SIX

The attic window, Daniel was pleased to find, was low on the slope of the roof and its loose catch and rotting wooden frame weren’t proof against the multi-function penknife he produced from his pocket. Within seconds he and Kat had dropped down inside.

By the narrow beam of his pencil torch Daniel could see that the attic room was clearly being used as storage for surplus furniture. A sofa and cot were draped in dustsheets, and a stack of dining-room chairs stood beside the window. Two armchairs, a bookcase, a pile of roughly folded curtains and an assortment of cushions and lampshades reduced the floor space to a 2-foot-wide walkway that led from the window to the door. The contents of the room reinforced Daniel’s supposition that Patrescu was probably renting the house.

Treading carefully, Daniel crossed to the door and tried the handle. He was mildly surprised to find it unlocked, having expected security to be stepped up after the sisters had escaped.

On the other side of the door, a quick scan of the area revealed no obvious CCTV equipment and cautiously they stepped out into a dark, narrow passageway, which stretched away to right and left with doors on either side. A threadbare floral runner was laid on floorboards that creaked a little underfoot. Daniel knew from questioning Katya that the corridor formed a square route round the top floor of the house, a floor that would once have housed the servants in the building’s distant past, he guessed.

‘What else is up here?’ he whispered.

Katya shrugged. ‘More rooms like that one,’ she said. ‘And some with locked doors – maybe bedrooms? I don’t know. We weren’t allowed up here.’

They had started to move along the corridor towards the right-hand end, and as they turned the corner, Daniel saw one doorway with a keypad next to the frame. A small red LED flashed above it. He grabbed the sleeve of Katya’s fleece-lined denim jacket, stopping her.

‘What’s in here?’

‘I’m not sure. I think the studio.’

‘Is it now?’ Daniel paused, looking thoughtfully at the keypad.

‘It’s locked,’ Kat said impatiently. ‘It always is. Come on. We have to find Elena.’

‘I just want to try something. It won’t take a minute . . .’

‘Daniel!’

‘Sssh!’

Searching his memory, Daniel tapped in four numbers and mouthed a silent ‘Yes!’ as the flashing red light turned green and the lock clicked open.

Cautiously Daniel turned the knob. The room was in darkness, and when they were both inside, he switched on the light.

‘How did you know the numbers?’ Katya asked suspiciously.

‘It’s the same as the code for the office downstairs. I took a chance,’ he told her. ‘Well, well. Look at this little lot.’

The room was indeed a studio, and quite obviously not your average family portrait studio either. Centre-stage and surrounded by lighting equipment stood an enormous bed, opulently dressed in black and silver satin, with a handful of sheepskin throws scattered about. Four cameras stood around, set at varying heights. The filmmakers clearly weren’t intending to miss any of the action.

‘They are making films?’ Katya was staring at the bed, her lip curling.

‘Yeah, but not for general release,’ Daniel said, taking a slimline digital camera from his inside pocket and switching it on.

‘What are you doing?’ she hissed with growing impatience. ‘What about Elena?’

‘Just coming.’

Evidence-gathering was second nature to Daniel. You just never knew when it might be vital to a conviction. After taking a couple of shots, he glanced around the room, wishing he had time to investigate the cupboards and filing cabinets that were ranged against one wall, but a small sound from the direction of the door warned him that Katya’s patience had expired. When he swung round, he saw that she’d left the room.

Cursing under his breath, he slipped the camera back in his pocket and followed. In the corridor, a flash of the torch showed her disappearing round the corner at the end. He hurried after her, not daring to call out or even run in the silence of the house.

Halfway along the next side of the square, he came upon a narrow flight of stairs illuminated dimly by a light on the floor below. Kat was already partway down and he risked hissing a furious ‘Wait!’

Katya looked up and, to Daniel’s relief, did as she was told.

‘What the hell are you playing at?’ he demanded as he caught up with her, stepping carefully near to the wall to minimize any creaking of the old treads.

‘I have to find Elena. That’s what we came for.’

‘I know, but not like that. We must stay together. Now, let me go first.’

With a hint of sulkiness, Katya moved aside and Daniel went on down the stairs, pausing at the bottom to peer round the wall and check that the coast was clear.

