---

They stopped at the station to drop off Anna. Tech-savvy Anna had worked in computing before joining the force and Robyn wanted her to check out the Gregsons’ computer, as well as find out everything she could about Libby and the mysterious Tarik.

‘Get into any social media accounts the Gregsons might have, search Henry and Lauren’s browsing history and see if either was signed up to any dating websites, or if there’s any suspicious online activity. They can’t be perfect. None of us is perfect. There has to be some reason he’s been murdered and there may be some online trail that will enlighten us.’

Anna’s face brightened slightly. She always appeared to be most content when hunting online for information.

---

The twenty-five-minute journey passed quickly. Robyn checked her rear-view mirror and turned into Beacon Street. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of the three spires of Lichfield Cathedral. The last time she’d driven down this street was when she was following one of her famous hunches and chasing after a perp the media had named the Lichfield Leopard. It brought back memories of the night when she was unsure of herself but guided by her instinct she’d found her killer. Davies had always said she had phenomenal instinct yet it had let her down the day he supposedly left for his rendezvous in Morocco. Stop it! She had to put Davies out of her mind for a while. She couldn’t let him dominate her thoughts.

She drew up outside the convenience store Henry had worked at and, having found a suitable parking space, headed towards the store. The door opened and a woman with a buggy emerged, a full plastic bag dangling from one hand. Robyn held open the door. She waited as the buggy was manoeuvred through, her gaze resting on a small, serious face in a woollen hat staring up from under a fluffy blanket. The woman departed and Robyn entered. The inside of the store was brightly lit and smelt of warm bread. Several aisles were in front of her, to the right were two checkout tills, and to the left, a kiosk and counter where cigarettes and lottery tickets were sold.

Liam Carrington, the store manager and Henry Gregson’s best friend, was at the back of the store, talking to a woman in her late fifties who was wearing a white shop uniform bearing the MiniMarkt logo and a blue hair protector. The smell of baked bread was strongest here, causing Robyn’s stomach to gurgle. The memory of eating warm croissants on a balcony in Paris with Davies threatened to overtake her, but she drove it back into the recesses of her mind and strode towards Liam. He looked up, acknowledged her with a nod, said something to the woman and joined Robyn.

‘You must be DI Carter,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘PC Marker phoned me and told me to expect you.’

‘Thank you for taking time to speak to me. Can I say how sorry I am about Henry Gregson? I understand you were close.’

Liam’s mouth turned downwards and his shoulders slumped. ‘He was like a brother. He was such a good chap. Wouldn’t harm a fly. He’s godfather to my daughter Astra, you know? Took his role really seriously. He and Lauren saw Astra almost every week. Sometimes they’d take her to the park or zoo. Lauren even bought one of those little stickers for his car – ‘Baby on Board’. They loved her to bits. Astra will miss him badly.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘One in a million. How’s Lauren? Ella is going around to see her later. How’s she bearing up?’

‘It hasn’t quite sunk in yet. She’s got an officer with her at the moment. Ella’s your girlfriend?’

‘We live together,’ he said distantly, staring at a couple in their late seventies now approaching them. The husband, wizened, with hair so thin his liver-spotted scalp was visible, was guiding his wife by the elbow, holding her gently as if she were porcelain. Her face was peculiar to look at – one side a darker shade than the other – and slightly distorted, as if she’d had an accident that had shattered the cheekbone. She shuffled forward, barely able to cover the distance across the floor.

‘Look, shall we go out back? It’s more private.’

Robyn agreed and was shown into a tiny kitchen come staffroom. There was a long bench against one wall behind a table, and opposite, a kettle and an array of white cups and mugs. Liam pulled a mug forwards.

‘Tea?’

She shook her head. ‘I just had one.’

Liam boiled the kettle and rested against the kitchen top, facing her. He was rangy and lean-faced, tiny pockmarked scars visible on his cheeks in the fluorescent lighting of the restroom. His hair was thinning and his hairline had receded to reveal a long forehead. He removed his round glasses and looked myopically at her. His hands trembled as he polished the lenses with the sleeve of his shirt.

Robyn spoke. ‘I understand Henry swapped shifts with another staff member – Daisy – and was working yesterday. Can you tell me what time he clocked off?

Liam shook his head. ‘No. No, he didn’t come in yesterday. He didn’t swap shifts with anybody. Daisy was here all day. I’d have known about it if he had.’ As the kettle reached its boiling point, Liam’s shoulders slumped again and Robyn watched his face crumple. He turned away from her and tears dripped onto the kitchen top. Robyn was once again helpless. She’d seen so much grief, and every time it ate into her soul. A person’s life affected so many others. Their death, even more so. Robyn waited for him to regain control. When he finally faced her, his eyes were red-rimmed. He sniffed back tears and passed her a mug of tea.

