‘That’s definitely him,’ said Okeke, looking at the same page on her phone and zooming in on his face.

  ‘Ledger,’ Minter said with a sigh. ‘Just a couple of bloody letters.’

  ‘Don’t beat yourself up,’ Boyd said. It was all too easy to do: throw a smokescreen up by changing your name. In Richard Leeder’s case, it seemed, with the minimum of effort and imagination.

  ‘I’ll hit Facebook and the other socials again,’ said Warren. ‘See if I can find any accounts under that name.’

  Boyd nodded. ‘You do that. O’Neal? Can you chase up Whitehead’s old phone records on the Interpol portal?’

  ‘Yes, chief.’

  He beckoned Okeke and Minter over. ‘We need to reach out to Leeder. But softly, softly. Let’s not spook him with any “you’re the prime suspect” stuff. If he’s rich, then he could be very, shall we say… mobile.’

  ‘So likely to rush to the Bat Cave and make off and away in his Bat-copter?’ said Minter.

  Boyd gave him a look that wiped the grin from Minter’s face. He still wasn’t in the mood for banter. ‘All we need to share with him is that we’re looking at an old misper case,’ he said.

  ‘Which one do we pick?’ asked Minter.

  ‘Robin Whitehead,’ Boyd replied. ‘The most recent one and the one that we’re most likely to be looking into. We don’t mention the lock-up; we don’t mention Meadows or Westfield.’

  Minter nodded. ‘Do you want me to make the call, boss…?’

  Boyd was tempted to do it himself, but decided not to for a couple of reasons. His head wasn’t fully in the game with the make-or-break CT scan due in a couple of days. He wasn’t sharp enough to make a call where he was going to have to judge every word he uttered on the fly. Also, given that he’d just recommended both Minter and Okeke for promotions, it made sense to take a step back and give them the space to prove themselves.

  ‘Yes. Okay, Minter, you make the call. Woo him with your Welsh charm.’

  Okeke looked disappointed.

  ‘We’ll need you when we bring him in, Okeke,’ Boyd said. ‘You’re more of a Rottweiler.’ He glanced at Minter. ‘He’s more approachable Lab.’

  She nodded. ‘Fair.’

  He looked at his watch. It was approaching 5 p.m. Richard Leeder/Ledger would be in his London Head office, winding down from the day’s work, perhaps a little tired, perhaps thinking about what he was going to get up to this evening, certainly not expecting an out-of-the-blue call from the police.

  ‘May I speak to Richard Ledger?’ Minter asked.

  ‘Who can I say is calling?’ replied his PA.

  ‘It’s Steven Minter.’ Minter decided to keep his CID rank out of things until he’d been put through.

  He had to endure several seconds of Coldplay while on hold before the call clicked through.

  ‘Richard Ledger speaking.’

  Minter had the call on speakerphone so that Okeke and Boyd could hear the exchange and jot down any prompts or notes.

  ‘My name’s Steven Minter and I’m a detective sergeant with East Sussex CID,’ he said.

  ‘Okay,’ Leeder replied. ‘How can I help you?’

  ‘I’m looking into a recent misper case…’ Minter began.

  ‘Miss-per?’ Leeder asked.

  ‘Sorry.’ Minter mustered a relaxed laugh. ‘It’s our shorthand for “missing persons”.’

  ‘Right, I see. Okay?’ Leeder sounded guarded. ‘Who are you looking for and how can I help?’

  ‘We’re investigating the disappearance of a Mr Robin Whitehead,’ Minter said. ‘I believe he’s an employee of yours?’ The error was deliberate.

  ‘Nobody works here, or should I say, has worked here by that name, I’m afraid,’ Leeder said.

  ‘My mistake,’ Minter said. ‘I think, looking at my notes, he was due to start at your company, but never turned up?’

  He heard Ledger take in a deep breath. This was followed by a long pause. ‘Ahh, right… yes. I do recall. Yeah, if I remember correctly, I offered him a sales job, but he didn’t bother to turn up. I’m not a big fan of unreliable people. If you can’t even make your first day on time, then I’m afraid you’re not going to be any use to me.’

  ‘Did you attempt to contact him?’ Minter asked.

