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I
n the briefing room there were now photos pinned to presentation boards of Vince Mayo’s body. All in gory colour. Various notes were scribbled above and below them.

More officers had been roused from their beds and called in. Murders were rare in Southampton and the excitement they
generated
was intense. But this case was bigger and more emotive than
most. It was already causing a stir way beyond anything the team had experienced in years.

After returning from the service station Temple called everyone together. He filled them in on what had just happened with the mobile phones. There were murmurs of disbelief.

‘The bastard must have known that we were homing in on them,’ Brayshaw said.

‘He was playing safe is my guess,’ Temple said. ‘It’s common knowledge these days that we can pinpoint a phone’s position.’

Brayshaw shook his head. ‘Even so it was pretty smart of him.’

‘The important thing is we now have to assume that Cain and his wife are back together,’ Temple said. ‘But we don’t know in what circumstances. She might be a party to what’s going on or she might be in the gravest danger, along with the child.’

He pointed to one of the pictures from the Cain house. ‘This is Laura Cain. She’s six years old.’

It was the kind of photograph that all parents cherish. A little girl wearing a pretty dress and a huge natural smile.

‘She hasn’t been seen since her grandmother dropped her back at home at about five o’clock,’ Temple said. ‘There’s growing cause for concern for both her and her mother.’

Temple then asked for updates. He was told that no cash or jewellery had been found in Mayo’s cottage during a second search of the place. Did that mean the killer had made off with them?

Temple was told that Maggie Cain’s mother lived in Fareham, close to Southampton. A car was on its way there now. However, there was still no word on any of Danny Cain’s blood relatives, or Mayo’s next of kin.

Temple then divided the officers into teams of two and gave them specific tasks, one task being a trawl of CCTV cameras around the murder scene and Cain’s house.

‘This case is developing fast,’ he said. ‘The evidence is so far suggesting that Cain killed his partner. Now he’s leading us a merry dance. We need to find him quickly because God only knows what state of mind he’s in and what level of threat he poses to his family and everyone else.’

Marsha Rowe was the only employee of the Southern News Agency. She was a frumpy, overweight woman in her forties with a narrow face and prematurely greying hair that was tied up in a bun at the back of her head. She looked tired and nervous and had clearly been crying.

Temple thanked her for coming to the station at such an early hour and escorted her to his office. Once she was seated, a uniformed officer was dispatched to fetch her a cup of tea.

‘Please don’t be nervous, Mrs Rowe,’ Temple said. ‘This is very informal. I just want to ask you some questions about Mr Mayo.’

‘It’s Miss,’ she said in a low, nasally voice. ‘I’m not married.’

Temple apologized.

‘The policeman who came to get me told me that Vince had been murdered,’ she said. ‘Is it true?’

‘It happened at his cottage in the New Forest,’ Temple said. ‘Last evening between about eight and ten.’

She put the cup down. Closed her eyes briefly and breathed deeply through her nose. ‘It’s awful,’ she said. ‘A tragedy.’

‘Were you close to Mr Mayo?’ Temple asked.

‘As close as a secretary can be. I’ve worked for the agency since it started. I do all the admin and answer the phone, not that it rings that often. They’ve been good to me.’ She paused as a thought struck her. ‘Oh, Lord. Does Danny know yet? He’ll be beside himself.’

‘Were they close, Miss Rowe? Mr Cain and Mr Mayo.’

She nodded. ‘They were like brothers. Very rarely argued, except when Danny lectured Vince about his gambling.’

‘We’re trying to trace Mr Cain to tell him what’s happened,’ Temple said. ‘But he’s not at home and he’s not answering his phone. Have you any idea where he and his family might be?’

She looked puzzled. ‘No, not unless they’re at Maggie’s mother’s. She lives in the area.’

‘Any other relatives or friends they might be with?’

She thought about it and shook her head. ‘Danny’s parents
emigrated to Australia some years ago. I don’t actually know if he has any brothers or sisters.’

‘What about Mr Mayo? We’d like to trace his next of kin.’

‘I know his parents are both dead,’ she said. ‘And he has a sister who lives abroad somewhere. But I don’t know her name or her address.’

‘When was the last time you saw Mr Mayo?’

‘On Friday. He left early, which was unusual. I think he’d had some bad news or something.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Well, that morning when I arrived for work there was a large manila envelope under the office door,’ she said. ‘It was addressed to Vince and marked strictly private. There were no stamps, so
somebody
must have slipped it under the door. I left it on his desk and I was in the room when he opened it. I remember how he seemed pretty shocked by what was inside. He quickly put it away in his drawer when he saw me looking. I asked him if he was all right and he said he was fine. But he wasn’t. He was moody and preoccupied for the rest of the day.’

‘Did you ask him about the contents of the envelope or why he seemed upset?’

