*Do you think I'm stupid?' Lake said. *Claude Gilbert in my spare room would be hard to hide.'

*How do I know you aren't lying?' I said. *You don't want Claude found.'

Lake pointed at me. *You're the reason.' When I looked confused, he said, *My secret is out now. I've nothing to gain any more.'

*Does Northern Works own any other buildings he might be able to use?' I said.

Lake raised his glass to me. *You know the answer to that.'

*What do you mean?'

*The company search you did, left on your table, next to your computer.'

I took a deep breath, my anger building now. *You went into my house.'

*I had to know how much you'd found out,' he said.

I looked towards the high windows, at the rain running down the panes. *You're just full of grubby little secrets, aren't you, Lake?' I said. *Dead girls, fugitive murderers, bent coppers. You never really moved on.'

*I don't need your approval,' he said. *Look at yourself, at how you were taken in by a conman, too greedy for the big story. The big question was not why he came forward, but why now, and if you had worked that out earlier, you wouldn't be in this mess, trying to find your missing girlfriend.'

*What do you mean?' I said.

*The inheritance,' he said. *Claude's father on his deathbed and his sisters trying to get a declaration of death, so that Claude's share goes to them. Like you, he's greedy, just after the money, gambling on Dobson's silence so that he can grab his share of the estate.'

I sat back and ran my fingers through my hair, frustrated. I knew more now, but I was no nearer to finding Laura.

*Why would Claude take Laura?' I said.

*Greedy people don't like losing out, and so it's just plain old revenge,' Lake said. *I've spoiled his great plan, and so he's lashing out, like he lashed out at Nancy when he found out she had been sleeping around.' He sat forward. *You need to find Laura quickly though, because if you think of what happened to Nancy, you know just how nasty he gets when he strikes back.'

I closed my eyes, knowing just how true that sounded.

Chapter Seventy-One.

I was back outside Susie's house, with Joe this time, who was waiting for me outside, trying to shelter from the rain under a shop awning.

*This is a shitty part of town to end up in,' Joe said.

*I've been here before,' I said, and looked along the street. There was no sign of a green Mini, and the house was quiet.

Joe went into the shop next door as I pressed my face up against Susie's window. The curtains were drawn so it was impossible to see inside, and I couldn't hear any movement.

Joe came out of the shop. *Claude's been here for a couple of days,' he said. *The shopkeeper recognised the description. He hasn't seen him today though, or Susie. She wasn't here last night either.'

*How does he know?'

*Because she plays her music too loud when she gets drunk, and he didn't hear it last night. She bought some booze yesterday, and so he expected a noisy night, but he doesn't complain. She's good for trade.'

I pushed open the communal front door and rapped hard on Susie's door. No answer. I knocked again. Still no reply. Then I heard a door open on the landing above and a face appeared over the rail.

*Are you the police?' It was a man in his thirties, with long dark hair trailing over the railing, the words coming out in a drawl. The sickly scent of cannabis wafted down the stairs.

Joe looked up. *Yes. We're looking for Susie Bingham. Have you seen her?'

He shook his head in response, his hair swaying from side to side. Joe turned away, but then the man said, *I heard her though.'

Joe looked up again. *What did you hear?'

*Just like a row, man. Shouting, and something got broken, and then it went quiet, like eerie.'

*When?'

*Last night.'

Joe went upstairs and showed him Frankie's photograph of Claude, his hand over Laura. *Do you recognise him?'

The man pulled his hair to one side and then nodded. *He stays here sometimes. Funny dude. Doesn't speak. Keeps out of the way. She's sweet though.'

*Do you and Susie talk much?' Joe said.

*Yeah, like all the time, man,' he said. *She comes up for a smoke sometimes.'

*Does she talk about her love life?'

*Sometimes. She told me that she was all loved up, that she would go for drives with a man, that kind of thing.'

*Did she say where?'

He shook his head. *Just in the country somewhere. Said it was their special place.'

Joe came back down the stairs and aimed a kick at the door. It took three sharp kicks to the lock area to splinter the wood, and then a fourth to make the door swing open.

Joe and I exchanged glances and then entered. The flat was empty and even messier than when I had been in before. Papers were scattered on the floor and a bottle had been knocked over. Then I saw a dark patch by the fire.

*Is that blood?'

Joe got to his knees to look closer. *That would be my guess,' he said, and pointed me towards the bedroom. *Find some clue about her life with Claude. We need to know more.'

I went through the archway, pulled aside the old blue curtain, the one concession to privacy. I hadn't got a good look before, and so I was surprised by how different the bedroom was to the rest of the flat. It was chintzy and bright, with a white silky four-poster and pink heart-shaped cushions, clean and tidy. There was a white dresser, with a mirror surrounded by lights, like something from an end-of-pier dressing room, and the curtains were shiny and pink, to match the cushions. The bedroom seemed like a haven, somewhere for Susie to escape the failures elsewhere in her life, and there was a doorway to a bathroom.

*What do you think about this?' Joe said, passing me a framed photograph through the curtain. It showed Susie and Claude relaxing together by a river. It was recent, showing Claude's full beard and straggly hair; there was a bit of stone in the foreground suggesting that the pictures were taken using a self-timer. Claude was smiling into the camera but Susie was staring up at him, a look of devotion on her face. *Their special place?'

*Maybe,' I said, going to the dresser. The top drawer was chaotic. Knickers and socks almost jumped out when I opened it, and I scrambled through, throwing them onto the floor before moving on to the other drawers. There was nothing of interest, just T-shirts and jeans thrown in, nothing that would help in the search for Claude Gilbert. And, more importantly, for Laura.