  ‘I honestly can’t remember. I might have had someone from HR chase him up and tell him not to bother coming in the next day, but… no. I’m afraid beyond that I don’t think I can tell you anything useful. Is there anything else? Because… I’m actually getting ready to go home.’

  ‘I’ve just got a couple of other questions, if that’s okay?’

  ‘Sure,’ Leeder replied.

  Okay. Careful now, Minty boy.

  ‘So, we managed to access Robin Whitehead’s Facebook page and found your name among his friends list…’ Out of the corner of his eye he could see Boyd nodding. So far so good.

  ‘Really?’ Another pause. ‘Well, I suppose, I’m not that surprised. I use my page to promote my company, as a sort of calling card if you will. If someone makes a friend request, provided it’s not another Lucy Lastique or Pamela Randerson or…’

  ‘Rhea Rend,’ suggested Minter. ‘Alotta Winkie…’

  Boyd frowned. Get on with it.

  Ledger laughed. ‘Exactly. It’s good to know these sexbots reach our law enforcement’s Facebook pages too.’

  Minter laughed along with him. ‘Well, anyway, Richard… I was talking about your personal page… the one under your original name. Richard Leeder.’

  There was a protracted silence from the other end.

  ‘Mr Leeder?’

  Finally… ‘Yes, that’s my old page. I haven’t used that one in years.’ The easy bonhomie had gone now.

  ‘Robin Whitehead appears to have been a Facebook friend of yours going all the way back to 2010,’ Minter remarked.

  ‘Really? Wow. Time flies, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it does. So apart from this Facebook connection, did you have any other association with Robin Whitehead at all?’

  ‘Uh… let me think…’

  Boyd scribbled something down on a pad and turned it round. He’s stalling. Give him some time.

  Minter nodded and waited patiently.

  ‘I… I think… yes, I think he possibly went to the same school as me. That’s it. He must have looked me up or recognised me. Then later he approached me for a job.’

  ‘And how did he approach you exactly?’ Minter asked.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. I get CVs all the time. I must have liked the look of his; I vaguely recall there was a brief chat over Skype. He seemed like the right kind of stuff. It’s all about personalities here, DS Minter. People skills, right? He obviously managed to charm me.’ Minter heard him sigh. ‘More fool me, eh? Anyway, look, I’ve got a train to –’

  ‘Can I ask you one last question?’ Minter asked.

  ‘Go on. If it’s quick.’

  ‘Why the name change, Mr Leeder?’

  Leeder sighed. ‘It’s a brand thing. Optics right. “Ledger” scans better than “Leeder”. Looks better on a business card, looks better over the front door of my offices. This business is all about appearances and confidence, you understand?’

  Boyd scribbled down another message. Wrap it up, now.

  ‘All right, well, I think that’s all we need for now,’ Minter said. ‘Thank you for your assistance, Mr Ledger.’

  ‘I hope you find him,’ Ledger replied, and the call disconnected.

  Minter let out a huge sigh of relief.

  Okeke was the first to speak. ‘Well, now, that was clearly a load of evasive BS, wasn’t it?’

  Boyd nodded.

  ‘So what next, boss? Because he’s going to be on high alert now,’ Minter pointed out.

  Okeke agreed. ‘He’s a flight risk, for sure.’

  Boyd disagreed. ‘No, not necessarily. If he bolts, then that really is evidence of guilt. And I think you sounded woolly enough on the phone to make him think we’re a way off pinning anything on him just yet.’ He looked at Minter. ‘Nicely done, by the way.’

  Minter beamed.

  ‘The problem is,’ Boyd continued, ‘we don’t have enough yet to get a thirty-six-hour detention or charge him.’ He stroked his chin absently. ‘But I reckon Leeder… Ledger will definitely be weighing up whether or not to appear to be fully cooperative.’

  Boyd checked his watch – it was five past five. He suspected Leeder was probably not rushing for a train but sitting behind his desk pondering his next move, as was Boyd.

  ‘We need him face to face,’ he said.

  ‘Then he really will think we’ve got something on him,’ said Okeke.

  ‘Well, let’s play dumb. Let him think we’re after someone else. Minter, get him back on the phone with a “just one more thing”.’

  ‘Which is?’ Minter asked.