‘Did you want sugar?’ he asked.

She shook her head and thanked him even though she’d already refused the drink. ‘When did you last see Henry?’

Liam sniffed a couple of times. ‘Erm, Monday. Monday morning. We were both in then. I left at eleven to go to the distribution warehouse in Stoke, to discuss a problem with a delivery. Henry was here when I left. I didn’t get back until six, and by then, he’d gone off shift.’

‘Did he seem okay to you that day?’

Liam nodded. ‘Fine.’

‘Lauren told me you’re his best friend. Has he spoken to you about any troubles he was having – any problems or anxieties?’

Liam pondered the question. ‘He wasn’t worried about anything major – nobody threatening him or anything like that, if that’s what you mean?’

‘I was thinking along the lines of more personal problems. Was everything okay with his marriage? Did he ever talk to you about his relationship with Lauren?’

Liam shrugged. ‘Well, yes. But I don’t think that’s relevant. He and Lauren were sound. They had a few differences but what couple doesn’t?’

‘I understand they had a minor fallout that upset Henry – it was about children.’ Robyn hoped she wasn’t being too pushy. Liam’s face suggested she was treading on thin ice.

‘They wanted children. As I said, they regularly took Astra out to the park, or out for the day. Lauren is desperate – no, make that obsessed – with getting pregnant, but they’ve had a few problems. One night, Lauren got overemotional and they rowed big time about it. Stupid things were said in the heat of the argument – she said he wasn’t committed to her or to their relationship, and even accused him of seeing other women. She was wrong – very wrong. He loved Lauren and he’d have loved a baby. Maybe not immediately, but he wanted one in time. He didn’t think they could afford a child, especially if Lauren became a stay-at-home mother like Ella. He asked me how I manage on my salary and I told him the truth – I barely do, but we get by. That was why they had a fallout. All couples row about stuff. Nobody has a perfect, lovey-dovey relationship. Do you, Detective?’

For a second, Robyn thought back to Davies – an angry Davies, red-faced through shouting – turning his back on her and marching towards the door, and an equally angry Robyn hurling a plate of uneaten food at the wall behind his retreating form. She shut her mind to it.

‘I’m sorry to have to ask you such personal questions. It’s important I get a complete picture of Henry. He didn’t confide anything else? Anything else you can tell me that would throw light on why he was on Cannock Chase yesterday afternoon?’

He wiped his glasses absent-mindedly with some kitchen roll and checked for smudges before putting them back on.

‘I can’t think of any reason.’

‘You say you went to Stoke on Monday. Did you ever meet Libby?’

He looked blankly at her. ‘Who’s Libby?’

‘Henry’s sister.’

‘No – that can’t be right. He told me he was an only child. His parents died a few years ago, in a boating accident while on holiday in Spain. He couldn’t bear to talk about it.’

Robyn gave a sad shake of her head. ‘That’s not true. His sister lives with their sick mother, in Stoke-on-Trent.’

Liam’s mouth flapped open. ‘I had no idea. Why wouldn’t he tell me that? I was his best friend. It makes no sense. I thought he was an honest sort of guy.’

‘I’m sure he was honest. From what I can gather, his mother has a serious degenerative illness that caused her to no longer recognise her son. I expect he didn’t want to burden you with his anxieties. He and his sister didn’t get along too well either, so that would explain his reluctance to tell you.’

Liam nodded dumbly. ‘I suppose so. We blokes don’t like to wear our hearts on our sleeves. Henry was no different to most. I’d have listened though. If he’d needed to talk to me, I’d have listened. I really liked him. I don’t have many friends and none like him. I’m going to miss him so much.’

‘What did you talk about?’

‘The usual: sport, work, life in general, news and all sorts of other stuff. We just got along. Some people do, don’t they? You don’t need to be talking all the time – sometimes it’s a shared laugh at something, a few pints after work and a moan about how the team played at the weekend that makes a good friendship.’

‘Did you talk about your families?’

He nodded. ‘Mostly about Astra. She’s always up to something to make me smile.’ He gave a proud father smile that changed almost immediately. ‘It’s going to create a gaping hole in my little girl’s life. She loves Henry and Lauren.’ His head lowered again. Silence hung for a minute, then he spoke softly. ‘It’s going to be a huge loss to us all.’

Robyn left with the distinct impression Henry Gregson was a secretive individual. He’d lied to his best friend, family and wife. She wondered what else he’d lied about and if a lie had led to his death.