`Did Mrs Blake give us permission to look at the laptop?'
Somer nods. `But she doesn't have any idea what the password might be.'
Baxter sighs heavily and reaches for the machine. `OK, punk. Make my day.'
* * *
Sergeant Karen Bonnett straightens her uniform and reaches for the doorbell. This wasn't exactly what she had planned for today, but it beats shoplifting. Or school liaison. Or Traffic. Everyone hates Traffic. She can hear PC Mansour behind her, scraping his shoes on the concrete as he shifts from one foot to the other. He's only just out of training and she's prepared to bet he hasn't done anything like this before.
`Don't fidget,' she hisses. `Makes us look like amateurs.'
The noises stop at once. But there's much more noise, now, from the other side of the door. A baby crying. Full throttle.
The door opens slowly and a woman in track pants and a black T-shirt peers out at them. She has a red-faced baby wedged against her shoulder and she's rubbing its back with that desperate automatic gesture all new mothers develop. Bonnett should know; she's had four of her own. This girl is pretty in a wrung-out and sleepless sort of way, but she can't be more than twenty-five. At least twenty years younger than Jonathan Blake, who is presumably the father of the baby. Yet another second-time-arounder, thinks Bonnett. Yet another middle-aged bloke who's walked out on his past-her-sell-by-date wife for a twenty-something upgrade and a shiny new family to match.
`What do you want?'
`Ms Barrow? Rachel Barrow? Sergeant Karen Bonnett. Can we come in for a moment?'
The woman's eyes widen. `What is it? Is it Jon `“ has he been in an accident?'
`Nothing like that. No need for you to worry. We just need a quick word.'
The woman steps forward and glances up and down the road. A couple of passers-by have stopped on the other side of the street and are watching with undisguised interest.
`OK,' she says quickly. `But just for a minute. I need to do the four o'clock feed.'
The sitting room has that trying-to-maintain-some-sort-of-order-despite-the-baby devastation Bonnett's seen so many times before. The biscuit-coloured sofas aren't going to last the course, that's for sure. And the cream satin cushions are already jostling with a bag of nappies, a packet of baby wipes and a discarded yellow and white Babygro. But give the girl credit; at least she's trying.
Mansour takes a seat without being asked and Bonnett flashes him a look which he doesn't see, largely because he's too busy eyeing up the plasma TV. Bonnett sighs. But when she tries to get Rachel to join her in a complicit smile she doesn't get a response.
`Can you tell me what this is about?'
`It's about Sasha,' says Bonnett. `Your partner's daughter.'
Rachel frowns. `What about her?'
They call Bonnett `Cawood' at the nick, after the Sarah Lancashire character in Happy Valley. And there's no question there's a resemblance. It's not just the hair `“ though the blonde definitely helps `“ it's all of it: the resilience, the shrewdness, the stand-your-ground-and-speak-your-mind.
`Is she here, Ms Barrow?'
`What do you mean `њis she here`ќ?' says Rachel. `Of course she's not here. I haven't even met her.'
Bonnett looks round the room. `But Mr Blake has, hasn't he? Recently, I mean.'
`I don't see how you `“'
`The pictures, Ms Barrow. That one over there, for a start `“ in the silver frame. That's Sasha, isn't it? Even from this distance I can tell that's not a toddler.'
The woman hoists the baby a little higher. `Why shouldn't he have a picture of her? It's not some sort of secret. We talked about it. Jon wanted to see her. He said they'd been kept apart for too long.'
`Why now, suddenly? After all these years?'
`It was the baby. Jon thought we should try to be a proper family. That it wasn't fair that Sasha didn't even know she has a brother. Especially now she's old enough to make her own choices.'
`Where's Mr Blake now, Ms Barrow?'
She flushes a little. `Down south. Berkshire. He's the sales manager for a pharmaceutical company. And you still haven't told me what this is about.'
`Sasha Blake is missing. And given she's been in recent contact with her father, Thames Valley Police asked us to check the premises to see if she's here.'
The woman's eyes widen and her grip on her baby tightens. The child starts to wail again.
`So could we do that, Ms Barrow? Check the house? For tidiness' sake?'
The woman hesitates a moment, then nods.
Bonnett gives Mansour a meaningful look and he gets hurriedly to his feet and goes back out into the hall. A moment later they hear his footsteps on the stairs.
`He won't find anything,' says Rachel firmly. `I told you `“ she's not here. She's never even visited. Jon met her in Oxford.'
`You just said Mr Blake is in Berkshire. That's not so far from Oxford. Was he intending to contact Sasha? Perhaps try and see her?'
Rachel flushes again. `Actually, he did say something about that, but I don't know if it came to anything. You'd have to ask him.'
`We've been trying,' says Bonnett drily. `But the number his office gave us appears to be off.'
Rachel reaches over and picks up a mobile from the coffee table. `I've had mine on mute,' she says, staring at the screen. `I was trying to get the baby down.' She looks up. `There's nothing from Jon but there are four missed calls from his mum. You spoke to her as well?'
`I'm afraid we had to `“ we needed Mr Blake's address.'
Rachel sighs. `And now she'll be on my case all afternoon.'
`Have you had any sort of contact with Mr Blake today?'
Rachel shakes her head. `He said he had a meeting all morning and to leave him an email if I needed anything. I can call him again now, if you like.'
`No, no,' says Bonnett quickly. `I'd rather you didn't do that. We'll make contact ourselves. You don't happen to know which company the meeting is with, do you?'
`It's Dexter Masterson. They're a private hospital group based in Reading. I can find their number `“ it's how Jon and I met `“ we worked together `“'
I bet you did, thinks Bonnett. `That's fine, Ms Barrow,' she says with a thin smile. `Don't you worry. We'll take it from here.'
* * *
`How are you doing?'
Gis is at the door of the Summertown High secretary's office, where Everett has taken up temporary residence. A line of girls has been trooping in and out to see her all day, and it's starting to feel rather like a confessional box. Not that anyone has anything to confess. The information Ev's collected isn't likely to help them much either. As far as her peers are concerned Sasha Blake is `really nice' and `smart but cool, you know?' She's `really pretty' and `everyone wants to look like her' and she's `really popular, specially with the boys', but no one could name an actual boyfriend, or at least not one at school. Which, given the fact that Isabel and Patsie don't know his name either, is hardly a surprise. In short, everyone seems to like Sasha, but no one has any idea where she might be.
Everett looks up at Gis and sighs. `I've ticked a lot of boxes, but I haven't got anything else to put in them. What about you?'
Gis shrugs. `Not much better. None of the teachers thought she had a boyfriend either, and I've spoken to all of them except one, who's gone home with a migraine, but we can catch them tomorrow.'
`Tomorrow?'
`Yeah, just got a call from Baxter. We're going to Reading. To see Jonathan Blake.'
* * *
`I've just had Jonathan's bloody mother on the phone asking me what's happened to Sasha `“ like it's all my fault. Why the hell didn't someone tell me you were going to call her?'