Page 60 of 36 Hours

He typed the name Joanne Deary into Google. He’d already checked that she wasn’t known to them, but he wanted to see what else he could learn about her. The boss had made it clear that no one’s name came off the list.

Immediately, he could see that her name came up on most social networking platforms. Not unusual for a single woman with two children. Probably she craved company outside of baby talk and watching kids’ TV.

She seemed to be most active on Instagram.

As he scrolled through her posts, he lost heart in his own logic.

Every single photo was of her kids. One of them, both of them, all three of them together. No pictures of her out with friends, eating somewhere with adults or doing things on her own.

There was nothing wrong with this picture except that she needed to find an occasional sitter for some ‘me’ time.

He’d scrolled back almost a year and found nothing.

He was about to move on to the next name on the list when a post caught his attention.

It was a small gathering for a child’s birthday party. A couple of people were tagged, and they were both names he recognised.

FORTY-SEVEN

9.50P.M.

‘You know they ain’t gonna like this one little bit,’ Bryant said as they got out of the car.

‘It’s hardly the middle of the night,’ she said as she knocked the door.

‘Not for us,’ he said, pointing to the front window.

There was no need. She’d already clocked that there appeared to be no lights on.

She knocked again.

Lights went on, and footsteps sounded as they approached the door.

‘How many times have I told you…?’

Mrs Lane stopped speaking as she realised they weren’t whoever she’d been expecting. Her expression changed from mild irritation to outrage.

‘May we come in, Mrs Lane?’ Kim asked pleasantly.

‘No, you may not. How dare you make house calls at this time of night.’

‘May we speak to Mr Lane?’ Kim asked.

‘I can’t even imagine what you’d want with my husband, but he’s not here. Please call at a more reasonable time,’ she said, attempting to close the door on them.

The dour woman appeared to still be aggravated that they’d disrupted Sunday lunchtime earlier, and, quite frankly, Kim was starting to feel less tolerant of people with a fucking bad attitude.

She placed her foot in the doorway. ‘And where might he be?’ she asked, allowing her voice to rise in volume.

‘He’s at the pub,’ Mrs Lane said, lowering her own voice as Kim had hoped she would.

‘Fine, just tell us where and we’ll be on our way,’ Kim said, almost shouting.

Mrs Lane’s face turned panic-stricken as she looked from one neighbouring house to the other.

To some people, appearances were everything.

‘You’d better come in and wait,’ she huffed, pulling her dressing gown tighter around her body.