‘Which way?’ he whispered over his shoulder.

Katya indicated right with a movement of her head, and the two of them set off once more.

In marked contrast to the top floor, this corridor was wider and by far more luxurious. The carpet, though by no means new, had obviously once been expensive, and lighting was in the form of pairs of bronze art deco wall lights with glass shades shaped like lilies.

As far as Daniel could see, there were no watching lenses. He supposed the ones in the hall below recorded all conventional visitors.

Kat tapped him on the shoulder, pointed and headed to the second door along.

‘This was our room. They’ve put locks on now,’ she whispered as Daniel caught up.

The lock in question was in fact no more than a crude hook and staple affair, and Kat lost no time in unfastening it and reaching for the handle. In an instant, Daniel’s hand covered hers.

‘Be careful!’

Kat shook him off and quietly opened the door, the borrowed light from the passageway faintly illuminating four beds, all occupied by girls or young women. None of the sleepers showed any sign of stirring as Kat tiptoed from one to another, trying to see their faces. Daniel held his breath. All it would take would be for one of the girls to wake and cry out and they could be in real trouble.

As he watched, Katya shook her head slightly and came back towards the door.

‘She’s not here.’ She looked shattered by the realization.

‘In one of the other rooms, maybe,’ Daniel suggested, feeling sorry for her but not surprised. Katya had always believed that finding Elena would be easy, just as long as they could get inside the house, and his warnings to the contrary had consistently fallen on deaf ears.

Kat brushed past him and out the door, going immediately to the next one along.

‘Katya, wait!’ Daniel was closing the first door as quickly and quietly as he could. As he moved to join her, they were both shocked into stillness by the unmistakable sound of a door shutting somewhere below them, followed by voices, male and female.

Although at first they couldn’t make out words, it was clear from the tone of the exchange that a heated row was in progress.

While Daniel hesitated, Kat pushed open the door to the second room and would have gone in if he hadn’t caught her arm.

‘Let me go!’ she whispered angrily.

‘There’s no time. We’ve got to leave.’

‘But she might be in here.’

‘She might be in any one of these rooms,’ Daniel pointed out. ‘We haven’t time to search them all.’

From the ground floor, a man’s voice carried clearly but incomprehensibly to Daniel. A glance at Katya’s face, however, told him that it wasn’t good news.

‘What did he say?’

‘It’s Anghel! He says he is coming up to check.’

‘To check what?’

‘He didn’t say.’ Kat paused as the woman’s voice was raised in reply. ‘She says not to blame her, it wasn’t her idea. And he says . . .’

‘Never mind that! In here, quickly.’ Daniel bundled her through the open door and pulled it close behind them, hoping against hope that the occupants hadn’t been woken by the shouting and so cry out in fear.

‘I can’t see. Lend me your torch,’ Kat whispered.

‘Are you mad?’ Daniel hissed back incredulously. ‘Stand still and shut up!’

Katya did as he said, and although he could almost feel the indignation radiating from her person, at that moment he didn’t care. Macek was on his way upstairs. Just what he was going to check up on, they couldn’t know. Pray God it wasn’t that all the doors were safely latched, because if it was, they were in big trouble. Even if it wasn’t, they would be lucky if he passed without noticing the hook hanging down.

If Macek did see it, then the best they could hope for was that he might assume it had been left undone by accident and lock it again, leaving them some breathing space to consider a plan of action. The worst – and most likely – scenario was that he would check the room out. With the light on, there would be nowhere to hide.

This in mind, Daniel let go of Kat and risked a quick flash of the torch at the ceiling. One shaded light, hanging dead centre. Moving swiftly but quietly, he reached up and removed the bulb before returning to his position by the door hinges.

‘He’s coming,’ Kat breathed. She reached for and held Daniel’s arm and he could feel her trembling.

The creaking of the Georgian floorboards heralded Macek’s approach and Daniel let out a long-held lungful of air as the heavy footsteps passed without stopping. Moments later, however, he froze again as the Romanian shouted out, just feet away.

‘What did he say?’ Daniel had to know.

‘He says to check the windows downstairs,’ Kat translated. ‘Why would he do that?’

