Page 109 of Stolen Ones

Swift’s tense expression told Kim she was eager to move on.

‘Do you have any idea how she came to be buried at the site of a project worked on by both you and a convicted sex offender?’

‘I have no idea,’ he said easily.

‘Okay, I’d like to talk to you about another little girl named—’

‘My client is under arrest for the abduction and murder of Lexi Walters. Why would he know—?’

‘Your client has demonstrated an impeccable memory when it comes to the historic accounts of missing girls, Ms Swift. He may remember something we missed.’

Harte held up his hand to his lawyer. ‘It’s okay. I’ll certainly help if I can.’

Until they had results one way or another from Wyley Court or Clent, she could at least try and identify them using the cat-and-mouse game they’d been playing. Both she and Steven Harte knew the rules of the game, but his lawyer and, unfortunately, the video did not.

‘Do you recall the case of a girl aged eight called Paula Stiles?’

He frowned, and Kim’s breath caught in her chest. They were digging up Wyley Court fountain based on the timeline of her disappearance.

‘Could you refresh my memory?’

‘Eight-year-old Paula was on a day trip with other kids from the children’s home where she lived.’

‘Oh, dear, doesn’t sound like she had the best start in life.’

‘Indeed, Mr Harte,’ Kim said, suspecting she didn’t have the best end to her life either.

He made a show of thinking about it.

Kim held her breath.

‘Wasn’t she last seen in the Cotswolds somewhere.’

‘The wildlife park,’ she clarified, letting out a breath. His acknowledgement confirmed they were on track with the identification. She crossed her fingers that the location was just as accurate.

‘Yes, I read somewhere that she was a lonely child, that her stints in and out of foster care had turned her into a secular girl, at ease in her own company.’

‘And yet she never returned. I wonder why.’

‘Perhaps she’s still out there somewhere. Perhaps she ran away and made a good life for herself.’

‘Or maybe she’s buried beneath another project you and Butler worked on together.’

Swift leaned forward. ‘Inspector, I suggest you keep your idle musings to—’

‘Do you remember a little girl named Helen Blunt? She was seven years old when she was abducted from a summer fayre in Shrewsbury in 2002.’

‘Not a town I know well, although I have visited it on occasion. They have a summer fayre?’ he asked.

‘They do indeed. Does anything spring to mind?’

He tapped his chin. ‘You know, I do recall reading about a little girl who was taken. If I’m right, the witnesses recalled the event slightly differently to the mother. Wasn’t there violence involved?’

‘A slap.’

‘Oh, I think the papers said it was a bit more than that. Didn’t the mother take her time in reporting the disappearance of her daughter? Of course, if she’d been beating her—’

‘Or it was an isolated incident of frustration from a frazzled mother dealing with three young children on her own.’