Nick grabbed his car keys from the hook on the wall as he made towards the front door.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Jennifer said, wondering why she was asking the question and not his wife.

  ‘To the mortuary. They’ll need someone to ID the body. If it’s Abigail, then I should be with her.’

  Jennifer followed him into the hall, keeping her voice low.

  ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. There’s . . .’ She lowered her voice as she approached him. ‘The body’s decomposed. I think they’re going to ID by other methods, probably dental records.’

  The instruction was to wait for further updates with regards the identification procedure, but Jennifer knew it was a waste of time trying to stop him.

  ‘I’m a sergeant,’ Nick said. ‘I’m more than capable of dealing with this and I’m not waiting around for any dental records.’

  He turned on his heel and left. Karen paused at the door.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said, glancing back into the kitchen. ‘I’ll go with him. Matt, you may as well go home. I don’t think there’ll be any more searching tonight.’

  Jennifer waited for the front door to close before calling Zoe and arranging for her to be there to greet them. Zoe was a lot nearer to the mortuary, and the last thing they needed was Nick turning up and creating a scene. That taken care of, she plugged her feet into her wellingtons to go outside and speak to Olivia.

  The little girl had been brought outside by her grandparents in an effort to distract her from everything going on in the house. The rain pitter-pattered against her umbrella as she checked her phone. Twitter was already streaming suspicions of a body being found, and it didn’t take long for it to be linked it to Abigail’s disappearance. She glared at the tweets in disbelief, as @Truth00Seeker spewed their hateful messages.

  Police found a body in the river. Mum needs to own up NOW. #FindAbigail

  * * *

  Body found? Is it Abigail? Has her mom been arrested? #FindAbigail

  * * *

  Only a matter of time. She did it. We want answers. #FindAbigail

  * * *

  I’m a friend of the family & you shouldn’t be saying this stuff. Who are you @Truth00Seeker

  * * *

  The clue is in the name. Seeker of truth. Bringer of justice. #FindAbigail

  * * *

  Olivia didn’t have a phone, but Jennifer didn’t want to take the chance of her hearing the news from anyone else. Joanna had given her permission to speak to their daughter alone, and she was going to make use of it.

  ‘There you are,’ she said to Olivia, who was standing with her hands on her hips, surveying the inside barn. Nick had done a good job converting it into a cosy stable and tack room for the pony that was coming on loan. ‘Wow. This looks great, doesn’t it? Fit for a king,’ Jennifer said, happy to see a smile on Olivia’s face, even if she didn’t reply.

  Heavy rain hammered on the galvanized roof, and Jennifer folded her umbrella. The sweet smell of hay filled the barn. Nick had replaced the rotten bales with fresh ones, and cleaned the cobweb-laced timbers overhead. She signalled to Olivia’s grandparents Bob and Wendy that it was okay to leave her with the child. Their grief was painfully prominent, and with each day that passed the elderly couple looked increasingly gaunt.

  ‘Have you found her?’ Bob asked, his voice thick with emotion.

  Jennifer followed them to the front of the barn, keeping her voice low. ‘We don’t know. They’ve recovered a body in the water but there’s not been any identification yet. We just have to wait and see.’

  ‘You want to tell Olivia? Is that wise?’ Wendy whispered sharply. Her tightly permed white hair made her look more like Nick’s grandmother than his mother, and Jennifer had heard that she was quite forthright with her opinions.

  Jennifer glanced over at the little girl, who was busy stuffing a hay net in the corner. ‘Yes, I think she deserves to know what’s going on.’

  Wendy grasped Jennifer’s hands, holding them tightly in hers. Her skin was cold as she squeezed hard. Inhaling a sudden breath, she pulled them towards her.

  ‘I know why you’re here. It’s because you think they did it.’

  Jennifer gasped, desperately wanting to pull her hands away. She opened her mouth to speak, but Wendy carried on, determined to have her say.

  ‘Joanna’s a good girl. I know she acts odd, but she would never hurt the children, and Nick . . .’