The wardrobe was much the same, with white chipboard doors that didn't match up well, filled with short skirts and lacy blouses and a shelf at the top, with boxes and old shoes. I pulled the largest box down and, opening it, I felt a burst of sadness. There was a christening outfit, billowing cream silk, perfectly folded and packed under soft tissue. I looked quickly around the room. There were a couple of photographs of a little girl, but no recent ones. It seemed as if her motherly bond had ended when the girl had grown up. Where were the more recent photographs, of the teenage girl, or graduation photographs?

I went to the next box, and when I opened the lid, I shouted, *Joe!'

He put his head around the curtain. I held up a pile of photographs. *More pictures of the happy couple.'

Joe came into the room and flicked through them. I scoured through the rest of the box. There were mostly pictures of Susie, flirty and happy, laughing at the camera, blowing kisses or posing in mockingly provocative poses. Then there were some of Claude Gilbert, but he looked more serene, smiles of contentment behind the beard. There were others taken on a self-timer, with Susie draped over Claude, and I could see a blush behind the broken veins in Claude's cheeks. They looked like they had been taken during winter, with Claude and Susie holding up hip flasks against an ice-blue sky, and there was a snow-coated river bank in some.

*These photographs are mostly taken in the same place,' I said. *Look at the views,' and I pointed at the trees in the background. *The trees all follow the same line. It looks like they found a little hideaway. What's so special about that place?'

*We need to find out where it is first,' Joe said. Then he thought of something. *Mike Dobson.'

*What about him?'

*He used to go for drives to the country with Nancy,' he said. *Maybe the special place for Nancy was the same for Claude, so Claude took Susie there?'

*Tenuous,' I said.

*Got any better ideas?'

I shook my head.

*Let's go then,' he said, and he ran for the door. I was right behind him.

Chapter Seventy-Two.

Joe rushed into the station with me in his wake. He fumbled with his swipe card and then headed towards a door at the end of a corridor, past lockers that lined the wall and towards a bright light that shone through a glass panel in a door.

*Do you really think it will be the same place?' I said.

*I don't know,' Joe said. *But it's the only quick option we have right now. You heard what was said, that Susie called it their special place. There's a river, and in the photographs the water just bubbles over the pebbles on the river bed. That's how Dobson described where he took Hazel, the dead girl, because it was a special place for him and Nancy. It sounds like Nancy might be speaking from the grave here, because I reckon it's where Claude and Nancy went when they were young and in love. And then Nancy took Mike Dobson, for the same reason, because it was quiet and secluded, or maybe because she had good memories from when her husband loved her. And, because it reminded him of Nancy, Dobson took Hazel there.'

*And Claude took Susie.'

*Something like that,' Joe said. *It's the one place that repeats itself.'

We crashed through into the custody area. The custody sergeant seemed initially reluctant to let us through into the cell; Mike Dobson had legal representation now. But there was something in Joe's eyes that made him hand over the key.

When we opened the door, Mike Dobson was lying on his bed, his hands behind his head. He looked up calmly as we entered.

*The best night's sleep I've had in a long time,' he said.

Joe was surprised.

*I can never get absolution, I know that,' Mike said. *I helped someone die, but I can stop keeping it a secret.'

*Tell us this then,' Joe said. *Did Nancy have a special place?'

Mike sat up. *For us? Down by the river, like I told you, where I took Hazel.'

*Where is it?'

*It's an old fishing shelter by the Ribble. It's on private land, used to be owned by Claude's family, so not many people know it's there, but the owner never goes to it, and so we would always have it to ourselves.'

Joe passed him one of the photographs of Susie. *Is that it?'

He paused as he looked at the picture, taking in the background. But then he scowled as a spark of recognition ignited him.

*That's Claude, isn't it?' he said.

*We'll talk about that later,' Joe said. *Just tell me if that's the same place you took Hazel.'

Mike looked at the photograph for a few seconds more, the picture twitching as his hands shook, and then he looked at Joe and nodded.

*I need directions,' Joe said. *If you tell me exactly where it is, you might just take some weight from your conscience.'

And so Mike did.

The water was now over Laura's shoulders, her head raised to keep it out of her ears. Her forehead pressed against the metal, her breasts and knees like islands, but it was hard to keep it there. Laura shivered violently. Her bones ached, her skin was numb, her teeth chattered. Each breath seemed laboured, the air squeezed out by the water, and she was starting to gulp. If help was on its way, it had to come soon.

She closed her eyes and fought the urge to lie back, to let the water take her over, an end to the pain.

She shook her head. She couldn't think like that. She had to have hope until there was no hope left.

Laura tried to shuffle sideways, just to shift her position, but it was hard to move through the water. She tried to use her hands against the metal sheet, but she couldn't make her arms work. They were sluggish, powerless, like dead weights.

Her head dipped back, she couldn't stop it, and the cold water filled her ears, so that all she could hear was the rush of blood through her head. Her face was numb, but she felt the water lap against her cheeks, like soft slaps, inches from her mouth. If she left her head there, the water would rise up and gather around her lips, held back for a few seconds by the skin and tiny hairs, and then they would give way and the water would tumble over, filling her throat, her lungs, and release her from the hole.

She lifted her head quickly. Don't think like that. Fight it, for Bobby's sake. He needs a mother.

The breaths came quick and fast as she wondered how soon the end would come, when all she would see would be the film of water over her eyes as her body tried to take a breath without air. Would it hurt, or would it be blessed relief?

Chapter Seventy-Three.

We were silent as we drove for the shelter by the Ribble, away from the shadows of Blackley and into countryside, through rolling lanes and hedgerows. I couldn't enjoy the views though. The rain was falling harder against the windscreen, it had been going all morning, the wipers finally getting rid of the midges that had died there in the days before. I clenched and unclenched my fists.