For a moment after the door clicked shut, no one moved.

The conference room hummed faintly – projector fan, old electrics, the distant cough of plumbing somewhere in Grimshaw Hall’s guts – but inside, the Cold Case Team were as still as exhibits.

‘Nobody vanishes that fast,’ Charlie Riggs said at last. ‘Not in heels.’

‘She wasn’t wearing heels,’ Georgie said automatically. ‘Flats. Soft soles.’

‘That’s not the point, Sergeant,’ Samson snapped.

The Chief Constable pushed her chair back and stood, palms flat on the table as if she needed to feel solid wood beneath her hands. Pauline’s laptop sat between them, the incriminating photos still glowing faintly on the screen.

‘The point,&rsqu...

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