  Bob placed a hand on her shoulder and shot her a warning glance. ‘C’mon now, love, the officer doesn’t need to hear this.’

  Wendy squeezed Jennifer’s hands, as if her husband had never spoken. ‘Nick . . . he’s made mistakes in life, wicked ones at that. But he’s putting things right now. He loves those girls, we all do.’

  ‘Wendy,’ her husband said, squeezing her shoulder. She blinked twice before releasing her grip.

  ‘I just thought you should know. That’s all.’

  ‘Know what?’ Jennifer said, none the wiser.

  ‘Just what she said,’ Bob said. The couple turned to leave, their faces devoid of hope.

  Finally alone with Olivia, Jennifer sat down on bale of hay. She pulled a loose strand and threaded it between her fingers. Wendy’s comments had given her food for thought, but right now her priorities lay with Olivia.

  ‘It looks so cosy,’ she said to the little girl. ‘Do you want to sit down? You must be tired after all that work.’

  Olivia had only taken a few steps before her face clouded over. It was as if she was in a hypnotist’s stage show, and someone had just clicked their fingers.

  ‘Why haven’t you found me?’ she said, her words distant and hollow.

  ‘What?’ Jennifer shuddered, as an icy shroud formed around her. ‘Is that you, Abigail?’

  ‘Yes, it’s me. Why aren’t you coming to get me?’ the voice responded, with chilling lucidity.

  It was Abigail. It had to be. Jennifer’s heart began to pound as the sense of urgency hit home. She resurrected the questions she had planned to ask.

  ‘Were you in the water? Please, Abigail, describe where you are.’

  ‘I’m in deep in the ground. The water’s coming in and I can’t get out. I’m so hungry. Why have they forgotten me, why?’

  ‘Who, Abigail?’ Jennifer said. ‘Who took you?’

  Olivia took in a sharp breath and tears began to prick her eyes. It was heartbreaking to watch her connection with her sister. Olivia’s fingernails dug into the flesh of Jennifer’s hands.

  ‘I . . . I don’t know . . . You’ve got to find me, pleeease.’

  ‘I’m trying, sweetheart, we all are,’ Jennifer said. But the life left Olivia’s hands as they dropped to her sides, and she gave a small jolt before returning to herself.

  ‘Olivia?’ Jennifer said, testing her reaction. ‘What just happened, sweetheart?’

  Olivia shrugged, maintaining her usual silence. The connection was gone. And was she any further on? Frustration bit into Jennifer as thoughts ran riot in her head. Storm clouds rumbled overhead, and in the distance Jennifer could see the headlights of the police search teams drive away. There would be no more searching this evening, not in this weather. But what did she mean, the water was coming in? She tried to elicit further communication, but Olivia stared blankly, taking Jennifer’s hand and showing her around the newly converted stable. After a few minutes, she sat her down on a bale of hay.

  ‘I’ve got something to tell you, but I don’t want you to worry, because it might not mean anything.’

  Olivia nodded, pushing her fingers under the blue strand of baling twine as she sat on the hay.

  ‘You know how the police divers were searching the river? Well . . . they’ve found somebody in there. I need you to be a brave girl until we find out who it is. Can you do that?’

  Olivia nodded, a sad half-smile on her face. She stood up and stared mournfully at the rain-soaked wastelands. Jennifer didn’t know if Olivia’s thoughts were seeping through to her, or if it was empathy that brought her to the conclusion, but she felt that Olivia wanted to search for Abigail herself. The little girl’s eyes were wide and pleading through her gold-rimmed glasses as they met Jennifer’s, who instinctively responded, despite the lack of a question.

  ‘You can’t go looking, sweetie. What would happen if you got lost too? Who would look after Toby?’

  Olivia nodded, visibly wilting before her. She really was a pitiful sight. A lone twin, with no knowledge of her counterpart. Jennifer had tried gently coaxing her for information, but all she could come up with were the occasional snatched whispers meant only for her.

