble letters that spelt the name Astra was fixed to the end wall, below it a fat cushion, and various scattered books. This was her reading corner. The room was small but every fitted cupboard in the spaces in the eaves was crammed with children’s paraphernalia – toys, books, games and clothes. An enormous teddy bear with a smiling face and large bow tie sat propped up next to a chest of drawers. It was surrounded by numerous plastic toys and activity centres, most of which were tired hand-me-downs.

‘There’s so much stuff,’ said Robyn.

‘Poppy’s the same. She’s got more clothes and possessions than either of us. You can’t help it. You see something and buy it for them. You just want them to have the things you didn’t have,’ Matt explained.

Robyn opened one of the drawers and felt her heart lurch at the tiny outfits she found. If only, she thought. She felt around, moved the endless neat piles of jumpers and cardigans and shook each one of them. Matt dealt with cupboards filled with piles of boxes. He pulled them out patiently, sorting through the contents. Once she finished with the drawers, Robyn had run out of places to search. She lifted the gaily-coloured rug and felt along the wooden floor for loose boards. There was nothing.

Matt began to pack up the boxes again. Robyn stared at the cheerful bear. She’d owned a teddy bear but it had been nowhere near as huge as this one. She wandered across to it. It was far too large for a child to lift. Astra probably climbed on it. She picked it up. It was surprisingly soft and lighter than she imagined it would be. It was strangely comforting, and for a second she felt an urge to hug it. She gave it a quick squeeze before putting it back but stopped in mid-motion. It hadn’t felt right. It hadn’t felt squidgy enough. There’d been something hard inside it. She lifted the bear again and searched the seams along its back. The stitching here had been repaired with a different-coloured thread, a shade darker than the original. She licked her lips, suddenly dry. They wouldn’t hide a gun inside a child’s toy, would they? There was only one way to find out. ‘Matt,’ she said, her voice filled with hushed urgency. ‘I need a pair of scissors.’

With trembling fingers she unpicked the stitching until she’d created a gap large enough to push her hand inside the bear. She eased it through the stuffing until she grazed plastic. Her eyes widened. This was crazy. She gripped the object and drew back her hand. The disappointment was crushing. She held a round plastic device.

Matt let out a heavy sigh. ‘I know what that is. It’s from the Build-a-Bear workshop store. It’s for a recorded message that’s put inside the bear before it gets stuffed, sewn and completed. We had a bear made for Poppy and one like that inserted. When the child squeezes the bear, it sets it off. Poppy’s says, “I’m Arnie, I love you.”’ He took the object from Robyn and shook it. ‘This one’s broken.’

Crushed and frustrated, Robyn cast about the room. If there was no weapon concealed in this house, she’d have to work hard at getting confessions from her suspects. It was all too much – Anna had disappeared, Roger was on the loose, and she couldn’t find enough evidence to convict any suspects. She straightened up. Defeat wasn’t a possibility. She’d strip this place if she had to in order to find something that would give her answers. Her eyes lighted upon a pale-pink box marked ‘Treasures’. It was three times the size of a large shoebox.

‘Checked that?’ she asked Matt.

He confirmed he had. ‘Keepsakes,’ he said. ‘Her first baby boots, book, toys. That sort of thing.’

The tugging at her heart drove her to peer inside. The pain of losing her own child had never left her, and she had no idea what made her look inside a box filled with memories of a healthy baby, other than a desire to know what it would have been like, had her own child lived. The pale-pink baby boots took her breath away. They were so tiny. The white Babygro embroidered with three silver stars was so soft Robyn wanted to hold it to her cheek. She replaced the item before the overwhelming sadness that was bubbling inside consumed her. She lifted the box by its handles to make room to search under the carpets and checked herself. For a box that contained only light items, it felt a little on the heavy side. She replaced it and lifted the lid once more. This time she removed each object: the boots, the Babygro, a hairbrush and toy felt giraffe. She pulled out a newborn’s blanket and a soft rattle bearing a picture of a rabbit. Underneath she found a book entitled Astra and two silver teaspoons. With the box empty, she lifted it again and shook it.

‘I think there’s something in here,’ she said.

‘I can’t hear anything rattling about. It could just be weighted so it doesn’t collapse. It’s only made of cardboard.’

Robyn studied the interior of the box and let out a gentle sigh. Matt was right and it would be awful if she were wrong again. She’d already destroyed a beloved teddy bear. This was a precious item and she didn’t want to do the same to it. The slight kink in the corner of the base made her challenge these thoughts. She would be able to lift enough of the base to confirm it was, as Matt had suggested, weighted, without ruining the box. She scratched carefully at the slightly elevated corner, using only the tips of her nails until she felt it give and could get leverage on it. Pinching it between her fingertips, she lifted it. It had been firmly pressed into the base of the box. Robyn persisted, driven by her intuition. There had to be something other than baby memorabilia inside the box. A weighted strip? She brushed that idea away. The cardboard base eased from the edges of the box, making it easier to peel back. Robyn could concentrate on nothing but the task, all the while wondering what she’d do next if she were wrong yet again.

Time stood still as Robyn took in the enormity of her find. A bubble-wrapped object lay beneath the false bottom. She lifted it to the light, veins fizzing.

‘Holy shit! You were spot on,’ said Matt in an awed tone. ‘It’s a gun.’

The Smith & Wesson Webley in her hands was surely the same weapon used to kill Henry Gregson. It hadn’t been dumped, as they feared. She had the evidence she needed. She could finally close this case. She’d get back to the station immediately. She was about to speak to Matt when a shout from the couple’s bedroom drew their attention.

‘I might have something here.’

Robyn and Matt raced towards the room, now in disarray, with bedding upturned and clothes heaped in a pile on the floor. An officer was wrestling a panel away from under a set of fitted drawers. ‘It’s loose,’ she explained as the panel came away.

Robyn bent down and felt inside the space under the drawers. Her fingers immediately brushed against a plastic bag that she withdrew and passed to Matt. His face broke into a broad smile.

‘One mobile phone, undoubtedly belonging to Liam Carrington,’ he said, holding up the Nokia. ‘I suspect it’s the same pay-as-you-go phone Henry Gregson called the morning he died.’