Daniel frowned. Why indeed? Had Macek seen and recognized the Mercedes, parked back up the road? If so, he was more on the ball than Daniel had given him credit for.

When they heard Macek continue along the corridor and turn up the stairs, Daniel came to a rapid decision. Whether or not he found the window they had forced, they couldn’t stay where they were, and as their escape route to the roof was cut off, they had to take a chance on going down and getting past the woman without being seen.

‘Quickly!’ He grabbed Katya’s arm as he opened the door and, after a brief look up and down the passageway, pulled her after him as he set off towards the head of the main stairway.

‘But Elena . . .’

‘Not now!’

‘What if Yousef’s down there?’

‘We’ll deal with it somehow.’

Down the first flight of stairs, turn, three more and then down the flight that led to the hall. Still holding Katya’s hand, Daniel made straight for the front door.

‘Keep your head down,’ he instructed. ‘There’s a camera in the porch.’

But it seemed they were fated not to reach the porch, for as well as being double-bolted, the heavy Georgian front door had an old-fashioned lock and the key was missing.

Damn! They would have to escape via one of the windows.

‘Come on.’ Daniel turned Kat round and would have propelled her across the hall but all at once their way was barred by the flame-haired young woman Daniel had seen earlier that day. Her mane of curls tumbled around her shoulders and across her face as before, but now she wore a jade satin dress, which hugged her curvy figure. Her eyes were wide with fear.

‘Katya! Mamă de Dumnezeu! Are you mad?’

‘Marika!’ Katya took a step forward, speaking rapidly in her native tongue, gesturing towards the locked door, her tone pleading.

Marika looked from her to Daniel and back again, and her response was equally incomprehensible to him, but she seemed to have come to a decision. ‘Wait!’ she commanded and disappeared through an open doorway.

Katya turned to Daniel. ‘Anghel has taken the key, but she says there is another.’

‘Can we trust her? He could be back any moment.’

‘Yes, I think so.’

Seconds ticked by and Daniel glanced nervously at the stairs. ‘This is crazy – we should go . . .’

Just as he was on the point of moving, Marika reappeared, holding a key, which she pressed into Kat’s hand, speaking in English.

‘Go! And don’t ever come back. There’s nothing you can do for Elena. Forget her.’

Katya’s protest was cut short by a thunderous voice from upstairs.

‘Marika!’

She answered him in her own tongue and then, turning to Daniel and Kat, said, ‘Quickly. You must go!’

Katya rushed to the door, fitting the key into the lock with shaking hands, but Daniel hung back.

‘Come with us,’ he urged Marika.

‘I can’t.’ She shook her head vigorously, and under the curtain of her hair, Daniel noticed for the first time the purple line of an old scar running from the corner of her mouth to her cheekbone.

Vivid memories of an almost identical injury flashed across his mind, and the shock made him put out a hand.

‘Did he do that?’ he demanded, a cold fury rising.

She evaded his hand, shaking her hair forward again. ‘It was my fault.’

‘It’s never your fault,’ Daniel told her. ‘Come with us now – please.’

‘I can’t. Where would I go? I have nothing – no life but here.’

‘But you can’t stay here. I’ll help you, I promise.’

‘You don’t understand. The girls need me. And besides . . .’ She shrugged, her mouth trembling as a bittersweet smile flickered across her face. ‘I love him.’

‘Daniel! Come on! Hurry.’ Katya had the door open now and they could hear Macek’s heavy tread on the stairs.

With a sad shake of his head, Daniel started to turn away from Marika, then gritted his teeth, spun back and hit her.

The blow was hard enough to send her staggering back. She caught the bottom stair with her heel and sat down sharply, her hand flying to her face and her eyes swimming with tears.

Behind him, Katya cried out in shock, but Daniel ignored her. He paused long enough to see that Marika was all right, then turned and ran for the door, pushing a wide-eyed Katya ahead of him.

‘Go, go, go!’ he urged, as they burst out of the front door into the icy air.

Katya said little on the way back and Daniel was content to drive in silence, turning the events of the night over in his mind and trying to make sense of them.

Finding Hilary waiting with open arms and sympathy was enough to break Katya’s precarious control, however, and she sobbed her disappointment into the front of the older woman’s fleecy housecoat, while Hilary gently patted her back.