  Jennifer wanted to tell her that there were no promises that they would find her sister alive, that she needed to prepare herself, and she would meet her again, one day. But as she stared into her haunting blue eyes, the words formed a lump in her throat. She had no right to utter them . . . and the truth was too harsh for a little girl to face. All she could do was nod. Jennifer was loath to bring Olivia back inside while her mood was so low. Instead, she called her aunt and, putting her on speaker, talked about the arrangements for the pony’s delivery. Pony nuts, tack and mucking out: such topics were enough to temporarily brighten Olivia’s mood.

  * * *

  Jennifer was grateful for the confines of her car when Olivia was finally called inside. Waiting for an update on the identity of the body was torturous, because she knew she would be the one to deliver the news. She needed respite from the cloud of despair weighing heavy on the Duncan family home. She pushed back the driver’s seat, stretching her legs and easing off her heels. She had gained new blisters from walking over the uneven ground, but she couldn’t substitute her beloved high heels for flats every day. They bolstered her confidence, strengthening the professional image she strived so hard to maintain as a woman in the police force. Without them, she was the same as everyone else: fallible, emotional, and susceptible to mistakes.

  She pulled out her notebook and scribbled down the stolen words. Hope was cruelly both given and taken away in each sentence. Deep in the ground would suggest a burial. Not a shallow grave but deep. But then, a child’s perception of deep could be different to an adult’s. Where else could she be? There were no bunkers or basements in the area, but her connection with Olivia was strong, so she couldn’t be far from home. In the same breath she had mentioned food, being hungry. All human emotions. The wants and needs of a living child. A flicker of hope reignited in her chest. Surely this was a good sign? Spirits didn’t get hungry, did they? Unless they didn’t know they were dead. Jennifer stared hard at the words, as if they were going to rearrange themselves into answers. Abigail had asked why they had forgotten her. But to whom was she referring? She slipped her hand into her jacket pocket and pulled out her mobile phone, calling up Ethan’s number. Even if she wasn’t in the office, having a temporary connection with work grounded her and staved off the risk of emotional involvement, which was growing by the minute.

  ‘DI Cole speaking,’ he said, even though her name would have flashed up on his phone. She passed on Abigail’s message, and they discussed the possibilities. Ethan came up with the conclusion that it could be Olivia finding comfort in pretending to be her sister, or the voice of a lost soul trapped in the torment of being abandoned in the earth. Either way, they had to keep digging for more.

  ‘I just don’t know,’ Jennifer said. ‘It feels like wading through treacle with this case. We’re all on tenterhooks waiting for the identity of the body in the river.’

  But Ethan was distracted by whoever had just entered his office. Muffled voices followed as a hand masked the receiver, and Jennifer slid her feet back into her shoes, sensing an update was on its way. Ethan returned to her call with a renewed sense of urgency.

  ‘Your information may be more valuable than you think. We’ve identified the body.’

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  A noisy flock of geese flew over Jennifer’s head, their necks stretched, feathers merging with the pearl grey sky. Keep flying, Jennifer thought, as the perfect ‘V’ formation drove onwards. Haven didn’t accommodate many migrating birds. The menacing stillness acted as a deterrent to both wildlife and strangers who passed through the lands. She watched as the birds disappeared into the clouds, envying their freedom. She should have been relieved; she had delivered good news, but a gnawing dread told her it would not be long before the family’s hopes were dashed for good.