‘No. I felt that if he wanted me to know he would have told me. I don’t like to pry, you see.’

‘Would the envelope still be in his drawer now?’ Temple asked.

She shook her head. ‘He took it with him when he left for the day. I noticed he put it in his briefcase as he walked out the door.’

‘What about Mr Cain?’ Temple said. ‘Where was he on Friday?’

‘He was covering the crown court,’ she said. ‘The agency has a contract with a couple of the national papers to monitor court proceedings. They file stories regularly. Vince normally goes because he enjoys it, but he’s been tied up on some special feature on a local criminal.’

‘You mean Joe Dessler?’

She was surprised. ‘That’s right. He runs an escort agency and lends money at extortionate rates to desperate people. The boys were keeping it close to their chests so I don’t know much about it. But I
know a couple of the tabloids had expressed an interest. It was Vince’s project and he was spending a lot of time on it.’

‘For your information, Miss Rowe, we’ve obtained a search warrant for the office. We’ll be going through the files and computers.’

She was flustered by this. ‘It’s in a mess, I’m afraid. We can’t afford cleaners so I usually tidy up on Monday mornings.’

‘Well, that won’t be necessary this week,’ Temple said. ‘In fact you won’t be able to gain access to the office for a few days.’

She shook her head again and put her fist against her mouth to stop herself crying.

‘What kind of
financial
situation is the agency in?’ Temple asked.

She lowered her fist and said, ‘Dire.’

‘You mean they’ve not been making much money?’

‘That would be an understatement, Inspector. This past year they’ve really struggled. I was put on a four-day week three months ago and they were even talking about closing the office altogether to reduce their overheads.’

‘And did this cause any friction between Mr Cain and Mr Mayo?’

‘I don’t understand what you’re getting at.’

‘Just answer the question, Miss Rowe.’

Her brow rumpled. ‘But if you’re suggesting that Danny killed Vince then you’re very wrong. They were good friends. They looked out for each other.’

‘We’re not suggesting anything,’ Temple said. ‘But we have to explore every angle. Now please – did it cause any friction?’

‘No, not that I was aware of,’ she said. ‘But I do know that Danny has been taking a lot of flak from his wife because of their own
financial
situation. He told me she opposed the idea of starting the agency in the first place and was upset that they had lost most of their money.’

‘So is it fair to say there are problems in their marriage?’

She nodded. ‘I would say so, yes, but I don’t know how serious they are.’

Temple spent another fifteen minutes questioning Miss Rowe and she left in a flood of tears. He then went back to the briefing room
and told one of the detectives to check whether any large manila envelopes had been found in Mayo’s cottage.

At the same time an excited DC Patel approached him with news that Danny Cain had been sighted near the city centre.

‘When and where?’ Temple asked.

‘St Mary’s,’ Patel said. ‘His description matches that of a man who attacked two youths with an iron bar a couple of hours ago, before we got the trace on his phone.’

Temple’s jaw went slack. Hadn’t one of the patrol car drivers mentioned the attack to him earlier?

‘That doesn’t make much sense,’ he said. ‘Where are the youths now?’

‘They were taken to the general hospital, sir. A uniform who attended picked up a description of Cain that we circulated and
realized
they might be one and the same. So he called in.’

‘But why would Cain assault two strangers?’

‘The youths claim they don’t know. That they were attacked for no reason whilst walking home.’

‘Seems unlikely.’

‘My thoughts exactly.’

‘Then send someone over to the hospital to talk to them right away.’

‘It’s in hand, sir.’

‘And check out the scene of the attack to see if there are any security cameras. While you’re at it get someone to trawl the city centre CCTV network as well. If Cain has been wandering around town he might be on tape in more than one location.’

Temple went to his office and sat behind his desk. He didn’t think he had ever felt so tired in all his years as a detective. He leant back and swivelled his chair so that it faced the window. Outside it was still dark, so he couldn’t see the view of the park. But it would soon be dawn and a whole bunch of vibrant colours would grace the day.

But would he be able to shed his own light on what was going on with this case by then? Somehow he doubted it. New questions were being thrown up by the hour. Who was the man in the sheepskin coat watching Mayo’s cottage? What had been in the mystery envelope
that arrived at the agency’s office? And if Cain did indeed attack two youths in St Mary’s then what the hell was he playing at?

It didn’t seem to make any sense, and what Temple didn’t need were complications. He wanted this case to be simple and
straightforward
; he had a feeling it was turning out to be anything but.

T
he loft was cold and damp. Sounds played into the void from all around us. A constant drip, drip, drip into the cold-water tank. Joists and rafters cracked as the wood expanded and contracted.

