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run the studio piece the DCI did with their presenter.’
    ‘I’ll need someone to stay late to pick up any strong leads as soon as it airs, please,’ Ray said to the group. ‘The rest we can get to in slow-time.’ There was a pause and he looked around expectantly. ‘Someone’s got to do it…’
    ‘I don’t mind.’ Kate waved a hand in the air and Ray gave her an appreciative glance.
    ‘What about the fog light Phil mentioned?’ Ray said.
    ‘Volvo have given us the part number, and we’ve got a list of all the garages who have been sent one in the last ten days. I’ve tasked Malcolm with contacting them all – starting with the local ones – and getting the index numbers of cars they’ve been fitted to since the collision.’
    ‘Okay,’ Ray said. ‘Let’s keep that in mind when we’re making enquiries but remember it’s just one piece of evidence – we can’t be absolutely certain it’s a Volvo we’re looking for. Who’s leading on CCTV?’
    ‘We are, boss.’ Brian Walton raised his hand. ‘We’ve seized everything we could get our hands on: all the council CCTV, and anything from the businesses and petrol stations in the area. We’ve gone for just the half-hour before the collision and the half-hour afterwards, but even so there are several hundred hours to get through.’
    Ray winced at the thought of his overtime budget. ‘Let me see the list of cameras,’ he said. ‘We won’t be able to watch all of it, so I’d like your thoughts on what to prioritise.’
    Brian nodded.
    ‘Plenty to be getting on with, then,’ Ray said. He gave a confident smile, despite his misgivings. They were a fortnight on from the ‘golden hour’ immediately following a crime, when chances of detection were highest, and although the team was working flat out, they were no further forward. He paused, before breaking the bad news. ‘You won’t be surprised to hear that all leave has been cancelled until further notice. I’m sorry, and I’ll do what I can to make sure you all get some time with your families over Christmas.’
    There was a murmur of dissent as everyone filed out of the office, but no one complained, and Ray knew they wouldn’t. Although no one voiced it, they were all thinking of what Christmas would be like for Jacob’s mother this year.

4
     
    My determination falters almost as soon as we leave Bristol. I hadn’t considered where I might go. I head blindly west, thinking perhaps I might go to Devon, or to Cornwall. I think wistfully of childhood holidays; building sandcastles on the beach with Eve, sticky with ice lollies and sun cream. The memory draws me towards the sea; calls me away from the tree-lined avenues of Bristol, away from the traffic. I feel an almost physical fear of these cars that can’t wait to overtake as the bus pulls into the station. I wander aimlessly for a while, then hand over ten pounds to a man in a kiosk by the Greyhound coaches who doesn’t care where I’m going any more than I do.
    We cross the Severn Bridge, and I look down at the swirling mass of bilge-grey water that is the Bristol Channel. The coach is quietly anonymous, and here no one is reading the Bristol Post . No one is talking about Jacob. I lean back into my seat. I’m exhausted but I don’t dare close my eyes. When I sleep I’m assaulted by the sights and sounds of the accident; by the knowledge that had I been just a few minutes earlier, it would never have happened.
    The Greyhound coach is going to Swansea, and I steal a glance around to see the company I’m keeping. They are students, in the main, plugged into music and engrossed in magazines. A woman my age is reading through papers and making neat notes in the margins. It seems ludicrous that I’ve never been to Wales, but now I’m glad I have no connection here. It is the perfect place for a new beginning.
    I’m the last to get off, and I wait at the bus station until the coach has left, the adrenalin of my departure a