  She walked across the car park of Haven Police Station. It was a relief to get away from the farm, even for an hour. Abigail’s disappearance was all-consuming, keeping her awake at night and on the edge of her nerves during the day. The discovery that the body was not hers was a minor victory. But any minute now, the family’s world could come crashing down. Jennifer knew that, despite appearances, Joanna would be physically sick inside, enduring a surreal kind of hell until her daughter was returned. Unless she was responsible for her disappearance. The words took her by surprise as they flashed in her mind. Was the child being held captive? Could this be some bizarre publicity stunt? Jennifer stood before the police station with her hands on her hips, feeling like she was about to go into battle. But against whom? Abigail had been taken by someone she knew. She sensed it in her words. There was no fear there, just disbelief at the betrayal. But each attempt at contact was cut painfully short. It came in intermittent bursts, like clouds passing over the sun. Was it due to her weakening mind or her soul? Thanks to her latest report on Olivia’s nervousness around her father, and his denial of their secret, he was deemed a ‘person of interest’ and would be spoken to formally with regard to Abigail’s disappearance. If he refused to attend the police station to speak on tape, consideration would be given to his arrest. It was slim pickings evidentially, but if there was any chance Abigail was alive, then they would do whatever it took to find her. Zoe had used every ounce of her diplomacy to calm Nick down and get him out of the coroner’s office. He had come close to being arrested for a public order offence, due to the amount of swearing taking place. He’d then been given the choice of being interviewed about his daughter’s disappearance, with or without being arrested first. He had agreed to the latter.

  Jennifer had not come to the police station just to get away. She had plans for how to spend her time: researching Joanna Duncan. But she was rewarded with very little information. The woman was swiftly becoming an enigma. Rather than being puzzled by her behaviour, Nick’s parents treated her like she was some sort of saint. Yet Joanna’s relationship with her husband was strained. And as for her father . . . Jennifer glanced up at Mr Hines’s picture on the wall. It was a blown-up image taken from a newspaper article. She looked across at Nick’s father, Bob. His picture had also been taken from an article. In fact, it seemed to be the same one. Rifling through the file on the table, she found the printout of the original clipping. It was a piece on Haven’s first photographic club, set up in the late 1990s. So Bob Duncan and Joseph Hines were both members. But their relationship shed little light on Mr Hines’s fractured history with his daughter, and the broken home she had come from. Just what happened between them? He lived on the outskirts of Haven, just a couple of miles from Blackwater farm. Why hadn’t Joanna moved in there, instead of renting his house out to strangers? It wasn’t as if he was going to move back. Jennifer turned back to her computer and clicked on the image of the house portrayed on the letting site. It seemed quite nice by all accounts, a damn sight nicer than Blackwater farm anyway. She had been tempted to pay the new tenants a visit, but what would she say? Excuse me, I’d like to have a look around in case I can pick up some terrible history from the walls of your home?

  ‘I’m really grasping at straws now,’ Jennifer mumbled under her breath, shutting down the site. What good was delving into the past, when Abigail was missing right now? Unless . . . She trotted out of the office to see her DI, and he instantly waved her inside. Ethan looked surprised to see her back so soon.

  ‘I thought you’d be at the farm,’ he said, clasping his hands together.

  ‘I was. But I was thinking . . . would it be possible to have Joanna’s father’s house searched? I don’t think it’s been checked properly, has it?’

  ‘Enquiries were made with the occupants, but not a thorough search, no. Abigail’s never been there, and it’s being rented by strangers to the area.’

  ‘It’s worth a shot, though, isn’t it?’ Jennifer said, casting a glance over the piles of paperwork on his desk. ‘I know you’re busy, but . . .’

  ‘Finding Abigail takes precedence over all this,’ he said, waving his hand over the paperwork. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll speak to DCI Anderson today, get the necessary authorisation.’

  ‘Oh,’ Jennifer said, crestfallen. ‘But I’d like to conduct the search myself.’ She glanced through the office door at Will, who had returned from custody with interview notes in hand. She envied his productivity. At least he was dealing with a suspect. If only Abigail could be located safe and well, and she could get on with the business of investigating her abductor.

  ‘I need you back with the family,’ Ethan replied. ‘Nick’s being interviewed as we speak. I can’t see him making any admissions of guilt, so I’d like you back at the farm before he’s released.’

  Jennifer sighed. It was getting late, and her shoulders were heavy with the weight of her concerns. ‘Oh, OK then. But you’ll keep me informed?’

  ‘You have my word,’ Ethan said, picking up the phone.

  Jennifer mumbled her goodbyes. Two days since Abigail went missing. Two long days. And soon it would be three. Even if Abigail were trapped or lost, there was no way she could survive much longer without food and water. How could Jennifer return to the farm, knowing all the odds were against her?