Ridpath and Sophia walked down the road, finding the bungalow tucked into a small enclave at the end. The front garden was neatly manicured with a parked Hyundai SUV in the driveway.
Ridpath put his hand on the bonnet. ‘Still warm, somebody has recently come back.’
They rang the bell and stepped away. Inside the yapping of a small dog could be heard, followed by, ‘Shut up, Percy, it’s only somebody at the door.’
A figure appeared, distorted by the frosted glass. ‘Who is it?’
‘Is this Mr Brooks?’
‘It is, who is it?’
‘It’s the police, Mr Brooks. Could you open the door so we can have a chat?’
‘How do I know it’s the police? I’ve heard about these scams. Old folk open the door and suddenly they are being sold conservatories, or worse.’
‘I’ll post my warrant card through the letterbox. You take a look at it.’
Ridpath opened the flap and dropped his warrant card in, receiving an answer almost immediately. ‘Looks right enough.’
The door opened. A man stood in the hallway, his hand clutched to the collar of a small dog of indeterminate breed that was desperately lunging forward, its teeth bared.
‘Don’t worry about her, she’s just being friendly.’
‘Looks like it.’
‘How can I help you?’
‘If we could come in for a minute and have a chat…’
‘Can’t let you in. The dog, she’s—’
‘Too friendly?’
‘Summat like that.’
‘My name is Detective Inspector Ridpath, and this is my assistant, Sophia Rahman. We’re investigating the disappearance of Jane Ryder in 2009.’
‘You’re still checking on her after so long? Perhaps I should have reported the disappearance of Andrea.’
‘What?’
‘Andrea Briggs, our foster child.’
‘Sorry, Mr Brooks, Andrea has disappeared?’
The little dog lunged again and the man struggled to hold her back by the collar. ‘Just a minute, I’ll put her in with the wife.’
He dragged the dog reluctantly down the hallway, opened a door and popped it into a room. Instantly, Ridpath could hear scratching and yelping as the dog desperately tried to get out.
‘She’ll give up soon enough. The wife’ll calm her down.’
‘You were saying your foster daughter disappeared, Mr Brooks?’ Sophia asked the question gently.
‘Haven’t heard from her since 2012. Said she was leaving one day and never came back.’
Ridpath glanced back at Sophia, who was taking notes. ‘No letters, phone calls or emails?’
‘Nothing. Vanished into thin air. We were expecting it though.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, she’d been acting strangely for a long time, ever since Jane disappeared three years earlier. If I’m honest, Mr Ridpath, we were glad to see her go. We had other kids to look after and she was being disruptive.’
‘Did you report it to the police?’
‘No, what was the point? She was seventeen and could do what she wanted.’
‘And you haven’t heard from her since?’
‘No.’ The dog’s noises subsided and they heard a woman’s voice gently chastising it. ‘By the end, well, she didn’t like us, and the missus and I didn’t like her much either. You don’t have much choice with the foster kids. Some you take to, others you don’t. Bit like people.’
‘How long did she live with you?’ Sophia asked.
‘She was already quite old, eleven, I think, when she came to us after the home she was in closed.’
Ridpath knew the answer to his next question but asked it anyway. ‘Which home was that?’
‘Daisy House, the one in Northenden.’
Everything leads back to the same place, thought Ridpath, like a homing beacon.
Sophia asked another question while he was thinking about the last answer. ‘Did you report her disappearance to anybody?’
‘Of course, we had to, didn’t we?’
‘Who?’
‘Her social worker. She had to know, didn’t she?’
Again, Ridpath knew the answer to the next question before he asked it. ‘What was the name of the social worker?’
‘Patricia Patterson. She looked after all the kids from the home.’