When the tears abated, Daniel gave Hilary a brief run-down of what had occurred, while she prepared milky cocoa on the Aga. She listened in silence, even though Daniel knew her mind must be buzzing with questions, but as he recounted the final part of the tale and Marika’s part in their escape, she swung round to stare.

‘Oh, bless her! What a brave girl.’

‘Daniel hit her,’ Katya cut in, her lip all but curling with contempt. ‘He knocked her down after she’d helped us.’

Hilary cast a quick look at Daniel. ‘Did he?’ she said. ‘Well, perhaps he knew she’d be in terrible trouble if this Macek character thought she’d helped you of her own free will.’

Daniel blessed her for her insight. ‘I tried to get her to come with us, but she wouldn’t,’ he said. ‘There wasn’t time for her to lock the door again.’

‘Do you think she’ll be all right?’ Hilary asked, handing the mugs round and sliding into a chair opposite Daniel and next to Kat.

He shrugged, remembering the scar. A man who could do that to a pretty face . . . He’d spared Hilary that detail.

‘I hope so.’

He cupped his cold fingers around his mug, taking a sip of the rich chocolatey liquid. The mug had a smiley frog on it, but it barely registered; he had long since ceased to be surprised by their hostess’s somewhat eclectic taste. In the warm haven of the kitchen, with the dog at his feet, he finally began to relax and felt, all at once, bone weary.

He turned to Katya. ‘How many girls are there at the house?’

Kat’s eyes dipped and for one exasperated moment, Daniel thought she was going to continue with the lies, but it seemed she realized the futility of it because after a moment she said dully, ‘I don’t know. Twenty – maybe thirty. They come and go.’

‘Thirty?’ Hilary exclaimed looking from one to the other. ‘What on earth? Oh, no, not a . . . a brothel? Surely not here.’

‘Why not here?’ Daniel was amused. ‘Are all Devon men celibate?’

‘Of course not, but I mean . . .’ Hilary stopped, confused.

Daniel rescued her. ‘It’s a common misconception that prostitution is confined to the big towns and cities. People are absolutely horrified to discover that the house just round the corner on their estate is actually a knocking shop. Half a dozen teenagers in a council house, an adult to take care of the business side of things and Bob’s your uncle – or rather, your client.

‘But, having said that, I should think Moorside is a bit too remote. I think we’re looking at part of a big organization here. It’s probably more of a holding house for the girls before they’re shipped on to their final destinations, or perhaps taken for nights out to the cities – working, of course. Am I right?’ he asked Katya. ‘Were you brought here as soon as you arrived in the country?’

Kat nodded, not meeting his eyes.

‘But your father . . . ?’ Hilary was understandably bewildered.

‘Yes, well, I’m afraid Patrescu is no more Katya’s father than I am,’ Daniel said dryly. ‘Yousef Patrescu and his mate Macek are traffickers, bringing girls into the country from Eastern Europe for prostitution.’

‘We didn’t know!’ Katya burst out. ‘He said he could find work for me as a waitress or in a hotel. He said Elena was so pretty she could make lots of money modelling. He said we would be able to send money home to our family – more than we ever dreamed of . . .’

‘Oh, Kat.’ Hilary moved closer and put her arm round the girl’s shoulders.

Katya looked up at her with tears in her eyes. ‘You think we were stupid, but we all believed him, even my mother. We had to believe him. I come from a very big family. We are very poor.’

Daniel wondered how much the girls’ mother had really known. Had she been taken in as Katya believed, or had she sacrificed two children for the benefit of the others? It was sadly far from uncommon for parents with large families to support. Had Patrescu in fact bought Katya and her sister from their mother? He thought it quite possible but kept it to himself.

‘We don’t think you’re stupid,’ Hilary reassured the girl, throwing a speaking glance Daniel’s way.

‘No, it’s not your fault. They’re pros,’ he responded. ‘They’ll have done it hundreds of times before.’

‘Patrescu got passports for us, but when we got here, he took them away. He said we owed him money for the journey. He said we had to work for him until we could pay him back. That’s when he brought us to the house.’