  ‘Tell him we have someone we think may have something to do with Whitehead’s disappearance. Alan Smithee. Tell him we’ve got a photo of this chap and we need him to pop down and take a look at it. If he’s keen to make a show of being cooperative, he’ll hopefully jump at the chance. Then while we have him with us… we’ll ask him for a DNA swab.’

  ‘Well, that will definitely mean the game’s up,’ said Minter.

  Boyd nodded. ‘Yes, but if he refuses the swab, that’ll be enough of an evasion for us to apply for thirty-six hours’ detention.’ He smiled. ‘Then we can hit him with everything we’ve got.’

  38

  Boyd lay perfectly still as the bed of the CT scanner slowly entered the doughnut-shaped cocoon.

  ‘Now please relax and no moving around,’ came a voice from a speaker inside the unit.

  ‘Not that I’ve got much choice,’ he muttered. He gazed up at the smooth white plastic hood, only a half a dozen inches above his face.

  The speaker crackled again. ‘We’re ready to start, William. This won’t take long. Just listen to the instructions coming from the machine, all right?’

  A few moments passed, then a pre-recorded female voice, with an unexpected Lancashire twang, told him to ‘breathe in and hold’.

  He took a deep breath, wondering for how long exactly he was supposed to hold it.

  Last night he’d managed to successfully argue Charlotte and Emma into not coming with him. If he was going to get bad news this morning, he wanted a chance to process it alone. And if it was bad news, he didn’t want to break down in front of Emma. Because he couldn’t very well tell Emma that Charlotte could come but not her, he’d made the case for going alone. He’d also stressed that he needed to hurry straight into work afterwards as he had an important interview to lead – which was true.

  Five minutes later it was all done and he was back in the control room putting his jacket back on and lacing up his shoes.

  ‘So when will I know the results?’ he asked the radiographer – Stewart, according to his name badge.

  ‘It’ll go straight to the oncology department for analysis and they’ll be in touch once they have the results for you,’ Stewart told him.

  Dammit. He’d been hoping for some answers this morning. Now he had another bloody wait to contend with. He looked at the young man who’d been operating the scanner, with his threadbare hipster goatee, a topknot of hair tucked away beneath a hairnet.

  ‘You must have an idea whether I’m riddled with tumours or not, right?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Stewart replied. ‘I’m not qualified to give you a clinical analysis.’

  ‘But you’ve got an idea, right?’ he repeated. ‘I mean, you must have done a fair few of these…’

  Stewart shook his head. ‘I’m really sorry, I can’t tell you. You’ll get a call from the oncology department very soon.’

  Boyd finished double-looping his laces and looked up at the young man; his patience was beginning to wear thin. More to the point, the gnawing anxiety that he’d been doing his best to keep a lid on for the last week was beginning to cause him stomach pains. The last time he recalled having ‘tummy worry’ to the point of feeling sick was when he’d been under threat of expulsion from school for bringing in a pack of B&H fags.

  ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Just an indication… A smile or a frown would do it…’

  Stewart gestured towards the door. ‘Take care now,’ he said as he walked Boyd over.

  As Boyd stepped out of the control room, he thought he caught the faintest glimmer of a smile on Stewart’s face as he closed the door on him.

  Whether that was an answer or a response to his pleading, Boyd couldn’t tell.

  Dammit. He was taking that as a positive sign.

  He rang Charlotte as he traipsed around the hospital car park, trying to remember where he’d parked his bloody Captur.

  ‘They didn’t say anything?’ she repeated.

  ‘Nope,’ Boyd told her. ‘Not a word.’

  ‘Oh, God. More waiting.’ She sounded as fed up as he felt. ‘How are you doing, Bill?’

  ‘I’m okay… I’m okay, actually,’ he said.

  ‘It’s just such a wretched nightmare,’ she murmured. He could hear her herding her own emotions into something that sounded vaguely positive. ‘Look. Whatever the result, remember, the consultant said that staying positive is really important.’

  ‘Right.’

  He finally spotted the cobalt-blue hood of his car and clicked the key fob. The lights blinked a ‘hello there’ in response. ‘I know. I’ve got a good feeling about this. I badgered the poor techie,’ he confessed.

  ‘And?’

  ‘He couldn’t say anything officially, but he gave me a smile.’

