LITMIR.BIZ

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for calendars and naked kitten-rescuing.’ I wiped my forehead. I’d never sweated so much in my life. I was even repulsing myself. ‘If it carries on much longer, I might have to dig out my dress.’

      Jai fanned himself. ‘If it carries on much longer, I might have to dig out mine.’

      Craig snorted.

      ‘Why not?’ I said. ‘It’s ludicrous that it’s not seen as okay for men to wear dresses. It says all sorts of things about society’s attitudes that you really don’t want me to go into right now.’

      ‘No, we really don’t,’ Craig said. ‘And we also don’t want to see Jai in a dress.’

      ‘Anyway,’ I said. ‘The people who have easy access to the abattoir are: Anna Finchley, who owns it; Gary Finchley, who’s Anna’s brother and works there; and Daniel Twigg, who also works there. They all hate each other. Gary said Anna can’t stand Violet. He reckons Daniel’s a junkie, but he appears to be functioning. I think it’s drugs for pain relief – he has a bad back.’

      ‘Gary sounds like a nice chap,’ Jai said.

      ‘Yes, God love the bitter ones. Anyway, there’s that lot, and others could have got into the abattoir if they were loaned gate-clickers and keys. Or Violet could have let someone in. But if she wasn’t due at the abattoir till ten, why did she leave home at eight? It’s only a five-minute drive. Did she arrive at the abattoir early, maybe to meet someone? Or did she go somewhere else?’

      ‘Then there’s the abattoir waste,’ Jai added. ‘The Category 2 waste had been taken away before we arrived this morning, and we’re having trouble tracking down the company that disposed of it.’

      ‘Make no assumptions,’ I said. ‘We don’t have a body. We’re treating this as a high-risk missing person. Okay? We think she was wearing white overalls and DM-type boots. Witnesses say she always wears a brooch on a chain around her neck: a pelican. Never takes it off. There are lead mines in the area – the dogs should find a scent if she’s wandered off and fallen into one. There aren’t many houses nearby, but in the main Gritton village there’s loads of CCTV, so that should help us.’

      ‘Have we got her phone?’ Fiona said.

      ‘Unfortunately not.’

      ‘We’re on to the service provider to get call records and tower data,’ Jai added. ‘But if she didn’t make any calls, we’re screwed. And even if she did, the data doesn’t always help – there aren’t many towers in that area. But the techies are doing what they can. And before you ask, there was no sat-nav in her car.’

      I was conscious of a general shuffling of feet, as if they were keen to dash off. To catch the golden hour.

      ‘Without veering into the realms of the very unlikely, I reckon there are four basic scenarios,’ I said. ‘One – she’s alive and she left the abattoir on her own; two – she’s alive and she left the abattoir with someone, possibly against her will; three – she’s dead and someone disposed of her body at the abattoir, possibly with the missing waste; four – she’s dead and someone took her body away from the abattoir. If she’s alive and left with someone, or if she’s dead and someone took her away, that would most likely have involved a car. Which somebody may have seen. Do you agree?’

      They all nodded earnestly – except Craig, who was looking at me with the expression of a dog eyeing up a lamp post.

      ‘Anything else?’ I asked. ‘No matter how unlikely.’ I tried to soften my tone. I did my best to make the briefings non-scary, so people could talk without fear of having the piss taken, although it could be challenging with Craig and Jai around. I was well aware that if I wasn’t careful, I could end up with a queue of introverts at my door straight after the briefing, jostling for space with the folk from intelligence strategy, CSI, forensics, and family and media liaison. That I did not need.

      But nobody said anything. They were too far into greyhounds-in-starting-boxes mode.

      ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Dismiss nothing at this stage. We’ll do a short press briefing later today – get the photos out and an initial appeal. And let’s find that abattoir waste before it’s turned into puppy food and porky twizzlers.’

5

      Violet’s friend Izzy sat in one of our nicer interview rooms looking very young and overwhelmed. She had a standard-issue teenage look with long, straightened hair and highly defined eyebrows. I was hoping Jai would turn on his charm and get her talking, because if anyone knew what was going on with Violet, it was likely to be her best friend.

      Izzy fiddled with her hair, stroking it like a pet. ‘Is Violet okay? She’s gone like totally off-grid.’

      Jai activated big-brown-eyes mode. ‘When did you last hear from her?’

      Izzy softened. Brown-eyes mode successfully received. ‘Yesterday afternoon. She said she’d come up with more info and she’d be in touch later. But she never called and she hasn’t posted anywhere. Something must have happened to her.’

      This was kids nowadays. Anyone who was out of the social media loop for more than a few hours was assumed dead or at least in a coma.

      ‘Have you still got the message she sent you?’ Jai asked.

      Izzy fished out her phone and tapped the screen. ‘Here.’

      Five p.m. on Sunday: Think I might be on to something. Let you know later xx.

      ‘On to something about what?’ Jai said.

      Izzy sniffed. ‘Probably about her real dad.’

      ‘Her real dad?’ Jai said.

      ‘Yeah, she was adopted.’

      I glanced at Jai. He raised his eyebrows. We hadn’t known that.

      Izzy carried on: ‘She doesn’t talk about it much. Her real mum’s dead, but Violet knew she originally came from Gritton. She doesn’t know who her dad was.’

      ‘Is that why she found a job in Gritton? So she could look for her biological father?’

      ‘Yes. But she didn’t want anyone to know. With her being … who she is and all that. She was really messed up about it. I told her it might be best to leave it be, but she wouldn’t. Do you think she found him and …’

      We waited, but she didn’t say more. At least that answered the question of why Violet had come to a backwater village in the boonies. ‘Did she have any idea who her biological father was?’ Jai asked.

      ‘No. She knew her mother’s name – Rebecca Smith – but she died when Violet was a baby. So Violet was asking questions in the village, hoping to find out who her dad was. But, like, carefully, not telling anyone why she was asking. I wondered if somebody had told her. And if Violet was going to try and see him. Last night, I mean.’

      ‘If she found her biological father,’ I said, ‘do you think there’s a chance she might stay with him for a while and not tell anyone?’

      ‘She’d contact me. She’d know how worried I’d be. And she’d want to tell me she’d found him.’

      I was holding on to the possibility that Violet had disappeared voluntarily, even as the likelihood slipped away with each passing minute. ‘You know you have to tell us if she’s been in touch, Izzy, don’t you?’ I said. ‘Even if she made you promise not to? We’re very concerned about her.’

      Izzy shook her head, hair flying. ‘She hasn’t been in touch! I’m not lying. Honestly!’

      I should have let smooth-operator Jai carry on asking the questions. I didn’t have the knack with this one.

      I smiled at her, trying to get her to calm the hell down, and indicated to Jai to carry

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