‘Was it just you and your sister?’

Katya shook her head. ‘No, there were eight of us. They put us in a van. We were very frightened, except for one girl. She told us she used to work for Patrescu in Romania. She told us what she did . . .’ She sniffed and Hilary handed her a handkerchief. ‘It was like a bad dream. Elena didn’t really understand, but she was scared and couldn’t stop crying. Then her breathing got bad. She was . . .’ Unable to find the words, Katya put her hand on her chest and went through the actions of someone struggling for air.

‘Wheezing,’ Hilary supplied. ‘Poor girl. That must have been terrifying for both of you.’

‘It was,’ Kat agreed. ‘And when we got to the house, they told us that if we tried to run away with no papers, the police would put us straight in jail. He told us things about women’s jails. Horrible things . . .’ She faltered to a stop, looking distressed.

‘He lied,’ Daniel said flatly. ‘Girls like you and Elena are the victims in this, and you’d be treated as such if you went to the police. You wouldn’t be sent to jail, I can promise you.’

‘How can you be so sure?’ Katya demanded.

‘Just believe me. They were using your fear to control you. Sometimes they use drugs. Once the girls are hooked, they’ll do anything to get their fix. They give up any thought of running and of course become deeper and deeper in debt.’

‘Oh my God!’ Hilary exclaimed, leaning away from Katya, the better to see her. ‘They didn’t . . . ?’

Kat shook her head. ‘Some of the girls were talking about it, though. And Marika said if we caused trouble, that’s what would happen. She also said Elena and I were going to be split up – that’s why we had to get away when we did.’

‘I still find it hard to believe,’ Hilary said. ‘I mean, with someone Katya’s age it’s bad enough, but a twelve-year-old girl.’ Her face reflected her disgust.

Katya looked at Daniel. ‘I heard Anghel and Yousef talking about Elena and another girl called Molly. She is only ten, but her mother is dead.’

‘Yes, I met Molly this afternoon,’ he murmured.

‘Yousef called them cash cows. What did he mean?’

Daniel hesitated, but only for a moment. For all her tender years, Kat had been through a lot over the last couple of weeks. It was a bit late to start shielding her now.

‘Some men will pay a lot – and I mean a lot – for a pretty, innocent young girl. A little girl that no one else has ever touched and never will. Wealthy businessmen – outwardly respectable – keeping a little plaything for their sick amusement. A little refugee from abroad – no one to know, no one to look for her . . .’

‘You don’t mean they buy them?’ Hilary gasped. ‘That’s . . . that’s inhuman!’

‘Unfortunately, there’s very little that isn’t human,’ Daniel said wearily. ‘You only have to turn on the news.’

He stared into his half-empty mug, feeling depressed and thinking of starting work at eight o’clock the next morning. The hands of the clock above the dresser pointed to half past three. He supposed Hilary would have to be up early too, and said so.

She sighed, putting aside emotional issues for practical ones. ‘Yes, we should all be getting to bed. Daniel, you’ll sleep here, won’t you? I made a bed up in one of the guest rooms earlier.’

‘But what about Elena?’ Katya exclaimed. ‘Don’t you care? You know what they’ll do with her. We can’t just leave her there. She’s my sister! What are we going to do?’

‘Of course I care, but we can’t do anything tonight,’ Daniel said reasonably. ‘Right now I need some sleep, even if you don’t. We’ll talk about it in the morning.’

‘Hi. Is that Yvonne? Could I speak to Jono, please?’

It was lunchtime. Daniel had parked up at a truck stop and had put a call through to one-time friend and partner Detective Constable Paul ‘Jono’ Johnson. Jono’s wife had answered. Daniel pictured her plump, curvy figure, blonde highlights and oh-so-perfect nails.

‘He’s here,’ she said, ‘but he’s down the garden. Hang on a moment and I’ll take the phone out.’ There was the sound of a door opening and the acoustics changed as Yvonne Johnson spoke again. ‘He’s messing about in his shed. You men and your bloody sheds! Er, sorry, who is it speaking?’

Daniel hesitated but could see no option other than the truth. ‘It’s Daniel Whelan.’