  ‘Oh God… that’s a good sign!’ Charlotte said.

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Just a bit longer, Bill. Then we’ll know what we’re dealing with.’

  ‘I know,’ he replied, pulling the door open and climbing in. ‘Onwards and upwards, eh?’

  ‘Onwards and upwards,’ she repeated. ‘I’ll let Emma know.’

  He ended the call and slumped in the seat. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake…’

  He’d forgotten to pay for his bloody parking ticket.

  Boyd dumped the car keys on his desk and his jacket on the back of his chair. ‘Has Ledger arrived yet?’ he asked.

  Minter and Okeke came over, both carrying their notes. ‘I just plonked him in Room Two with a coffee and a Twix, boss. We’re good to go when you are,’ Minter told him.

  Interview Room Two was the only one with a mirrored observation window. He was going to watch through that while Minter and Okeke ran the interview. Minter was going to buddy up to Ledger, while Okeke was going to go in harder when the time was right. He would prompt them both by text message, if needed.

  ‘Good. Then let’s crack on,’ he said.

  Minter led the way. Okeke drew up beside Boyd. ‘You seem in a better mood this morning,’ she said softly. ‘Good news?’

  He nodded. ‘I think so.’

  39

  ‘All right, then,’ started Minter. ‘First of all, thanks for coming all the way down from London this morning, Richard. I know it’s all a bit of a faff.’

  Richard Ledger nodded. ‘You could say that.’

  ‘So, this is DC Samantha Okeke. And, of course, I’m DS Steven Minter. We both work on missing persons cases. In this instance, the person missing is Robin Whitehead.’

  ‘Business is slow down here, I’m guessing, eh?’ Ledger said.

  ‘Sorry?’ Minter asked.

  Richard smiled. He’d obviously decided to go with easy, convivial confidence. ‘Working on missing persons, I mean? Rather than, I don’t know, knocking down doors, arresting drug kingpins, that sort of thing.’

  Minter laughed. ‘Oh, it’s not like that down here in Hastings, is it, DC Okeke? There’s never much going on here. Maybe the occasional pinched handbag.’

  Ledger sipped his coffee. The Twix remained untouched.

  ‘Well then, Richard. The first thing I have to do is a bit of box-ticking, see. I’d like to reassure you that you’re not a suspect in any crime and you’re not under caution. We just want you to have a look at that photograph I mentioned yesterday.’

  ‘Right. That’s no problem,’ Ledger said, settling back in his chair.

  ‘But, before we get to that, there are just a couple of little things I want to get clear in my head… if that’s all right with you?’

  Boyd shook his head and smiled. Minter must have watched a few episodes of Columbo last night, he thought.

  ‘You told us that you and Robin had no history together,’ Minter said.

  ‘I said we went to the same school. Harsham Grammar,’ Ledger corrected.

  ‘Right, yes you did. You did say that,’ Minter agreed. ‘But – and here’s where the confusion lies – we recently interviewed Robin’s parents and they mentioned that you and Robin were pretty good friends at school. Is that right?’

  It had actually been Meadows’ wife and Westfield’s mum who’d mentioned the name Robin. But the plan was to hold their names back for later.

  Ledger shrugged. ‘You know what… it’s a long time ago. Friendships tend to come and go during your school days, right? We might have hung out once or twice. I honestly can’t remember.’

  ‘But during your Skype interview with him, he must have reminded you that you went to school together?’ Minter pressed.

  Ledger’s face creased as he made a show of casting his mind back. ‘He may have done. Yes… come to think of it… yeah, we might have talked briefly about Harsham Grammar.’

  ‘Right.’ Minter jotted that down, keeping up the pretence that this was all new info. ‘But, and again, I only want to clear up any confusion, can I ask why you didn’t think to mention that yesterday?’

  ‘Because I just remembered.’ Ledger adjusted his position. ‘It was a long time ago. You know, ancient history. To be honest, I didn’t have a great time at that school. There was a bit of bullying going on back then… and I was on the receiving end of some of it. So, no, I don’t tend to dwell on my school days that much.’

  Minter nodded. ‘Well, that’s understandable.’ He glanced down at his notes. ‘Now, you told us that you offered Robin a job at your firm. Can I ask why?’