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‘I’m not sure about this, Kirby,’ Lottie said as they exited the car outside the school. It was a sprawling mishmash of interconnected buildings located on a small hill a few hundred metres from the Moorland houses.

‘Well, you said you remembered Rex mentioning a Maggie getting a lift to school in a taxi.’

‘But still… Let’s see how far we get.’ She shook out her arms, trying to dispel the smoky smell, as Kirby entered the school showing his ID.

The grey-haired school secretary played her role like a Rottweiler, insisting they could not come further onto the premises without an appointment. ‘Child protection and safety are paramount.’

With her patience skating on the thinnest of ice, Lottie flashed her own ID, her finger under the word Inspector . ‘It’s imperative that I speak with the principal. He can come out here to talk if we can’t enter.’

With a strangled sigh, the woman punched a number on the phone.

‘Mr Cohen, two detectives are here to talk to you. They don’t have an appointment.’

She raised an eyebrow at his reply and a buzzer beeped on the door beside Lottie. She entered a long, narrow corridor lined with closed doors and little coats hanging on hooks. A young man appeared and gestured for them to enter his office.

‘Sorry about Belinda. She’s good at her job.’

‘She could use better manners.’ Lottie could have bitten her tongue when she saw his crestfallen expression.

‘I apologise, but we have to be careful. I was physically assaulted twice last year by irate parents. Sit, please.’

He slumped into a tattered swivel chair behind an overflowing desk, his face drawn and haggard. He couldn’t be older than forty, but stress lines feathered his eye sockets and mouth. His shirt needed the rub of an iron and his tie was as askew as his blonde hair. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘We need some information about a pupil.’

‘Not sure what I can tell you, but fire ahead.’

‘We’re investigating a series of murders and the abduction of a young woman. During our investigation, we found this page from a school book.’ She passed over the photocopy Kirby had arranged, the original already dispatched for forensic examination. ‘You can see the name Maggie printed on it. We need to talk to this girl.’

‘Why do you think she’s at my school?’

‘Rex McGovern attends here, and he told us about a Maggie who gets dropped to the school by taxi. We’re hoping you might enlighten us.’

‘Even if I wanted to, my hands are tied. We have to protect our pupils and?—’

‘Mr Cohen, I need to know if this is from your school.’

‘It could be, yes.’

‘You know who this Maggie is, right?’

He tapped his computer. ‘Yes.’

‘I need her full name and address.’

‘I’m sorry, I can’t give?—’

‘This page was found close to a crime scene. I need to speak to Maggie.’

‘That’s impossible. She’s not in school this week. Chickenpox, the text said. It’s rife at the moment.’

Lottie opened her mouth to protest further, then hesitated. She’d recently heard of someone having chickenpox. Think. Yesterday. George Kenny had said his son had it. Was he connected to this Maggie? But Davy was too young for school. Was there a link?

‘I’ll be back with a warrant, Mr Cohen. And if this Maggie comes to harm or the missing woman turns up dead, I will hold you responsible for not giving me the information I’ve asked for.’ She knew she should have toned it down, but feck him.

‘You’re bang out of order, Inspector. You should leave.’

‘I want her full name and address,’ Lottie pressed.

‘Inspector Parker,’ Kirby said, ‘I think we should go. Now.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Mr Cohen said. ‘Really sorry.’