‘Oh. Daniel.’ The temperature dropped to cool. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m fine. Overworked and underpaid, of course.’ He supposed pride had made him add that to show that he was standing on his own two feet and no object for pity. Immediately he was annoyed that he’d felt the need to.

‘Amanda says you’re driving a truck.’

Bugger Amanda!

‘It’s a bit more than that. Actually, I’m quite enjoying it.’

‘Oh good,’ Yvonne said vaguely, and Daniel had the strong impression that she was wishing she’d asked his identity before confirming that her husband was home. The days of their cosy dinner parties as a foursome with Daniel and Amanda were clearly well and truly consigned to history.

‘I’ll just pass you over,’ she said then, and Daniel heard her say faintly, ‘It’s Daniel Whelan.’

‘Daniel? What does he want?’ Jono’s voice was also quiet.

‘Well, I don’t know, do I? Just take it, will you?’

A short pause, then, jovially, ‘Daniel. Hi! How are you?’

‘I’m good. You?’

‘Yes, fine, fine.’ He paused. ‘So, long time no hear. Where’ve you been?’

‘I rang a couple of times, left a message,’ Daniel reminded him mildly.

‘Yeah, sorry. Things have been a bit manic – you know how it is. Anyway . . . ?’

‘I wondered if you could do me a favour. Run a couple of checks for me.’

There was a pause, the silence resonating with reluctance.

‘Look, Dan, I wish I could, but things are a bit difficult right now . . .’

‘It’s just a couple of PNC checks. Five minutes on the computer, no more – who’s to know?’

‘Dan, I can’t risk it. I’m up for my sergeant’s exam in a week or two.’

‘Oh, congratulations.’

‘Yeah, thanks. But you can see why I have to be careful. I mean, you know how Paxton feels about you. If he thought I’d been using the PNC on your behalf, well . . .’

‘But he’d never know if you didn’t tell him.’

‘Oh, he’d find out somehow.’

‘Please, Jono – this could be big. It could be to your advantage.’

‘I don’t know . . .’

For the first time Jono sounded less than obdurate, and Daniel pressed on.

‘Does the name Yousef Patrescu mean anything to you?’

Another pause.

‘Patrescu? I don’t think so. Why?’

He was lying; Daniel was sure of it.

‘How about Anghel Macek?’

‘What do you want to know?’

It seemed Jono was finally wavering, but Daniel had reckoned without Yvonne.

‘Paul, no!’ she said quite clearly in the background and he did an immediate about-turn.

‘I’m sorry, Dan. I really can’t help you. We practically have to wash our mouths out with soap if we so much as mention your name. Look, why don’t you try one of your old mates at the Dog Unit? What about old Joey Suzuki?’ he asked, using a common and deliberate mispronunciation of the man’s name. ‘I heard he’s working your spaniel now.’

‘Is he?’ Daniel was pleased. He didn’t know the man particu-­larly well, but he’d worked alongside Jo-Ji Matsuki a time or two and he had a nice way about him with his dogs. ‘Thanks. Maybe I’ll do that.’

‘And look, Dan, if you’re on to something, you really should report it, you know,’ Johnson said.

‘On to something, Officer?’ Daniel repeated dryly. ‘I have no idea what you mean.’

He rang off, and sat looking out of the cab window to where three men stood drinking hot beverages under the awning of the burger bar.

So, Joey had Bella, did he? Bella was a six-year-old black cocker spaniel, and one of the best drugs dogs in the area. Daniel had been gutted to lose her when he’d been taken off the Dog Unit. At the time he could only thank God that Taz had been forced to retire early and was therefore beyond his superiors’ vindictive reach.

His thoughts slid back to Drew, as they had every few minutes throughout the day. In spite of his promise to speak to Amanda that morning, she had so far not answered or returned his calls. With little optimism, he keyed in her number once more, only to listen to the same bright, impersonal message. She was out, but if he left a message, she would call. Or not, he thought sourly as he cut the connection. Why wasn’t she calling? Did she know what he wanted to talk about? Surely she knew they would have to discuss it sooner or later.

