on the other was a circular structure in a woodland clearing. The water tower, I assumed. Of course, the cellsite location was hardly what you’d call exact – Colin’s precise location when those calls came in and were ignored could have been anywhere within several hundred metres of the water tower. But the likelihood was that the phone had been somewhere on Grayswood Lane, because where else would he have been? In the middle of a field?
I did a search on the intelligence database for Grayswood Lane. There had been a burglary at the farm in June – a tractor had been stolen. A call about nuisance motorbikes riding offroad through the woods had come in from a house called Three Pines, Grayswood Lane, in May. A patrol had been sent, but by the time they got there the bikes had gone.
The voters’ register showed that there were five houses in addition to the farm at the end. They all had names: Three Pines, Newlands Barn, The Old Manor, Woodbank and Pond House. I went through them one by one, looking at the names of the residents, in case something jumped out. Nothing did. They all showed at least two people resident at each address. This was starting to feel like a dead end.
I updated my log with all the searches and what I’d found, and made a note that I could draw no conclusions from it. Only that Colin’s phone had been in the vicinity of Grayswood Lane, probably for several hours, on the day after Audrey had gone missing. There was nothing whatsoever to implicate him in her disappearance. There was little else I could do. The priority emails I’d sent to the DCI and the DI had still not been opened. I tried both their mobile numbers one last time, just to be sure, and left another voicemail.
Just before I shut down the workstation, I emailed my log, and my notes, and the list of additional numbers – to Frosty. Just in case. I grabbed my coat and left the police station by the back exit, dialling Sam’s number on my phone as I did so.
Half an hour later we were parked in the road a few doors up from Colin’s house, obscured by the slight bend in the road and out of the direct line of sight of the windows.
‘I shouldn’t really be here,’ I said. ‘I was in so late as it is.’
‘Never mind that,’ Sam said. ‘Call it a late lunch if that makes you happier. And as I keep telling you, you’re still on compassionate leave, or sick leave, or something. You shouldn’t have gone in at all.’
‘It’s not that simple. I have to record all my hours, you know.’
Sam had been telling me all about Cheryl, Audrey’s friend. She’d been reluctant to talk, having only just been interviewed by someone from Major Crime – which was a great comfort to me. It meant they were taking Audrey’s disappearance seriously, at least. She had left Audrey around midnight in the town centre. Audrey lived just up the hill, about a mile away, and she hadn’t wanted to wait to share Cheryl’s taxi. So she had taken herself off up the Baysbury Road, protesting that she always walked home, it wasn’t far, and what was going to happen on a brightly lit main road? And that was the last time Cheryl had seen her.
In return, I told him about the ANPR results. I should have kept quiet about it, probably.
‘You know Colin works for the council?’ Sam said.
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘I guess it might have been a convenient place for him to steal numberplates.’
We sat in silence for a moment. My head was starting to ache.
‘Did Audrey seem OK, when Cheryl said goodbye to her?’ I asked at last.
‘Apparently. She was a bit drunk, but they all were. Not staggering, Cheryl said. A bit tipsy. Anyway, after that I went to see Audrey’s ex.’
‘You went to see Vaughn Bradstock?’ I asked. ‘And?’
‘He wasn’t there. The receptionist told me your lot came and asked him a load of questions, and after that he was all upset and went home. I went to his house but there was no answer. No car outside.’
We stared in silence at the road ahead, a mother with a pushchair and a toddler making slow progress past Colin’s house and towards the town.
‘He’s got her,’ I said.
‘Who? Vaughn?’
‘No. Colin.’
‘We don’t know that for certain,’ he replied.
‘I just feel it,’ I said.