now, nathan coates had been in the force for six years, in cid for eighteen months, at lafferton from the start. he knew he could not have dealt with patrolling his own patch, arresting his own former neighbours and schoolmates, and besides, he wanted to get out as the second step to a new life. he worked hard and cheerfully, he played hockey for the regional team and, to everyone's amazement, lived with an exceptionally pretty girlfriend who was a midwife at bevham general.

'you're a star,' said freya, 'but i need you for something else, just for an hour or so.'

'ok, sarge.' nathan shut down the database and followed freya to her desk, where she filled him in on angela randall.

'sounds weird.'

'you think?'

'not the sort who'd just take off. that's kids in trouble at home, men who can't stand their nagging missus another day or ones who've had their fingers in the till and get wind that someone's sussed them. she don't fit.'

'i'm glad you agree. i'm concerned about this one, but as far as the di is concerned, it's just another missing person.'

'file 'em, forget 'em, i get the picture, sarge. if anyone asks, i'm like, "who's angela randall?"'

'got it.'

'what do you want me to do?'

'go back over the missing persons file for the last year, eighteen months, see if any other case has a look of this one ... you know the sort of thing. i can't be specific but if it's there it'll ring bells. read up the notes on randall first. pull out anything and leave it on my desk.'

'are you off again?'

'officially, i'm back at the business park among the embezzlers.'

'and?'

'i'm nipping into bevham to visit a very expensive jeweller's.'

'sugar daddy lent you his credit card for the day then?'

freya took her jacket off the back of her chair. 'certainly.'

if there had not been the embezzlement case and angela randall to take her out, she would have had to cook up something. it was better for her not to be in the station much today. she wanted to see simon serrailler, wanted to bump into him in the corridor, find an excuse to go to his office, attend any briefing he might be giving ... anything. she wanted to look at him, in uniform, at work, when he was 'sir', wanted to prove that her feelings had been temporary and ridiculous, some sort of delayed emotion related to the end of her marriage. she had looked at simon serrailler and been momentarily attracted to him, as anyone might, and had built on the flush of physical feeling to assume she had fallen in love.

e. j. duckham & son had an entry bell and a cctv which scrutinised potential shoppers before they were allowed in. before pressing it, freya looked in the double-fronted windows, at diamond necklaces, earrings and brooches without any visible price, sapphire, emerald, ruby and diamond rings, rolex and patek phillipe watches. she wondered who, in bevham, could possibly be customers for any of these, as well as the more bread-and-butter silver bowls and the tiny pearl bracelets for newborn infants. bevham had its expensive side, to the south around cranbrook drive and the heights, where detached houses with long drives and huge gardens went on sale at three-quarters of a million pounds and rising, and some of the villages had the odd wealthy inhabitant, whether retired merchant bank chairman or reclusive pop star, but they were not likely to buy their baubles in bevham. casting a second lingering look at a delicate silver filigree and star-diamond choker, she pressed the bell for entry, and as the door swung soundlessly back, flipped open her warrant card.

the place had the sort of velvet hush special to jewellers and designer dress salons; the woman behind the counter was as impeccably groomed and coiffed as a royal lady-in-waiting, and the man who came to greet freya had the smooth charm she associated with jermyn street, from where his pinstriped suit and lavender tie must surely have come.

'i do hope you've come bearing good news, sergeant.'

'good news?' freya knew there had been a series of raids on jewellers' shops the previous year, and presumed e. j. duckham had been one of them. 'if it's about the thefts ...'

'oh no, no, i doubt if you'll ever catch those raiders, they'll have come from birmingham or manchester and disappeared up the motorway very fast. no, i meant about miss randall. one of your officers was in here a week or so ago asking about her. i gather she had gone away unexpectedly?'

'we're pursuing several lines of inquiry as to exactly what has happened, mr duckham.'

'you mean she is still missing from home?'

'do you know her well?'

'not at all, but she has been a very good customer of ours over the past - what - eighteen months, something like that, and we pride ourselves here on personal service.'

'the uniformed officer will have questioned you about the cufflinks miss randall purchased in early december.'

'indeed. extremely nice ones. lapis lazuli. beautifully made.'

'could you tell me how much they were?'

he looked disapproving.

'i understand that is not the sort of information you would normally give out but this might be important.'

'how, precisely?'

when there was no good answer to a legitimate question, you hid behind official jargon.

'it would be relevant to one of several leads we're pursuing.'

nathan would have described the man's expression as po-faced but after another hesitation, he sighed, and went into a glass-panelled office at the back of the shop, where freya could see him tapping a keyboard. their pride in being old-fashioned clearly did not extend to a scorn of computers. behind the glass counter on the opposite side of the shop the woman with impeccably coiffed hair was polishing a crystal rose bowl, which caught the light prettily. she glanced up, did not meet freya's smile, and carried on polishing. dirt beneath your feet then, freya thought.

'the cufflinks were