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young woman working in television, he’d been all fired up, but now that there was this added element he would be less enthusiastic. Martin was eight years younger than Kim and so fixated on climbing through the ranks, he only wanted the glory jobs. He wasn’t interested in the grubby, tangled ones. She’d hoped that would count against him when it came to them both going for promotion. She was definitely a better, more thorough officer. But he didn’t have kids. He didn’t have to take days off when there was an inset day at school or drop everything to race home when they got sick and needed picking up.
    ‘The thing is,’ Travis told them, ‘because she was out shopping, we don’t know exactly when she went missing.’
    ‘Why does that matter?’ One of the brothers. Jeremy. ‘She didn’t come home last night. She didn’t show up this morning. It’s Christmas Day. Who goes missing on Christmas Day? It’s totally out of character. Something must have happened to her.’
    ‘I do understand your concern,’ Martin said, in his mild, toneless voice. ‘But in the case of someone Jessica’s age, we don’t normally treat it as a missing-person inquiry until they’ve been gone a full twenty-four hours, and that’s what we can’t yet ascertain.’
    ‘But,’ Kim chimed in before the family could erupt, ‘in Jessica’s case, we would consider her to be particularly vulnerable, so we’ll get moving on it straight away.’
    She felt Martin stiffen beside her, but didn’t look at him.
    ‘Now, we’ll need a recent photograph, so that we can put it on the system.’

Chapter Twelve
    Dominic and I faced each other across the dinner table. We were both wearing paper crowns we’d got from crackers. Mine was pink and his was blue. It matched his eyes. So did mine.
    In between us was the carcass of a huge turkey that, pre-basted, pre-roasted, had required just forty-five minutes in the oven. For the last twenty minutes it had been joined by foil containers of Brussels sprouts with chestnuts and honey-glazed carrots and mounds of roast potatoes. Also cranberry sauce, bread sauce, apple sauce and gravy.
    Now those empty foil cartons were littered around the table and my distended stomach was proof of where they had all ended up. My lips were greasy with turkey fat.
    All through that endless first day of Christmas, we had been locked away together listening to festive music and playing Scrabble and Monopoly. Playing games with Dominic was exhausting. If I did badly he’d accuse me of not trying. Too well and he became mean. He quizzed me about how my family spent Christmas Day and when he heard we play charades, he insisted on a game, just the two of us. ‘It’ll be fun,’ he said, the dimple in his cheek winking as he spoke. ‘Just like being at home.’ He threw back his head and laughed. ‘I’m James Stewart. It’s A Wonderful Life. ’ When he grew tired of games, we watched DVDs using one of the white walls as a screen and projecting the images from a computer. White Christmas , The Wizard of Oz . All the classics. When I asked if he had a proper TV, hoping I might catch a glimpse of the news and find out if anyone was searching for me, he gave me the look I was coming to recognize as his Disappointed Look.
    ‘Now why would you want to let the outside world in?’ he asked. ‘Aren’t I enough for you?’
    I had to sit on the floor after that. And though before I’d been on the comfortable sofa, I actually preferred it on the bare boards because his finger wasn’t running up and down my arm. Like a cockroach.
    After a while he got up from the table and headed over to the Christmas tree.
    ‘It’s time,’ he said, and I could sense the excitement basking like a shark under the calm surface of his voice.
    When he came back, he was carrying a small package, holding it carefully as if it was made of the most delicate glass.
    ‘But I haven’t got you anything,’ I said.
    ‘Don’t worry,