Jessica sat looking at her phone, watching the screen turn itself off to save the battery and then pressing a button herself to make it come back to life.

‘Adam Compton’, the name read at the top.

Her thumb hovered over the ‘Call Mobile’ button and then the device started ringing before she could make up her mind. It was a number she didn’t recognise but she immediately pressed to answer.

‘Hello?’

The voice on the other end stuttered and was clearly nervous. ‘Um, hello. Is that Detective, erm, Daniel?’

‘Yes, who’s this?’

‘It’s Dennis from the prison. You gave me your number. How are you?’

Jessica’s heart immediately sank. She had known it was a mistake to pass on her details and felt sure he would end up phoning her at some point. The last thing she wanted was a social call from him. ‘I’m fine but a little busy at the moment.’

‘Oh, um, I was wondering if you were free this evening? If maybe you wanted a drink or something?’

Jessica had half a mind to tell him to get lost but she forced herself to be polite. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. I only gave you my number in case someone recognised the picture.’

‘Oh yes, sorry, that’s why I’m calling. It’s about the picture. Can we meet?’

Jessica didn’t know if he was being genuine or not. Something in his voice didn’t sound quite right but it could just be his nervousness. ‘We can meet in town but I don’t really have time for a drink or anything. Does that sound okay?’

Jessica thought that, if he was trying it on, he would change his mind but instead he said ‘yes’ and asked for an address. She named a pub in the middle of the city, not wanting to be openly seen with him for either professional or personal reasons. At the same time, she didn’t feel quite right having the type of illicit meeting she’d had with Garry Ashford in a supermarket car park. Jessica knew the pub wasn’t one of the busy ones and should be fairly quiet on a weeknight. She hoped she wasn’t wasting her time but turned her engine and headlights back on and reversed out of her space.

As Jessica walked into the pub, she looked around hoping Dennis would already be there so she could make it quick; the last thing she needed was to be left sitting at a table on her own as if she’d been stood up. There was a raised seating area that ran around the whole of the pub, with a wooden banister separating it from the bar and tall tables with stools. Jessica put one hand on the rail and started walking around in a circle to see if she could see him.

The pub was as empty as she could have wished. Aside from a couple of people serving at the bar and a few customers watching football on the other side, there wasn’t anyone else present. It was the type of place that had been done up nicely around a decade ago but hadn’t had anything renovated since. A thin layer of dust came off on her hands from the rail as she continued walking and she wiped it on her trousers until she finally saw Dennis sitting in a booth at the very back of the pub. He was cradling a pint of bitter and stood as he spotted her.

Jessica walked up the three steps to the raised area and slid herself into the booth opposite him. He followed her lead and sat back down. She had only ever seen him before in the standard uniform of heavy boots, dark trousers and a navy-blue jumper but he definitely must have thought she’d consented to some sort of date given the way he was dressed. As he sat down, the lights caught his black shoes which were either brand new or had been recently shined. He was wearing dark suit-type trousers with a light blue shirt, with the top few buttons undone.

Jessica felt slightly sick at the amount of wiry greying chest hair that was poking out of the top. She tried not to look but the way the hairs spiralled was almost hypnotic. ‘I’ve got to be quick, Dennis,’ Jessica said. ‘I’ve got quite a lot on at the moment so only have a few minutes.’

‘Are you sure you don’t want a drink?’

‘Sorry, I’m driving. I never drink on duty anyway.’

It was a little white lie. She didn’t drink when she was driving but pretty much every officer she had ever met wasn’t averse to a quiet drink, even if their shift wasn’t quite over. Dennis’s face fell slightly and his scar seemed even more prominent, illuminated by the small spotlights overhead. It really did run the entire length of his face from his mouth to the bottom part of his ear. She almost wanted to ask where he got it but the idea of getting into a full conversation wasn’t too appealing.

‘Are you sure you don’t fancy a soft drink?’ he asked.

‘Sorry, I’m really in a rush. You said you had some news about the photo?’

Dennis dug into his trouser pocket and took out the newspaper clipping she had given him. Jessica could see instantly it was slightly torn and a lot grubbier than when she had handed it over. He put the photo on the table between them and pushed it towards her. ‘Who is this guy anyway?’

Jessica had known it was a gamble to pass on a photo from a newspaper because it would indicate it was of someone semi-important. Aside from printing out something from the force’s website where Farraday would have been in uniform, she had no other option. She didn’t know if either Dennis or someone else he showed it to would have recognised the image as being of her boss – he was involved in TV appeals – but, at the same time, if you didn’t know what you were looking for, he was just another face.

‘I can’t really tell you that, Dennis.’

The man shuffled in his seat. ‘I thought he looked familiar but didn’t recognise him directly. I showed him to a couple of the other office guys but they had no idea. One of the late girls reckons he was definitely a regular visitor a few months back.’

From being sceptical about why he had asked to meet, Jessica was suddenly hanging on Dennis’s every word. ‘What do you mean by “late girls”?’

‘Oh, right. Nothing really, just that she does the late shift which is why I don’t always see her. I waited around especially though because you asked me . . .’

He was waiting for a compliment but Jessica was feeling too impatient to indulge him. ‘What did she say?’

‘She used to work on days up until about three or four months back. Everyone’s shifts got bumped around and I moved from earlies to days and she moved from days to nights. But she reckoned, when she was on days, he was a regular visitor. She said he looked a bit different, like he had a beard or something, but that he used to come all the time.’

‘Why haven’t you seen him then?’

‘She reckons he just stopped suddenly. He went from visiting a couple of times a week to not coming at all. Not long after that we all swapped shifts which is why I didn’t know him.’

‘Doesn’t everyone have to sign in with ID when they come to the prison?’

‘Yeah, if you don’t have your driving licence or whatever, you’re not allowed through reception.’

‘Did you ask her if she remembered the name?’

‘Funny you should say that. I never remember anyone but, as soon as she saw the picture, she knew exactly who it was.’

Jessica could feel her heart pounding in her chest, knowing all the paranoia she had shown was about to be proved correct, that all the sleepless nights weren’t in vain. ‘What was his name?’

‘Somebody Farraday.’

31

Jessica had to fight showing any emotion. She wanted to yell out, ‘I was right’ as vindication for all the things she had found herself doing over the past couple of weeks. She knew she couldn’t do any of that in front of Dennis though.

She pulled the scrap towards her and pocketed it, desperately trying not to react to what he had said. ‘You’ve been really helpful, Dennis, thank you.’