Page 48 of Good Girl, Bad Blood

‘Bingo,’ she said, when it came up. ‘We have a Hillary F. Weiseman who lives in Little Kilton. Has been on the electoral roll here . . . oh . . . from 1974 until 2006. Hold on.’ Pip opened another tab, googled the name along withLittle Kiltonandobituary. The first result from theKilton Mailgave her the answer she was looking for. ‘No, that can’t be the right Hillary. She died in 2006 aged eighty-four. Must be someone else. I’ll look into that later.’

Pip spread the bit of paper out in her fingers and took a photo of it on her phone.

‘You think it’s a clue?’ Connor asked.

‘Everything’s a clue until we discount it,’ she replied.

There was just one last thing left in the bin: an empty brown paper bag, scrunched up into a ball.

‘Connor, without disturbing anything too much, can you search the pockets in all of Jamie’s clothes?’

‘For what?’

‘Anything.’ Pip crossed to the other side of the room. She stopped and looked at the bed with its blue-patterned duvet, and her foot nudged into something on the floor. It was a mug, the sugar encrusted remains of tea coating the very bottom. But it wasn’t yet mouldy. The handle had broken off, lying a few inches away. Pip picked them up to show Joanna.

‘Not just a bit untidy,’ Joanna said, quiet affection in her voice. ‘Very untidy.’

Pip placed the mug, handle inside, on the bedside table, where it had probably been knocked from in the first place.

‘Just tissues and spare change,’ Connor reported back to her.

‘No luck here,’ Joanna said, typing away at the keyboard, the clack of the enter key louder and more desperate each time she tried.

On the bedside table, now in addition to the broken mug, was a lamp, a battered copy of Stephen King’sThe Stand, and the cord of an iPhone charger. There was one drawer below, before the table split into four rickety legs, and Pip knew that it would probably be where Jamie kept his more private items. She turned her back to block Connor and Joanna from seeing what she was doing, just in case, and pulled the drawer open. She was surprised to find there were no condoms, nor anything like that. There was Jamie’s passport, a set of tangled white earphones, a tub of multivitamins ‘with added iron’, a bookmark shaped like a giraffe and a watch. Pip’s attention was immediately drawn to the last item, for one reason only: it couldn’t have belonged to Jamie.

The delicate leather straps were in a blush pink colour and the case was shiny rose gold, with a cuff of metallic flowers climbing up the left side of the face. Pip ran her finger over them, the petals spiking into her finger.

‘What’s that?’ asked Connor.

‘A ladies’ watch.’ She spun around. ‘Is this yours, Joanna? Or Zoe’s?’

Joanna came over to inspect the watch. ‘No, neither of ours. I’ve never seen that before. Do you think Jamie bought it for someone?’

Pip could tell Joanna was thinking of Nat, but if ever there was a watch less suited to Nat da Silva, it was this one. ‘No,’ Pip said. ‘It’s not new, look – there’s scratches along the case.’

‘Well, whose watch is it, then? That Hillary’s?’ said Connor.

‘Don’t know,’ Pip said, placing the watch carefully back in the drawer. ‘It could be significant, could mean nothing. We just have to see. I think we’re done, for now.’ She straightened up.

‘OK, what next?’ Connor said, eyes falling restlessly on hers.

‘That’s all we can do here for tonight,’ Pip said, looking away from the disappointment creasing Connor’s face. Had he really thought she was going to solve this in just a few hours? ‘I want you two to keep trying to crack that login password. Write down all the possibilities you’ve tried. Try Jamie’s nicknames, favourite books, films, where he was born, anything you can think of. I’ll research a list of typical password elements and combinations, and give that to you tomorrow to help narrow it down.’

‘I will,’ Joanna said. ‘I won’t stop.’

‘And keep checking your phone,’ Pip said. ‘If that message ever delivers to him, I want to know straight away.’

‘What are you going to do?’ Connor asked.

‘I’m going to write down all the info I have so far, do some editing and recording, and draft the announcement for the website. Tomorrow morning, everyone is going to know that Jamie Reynolds is missing.’

They both gave her quick, awkward hugs at the front door, Pip stepping out into the night. She looked over her shoulder as she walked away. Joanna had already gone, heading back to Jamie’s computer, no doubt. But Connor was still there, watching her leave, looking like the scared little boy Pip once knew.