The alluring scent of sizzling beef found its way through the part-open window and he realized how hungry he was. Breakfast had been at seven o’clock, just three hours after he’d finally got to bed, and he’d shared the table with Hilary, who’d looked as heavy-eyed as he’d felt. Katya had been left to sleep on, for which Daniel was grateful. However much sympathy he felt for her – and that was a hell of a lot – he could well do without her persistent questions at that time in the morning.

As it turned out, Hilary had questions of her own.

‘In my day, a comprehensive knowledge of sex-trafficking wasn’t part of the HGV test,’ she had observed, tipping creamy porridge into dishes from the saucepan. ‘It seems Kat isn’t the only one who’s been keeping secrets. How long were you in the police force, or are you still?’

Daniel shook his head. ‘I left three months ago.’

‘Because?’

‘I’d always wanted to be a lorry driver?’ he suggested fatuously.

She sensibly ignored him. ‘You don’t strike me as a quitter, you’re too young to have retired, and if it wasn’t your vocation, then why would you have thrown yourself behind Katya’s cause? Unless . . .’ She froze in the act of sprinkling sugar liberally on her oats and fixed him with a suspicious gaze.

‘What?’ Daniel demanded. Then as the light dawned, ‘Oh God, no! I’m not into cradle-snatching – teenagers have way too many moods and tantrums. Besides, there’s Tamzin.’

‘Is there?’ Hilary asked mildly, apparently returning her attention to her breakfast. She blew on a steaming spoonful. ‘I forgot to tell you she phoned yesterday, wanting to know if I’d seen you. She said you hadn’t answered her texts.’

Daniel felt guilty. ‘Yeah, I know. I just didn’t get round to it, what with one thing and another. I’ll see her this afternoon, anyway. I’m delivering to the stables.’

Hilary made a face. ‘And that’s going to make it all right?’

‘OK. Point taken. I’ll call her.’

Recalling the conversation later, as he sat in his cab, Daniel phoned Tamzin and left a voice message, apologizing for his silence, saying he’d missed her. Then, postponing the decision as to whether or not to ring Jo-Ji Matsuki, he climbed down from the lorry and went in search of a burger with all the trimmings, followed closely by Taz, who wasn’t about to be left out if there was food on offer.

Driving home at the end of the day, Daniel could hardly keep his eyes open. Quarry Farm Racing Stables had been his last delivery, and he’d stayed to have a coffee with Tamzin before evening stables. She had been cheerful – maybe too cheerful, Daniel reflected – and hadn’t made any reference to his lack of communication. When he brought the subject up, she’d dismissed it, saying they had probably both been busy. Daniel was grateful for her understanding.

It was half past eight when he turned the Mercedes into the weedy gravel drive that ran to one side of the former lawnmower shop and followed it round to the car park at the back. A light came on at his approach, illuminating the unlovely 1970s brick building with the paint peeling from its window frames, and the cracked concrete apron below.

He parked, nose in, and went to the back of the car, finding Taz in an apparent frenzy to get out.

‘Steady on,’ he told the dog as he lifted the tailgate. ‘What’s the matter? Desperate for a pee?’

Taz leaped out, almost knocking him aside in his eagerness, and tore across the concrete, his bark silenced now that action was on the cards. At the perimeter fence, he hardly paused before finding a place to squeeze under the wooden panels, his bushy tail the last thing Daniel saw of him as he disappeared.

Retrieving his torch from the car, Daniel followed, bending down to shine the beam through the gap Taz had found, but he could see nothing other than grass and brambles. Beyond the fence was a field of rough grazing, accessed by a gate into a narrow side road, so there was little point in trying to follow the dog, who would no doubt have put the fear of God into whoever or whatever he’d chased. Confirmation of this came seconds later, when Daniel heard a vehicle start up and move away in something of a hurry.

As the sound of the engine faded, Daniel whistled the dog and presently Taz returned and began padding up and down on the other side of the fence, snuffling excitedly.

‘Come on, lad. Good boy!’ Daniel said, and Taz obediently reappeared, panting heavily, a dead blackberry spray caught in his tail. As always, when the dog had been working, Daniel produced a tug toy from his pocket and played with him for a moment as his reward for a job well done, after which Taz trotted happily at his heels as he locked the car and made his way up to the flat.