My throat was already dry from the airborne fibres given off by the rolls of insulation laid between the floor joists. Where there was no chipboard the fibre-glass matting was fully exposed. I
remembered
reading somewhere that it didn’t make for a healthy environment.

The kidnapper’s rucksack had contained three pre-packed
sandwiches
and two large plastic bottles of water. I managed to eat a whole cheese sandwich and Maggie managed half of one with a ham filling. But Laura said she wasn’t hungry or thirsty and when we made her take a bite of a sandwich she started retching.

She was in a state, there was no doubt about that; shocked and terrified, unable to really comprehend what was going on. She’d spent most of the time so far under the blanket whispering to Max. For the first time the presence of her invisible friend did not make me feel uneasy. He was keeping her occupied and that had to be a good thing.

Now, thankfully, she was sleeping between us. But it was a
restless
sleep. Her body twitched and turned and every now and then she called out Max’s name.

The kidnapper had left us two hours ago and we’d heard him
drive away. Maggie had told me what happened to them. The phone call soon after I left to go to Vince’s place. Then how the man in the ski mask had turned up and forced his way into the house. Now she was sitting with her back to the wall, looking at me intently, fear haunting her expression.

‘Do you think he was telling the truth, Danny?’ she said. ‘I mean, about the police suspecting you of killing Vince?’

‘Probably,’ I said. ‘They might have seen me leaving by the back way when they arrived at our house. Or maybe someone saw me at the cottage. It could have been the guy who lives next door.’

‘It’s not fair.’

‘I know that, but there’s nothing I can do about it right now.’

Maggie bit on her knuckle.

‘He’s going to kill us isn’t he?’ she said.

I didn’t answer.

‘He can’t afford to let us go,’ she said. ‘Not unless he wants to be a fugitive for the rest of his life.’

‘Maybe he’s made plans to disappear with a new identity,’ I said. ‘Go to South America where he can live the life of Riley with no
questions
asked.’

Maggie shook her head. ‘He won’t have had time to think about what he’ll do with the money or where he’ll go. Don’t forget no one knew that Vince would have the winning lottery ticket. So whatever happened in that cottage was unexpected. The man in the mask is making it up as he goes along. He must be. But he’s clearly not stupid. He must know that the sensible thing would be to take us out of the picture so there’s no link between the lottery win and Vince’s murder.’

‘That must be why he left the cottage and came straight into town,’ I said. ‘He must have known that Vince called me. Presumably he wanted to stop me going to the cottage. But
unbeknown
to him I’d already left.’

‘So why did he phone first?’

‘You’re sure it was him?’

‘It must have been. He asked for you and when I said you had gone out he put the phone down. Then he turned up at the door.’

I shrugged. ‘My best guess is he was hoping to catch me before I left. Somehow stop me from going to the cottage. But when he discovered I was already on my way he was forced to improvise. He took you hostage and used it to threaten me.’

Maggie gave it some thought. ‘But if he knew you were going to the cottage why didn’t he wait for you there?’

‘Who knows? Could be that he didn’t know that I was on my way over, only that Vince had called to tell me about his ticket. Or it could be that he was never at the cottage. That he had an accomplice.’

‘What do you mean?’

I told her about the car that was parked outside the church when I arrived at the cottage.

‘When I left there it was gone,’ I said. ‘It might simply have been a coincidence. Or else whoever was in the car might have killed Vince.’

Maggie shook her head. ‘But if that person was the killer then why didn’t he stop you going into the cottage in the first place?’

I didn’t have an answer because none of it made sense. That in itself annoyed me in my capacity as a journalist. I wanted to know the facts of the story even though I feared it would never be told. I didn’t want to die. But the thought of dying without knowing the who, why and wherefore made the prospect even more
horrendous
.

I don’t like unanswered questions, unsolved mysteries. They give me angst. I’m a reporter. I like searching for answers, finding them and then basking in the satisfaction of seeing my name in print. This mystery was magnified a hundred times over because I was part of it. I was the victim about whom the reporters would soon be writing their stories. The poor sod caught up in events that were completely out of his control. But by the time the truth came out I’d probably be dead, along with my wife and child.

I’d never know who he was, this masked man who had imposed himself on our lives. I’d never know what happened in the minutes before he – or maybe his accomplice – killed Vince. I’d never know if he went on to lead a glorious life as a multi-millionaire. I’d never know if it had anything to do with Joe Dessler.

‘We have to find a way to get out of here before he comes back,’ Maggie said.

It was a statement of the obvious but the task seemed impossible. There was no one around to hear our cries for help. I had checked for weak points on the chains and cuffs. There weren’t any. There were no tools or sharp objects in the loft that might be used to extricate ourselves.

As I looked around, racking my brain for a means of escape, I felt Maggie’s eyes on me. Willing me to come up with the answer. But I didn’t turn to face her because I didn’t want to disappoint her.