Pauline Rowson - A Killing Coast

And the necklace brought Horton back to Adrian Stanley. He knew now what Stanley had been trying to tell him. It had been something to do with the brooch that his wife had been wearing in the photograph taken when Stanley had gone to the Palace to collect his Queen’s Gallantry Medal. Had PC Adrian Stanley stolen it from Jennifer’s flat when following up the missing person’s report, or had someone given it to him as payment for his part in stifling what he had discovered?

Had Stanley’s first stroke been deliberately provoked by shock, or fear? Had someone entered Stanley’s apartment after his visit there on Monday morning, terrorized the man or threatened him into keeping silent about what he knew about Jennifer’s disappearance?

Horton recalled that blue van. But that could have been a decoy, and perhaps the girl with the dog, the man with the canoe or the jogger with his iPod plugged into his ears had been watching Stanley and waiting. And why now? Simple: Horton had made contact with him and with the social services, and if Sawyer knew that, then so too did the person who wanted the real reason behind Jennifer’s disappearance kept secret.

Well, on Monday Horton would return to the social services offices to see if they’d managed to find any more files about his childhood, but he knew they wouldn’t have. Just as in 1978 someone had wiped the trail clean, so they had now. Only this time they’d left a small trace: a missing photograph. The fact that the photograph was missing was his first big break, and it was their first mistake. With a grim smile, Horton swung the Harley eastwards and headed for his yacht and home.