The dog showed interest in the outside door and its handle, which suggested whoever had been there had tried it to see if it was locked. However, there was no sign that anyone had attempted to break in, and inside, the dog displayed none of the excitement Daniel would have associated with the scent of an intruder. It seemed most likely that the visitor or visitors had been disturbed by Daniel’s arrival and, having had a taste of the dog, would be unlikely to return.

Daniel fed Taz and then unwrapped the fish and chips he’d bought on the way home. Taking a can of beer from the fridge, he took his meal and settled in front of the computer to check his email.

As the machine ticked and whirred into action, Daniel’s heart sank as he saw no less than three emails from Drew among the dross the service provider failed to filter out. With a sigh, he started to read, sitting in the pool of light cast by the desk lamp, the earlier drama forgotten.

Two of them had been sent since their telephone conversation the previous night and they all followed a predictable theme, loaded with pleas backed up by childish reasoning, and Daniel was left saddened and frustrated by his inability to get Drew to understand the impossibility of his request.

Honouring his promise to ring after school, Daniel rang Drew’s mobile, bracing himself for the expected familiar argument. He was surprised and relieved to hear a very upbeat young voice answer.

‘Dad. Hi.’ It sounded as though a Grand Prix was going on in the background.

‘Hiya. I said I’d call. What are you up to?’

‘We’re go-karting and it’s fab!’

‘Who’s we?’

‘Me, Amanda and Ryan. And, Dad, Mum even had a go.’

‘Did she?’ Daniel said, impressed. She was clearly making an effort.

‘Yeah, but she was useless.’

‘So, is it Ryan’s birthday or something?’

‘No. Amanda just said it would be fun, and it is – it’s awesome!’ The sound of engines rose to a crescendo as the karts revved up. ‘Look, Dad, I’ve got to go. I’m in the race after this one. It’s the semi-final,’ he added proudly.

‘Oh, well done! OK. I’ll ring you tomorrow. Now go and win that race for me.’

Thoughtfully, Daniel rang off. Was this surprise outing an effort by Amanda to get Drew onside after upsetting him with talk of moving back to Bristol? Had she read his email’s ‘sent’ folder and been alarmed by the content of his messages to Daniel? He couldn’t imagine that go-karting had ever featured on Amanda’s wish list. Whatever the case, it obviously hadn’t been the moment to broach the subject of the proposed move with her.

Daniel brought up an online telephone directory and entered ‘Matsuki’ and ‘Bristol’. Unsurprisingly, there was only one entry, and after taking a mental deep breath, Daniel phoned the listed number.

‘Hello?’ A female, young and unmistakably oriental.

‘Hi. Um, could I speak to Joey, please?’

‘I’m sorry, Jo-Ji is not here.’

‘Oh. When would be a good time to call?’

‘Who is it speaking?’

‘Daniel Whelan. I used to work with Joey. I believe he’s got my dog Bella now . . .’

‘Yes, he has Bella, but Daniel, I’m sorry, Jo-Ji is in hospital. He was in a road accident three days ago and he has to stay for at least another week, they say.’

Daniel passed on his commiserations and, ringing off a minute or two later, sighed and shook his head.

‘Buggered again, Taz,’ he said. ‘So what now, huh?’

Taz looked up under his brows without lifting his head. He was more interested in Daniel’s meal than the conversation.

Had Jono known that Matsuki was out of commission when he made the suggestion? Daniel wondered, feeding Taz a chunk of fish. Probably not. It was probably just fate having a laugh again.

So what now? There were other people – ex-colleagues – he could call, but his conversation with Jono had left him wary.

Damn Naylor! If he’d been clean, the problem wouldn’t exist, but the possibility of the sergeant’s connection with Patrescu was one Daniel couldn’t afford to disregard.

The idea of blowing the whistle on Naylor was dismissed without consideration. Even supposing Daniel – with the black marks already against his name – could get anyone at Yelverton to listen to him, it would be messy. Word would spread like wildfire in a provincial station like that and Naylor would just as swiftly warn Patrescu. By the time anything was done about Moorside House – if anything were done – the Romanians, the girls and the evidence would be long gone.

If that happened, Daniel knew, Katya could kiss goodbye to her little sister for good.