Rupert placed the two reports side by side on his desk. Joan Dickson to the left and April Thompson to the right. He stared at the faded photographs. You'll never know how much I need you to talk to me. There's no evidence to point the finger at anyone. You two left home to visit a vicar and were never seen again. Were they escaping a situation or decided to start a new life elsewhere?

The adage of being between a rock and a hard place came to mind. "I'm going mad in my old age," he muttered. "Blackwell's records are in the room in front of me. All I have to do is find them."

Maggie saw him leaving his office and strolled towards him. "Is there a problem, sir?"

"Where are Blackwell's police station records? I need to check out their missing person files."

She glanced at Rupert. He was well-spoken, and she was only half listening. "Did you say the Blackwell station files?"

"I did."

"I'll bring them to your office."

"Not necessary. I need to know how the system works. When you're an Inspector, you'll move on."

She shrugged. "That'll be the day, sir."

"Buddy Holly and the Crickets. Poor sod died in a plane crash."

"Believe it or not, I've heard of them. Anyway, follow me. The Blackwell records are on the right-hand side and first in the row. As the county's central station, we made it number one. All other stations follow in alphabetic order." She stopped at the start of a long row of shelving. "We have loads to do, but we'll find your person missing files under PM".

Rupert stared at her. "You do know being a missing person is not a crime? The police help find missing persons. It becomes a crime depending on the circumstances of their disappearance."

Maggie smiled. "A long time ago, I read an information pack on missing persons." She checked out various box files from a pile on the bottom shelf. "Eureka, we have persons missing. What decade do you want?"

Rupert gave the question a moment's thought. "The last. I can afterwards work backwards."

Her forehead creased. "Do you want a hand?"

"When I find what I'm searching for, I'll give you a shout. These are disgusting. Where did they keep them?"

"In the boiler room. It appears the staff considered it a dry, secure place."

"Fire hazard if you ask me. Still, this," he pointed at the shelving, "will change record-keeping forever. And ten out of ten for your filing system. It works."

Maggie grabbed the four filthy files and carried them into Rupert's office. "I'm wearing a coverall. What would Joyce say if you arrived home covered in crap?"

He chuckled. "Wouldn't be the first time. I remember chasing a villain along the river in Hoxton as a newbie constable. It was raining, and my foot found a rabbit hole. Seconds later, I was in the river, struggling to decide which way was up or down. Two strong arms grabbed me and dragged me to the bank. Guess who? The villain I'd been chasing. He made sure I was okay before he buggered off. Never did see him again."

"How's Joyce coping with her promotion?"

"Not sure." Rupert rubbed his chin. "She loved being an inspector chasing the bad guy. In general, her contemporaries hated domestic violence, but she had a way with people. Especially those less fortunate. Anyway, thanks for finding these. I'd better start reading."

"What are you hunting for?"

"I don't know, but call it an old copper's instinct. I'll know when I find it."

"Best of luck. I usually waste plenty of time before the penny drops."

Rupert watched her leave. He cleared his desk and opened the first box. His eyes scanned the top sheet. Barbara Long, date of birth and an address in Stonewell, went missing on a warm summer day in 1987. Turning the page, it appeared she ran away and cohabited with an older man in Newcastle. From what he read, using her credit card gave away her location. The local plod did the business, but no one had closed the file. No one bothered until it became lost in the file. Missing persons rarely floated to the top unless they were VIPs or front page news. He grimaced. Cold cases were where someone took notice. Searching in his right-hand drawer, he found the correct stamp and added FILE CLOSED at the top of every page.

***

Joyce sat at her desk and stared at her in-tray. She did not bemoan her promotion. After all, hard work had overcome the age-old prejudice of promoting women. She missed the cut and thrust of the incident room, the banter, and the odd bawdy joke. Now, paperwork appeared to take priority.

She glanced at the phone on her desk, wishing it would ring. The downside was if it rang, it would mean someone was in trouble.

She jumped as its soft tone dragged her into the moment. "Chief Inspector Parsons."

"Hi, Joyce. Have you a few minutes spare in your busy schedule?"

"Harry Harris, great to hear from you. I'm listening if you're about to give me good news."

"Depends. I took Sergeant Pete Roden out for a beer yesterday afternoon."

"You're not exactly friends. How did you persuade him?"

A dirty laugh rattled the telephone. "I told Roden if he wants to retire with a full pension, my advice was gold dust. At first, he thought I was mad until I mentioned his antagonist, Inspector Talbot.

"When we met in the pub, I bought the beer. Roden appeared at ease until I mentioned Talbot. The blood drained from his face when I told him rapist Talbot would soon be in court on two counts of rape.

"He almost choked on his beer. He did say I was talking rubbish until I produced my copy of the activity sheet."

"Wait a minute, Harry. What do you think he might do?"

"When I mentioned DNA evidence and a copy of the carpenter's receipt to fix the door, he went quiet. I asked him why he covered for Talbot. A few years back, it seems Talbot found him and a female sergeant having it off in an empty cell.

"Talbot, the bastard, assured Roden he never saw a thing. Payback arrived when he planned to rape a member of the course he instructed. He gave precise instructions to a terrified Roden. I checked the nights Roden was on duty, and it matched our two known rapes. Once word gets out, a few other female police officers will hopefully come out of the woodwork."

"I hope so," said Joyce. "Talbot believes he's bulletproof, but we have enough to blow him into orbit."

"Roden knows Talbot will drag him into his defence and asked me if there was a way he could salvage his pension. I gave him Samantha Harman's telephone number and told him to arrange an appointment. But to save his skin, he must hand over the fake incident log."

"Do you think he'll contact her?"

"Guaranteed. The pension is all Roden has. More than ever, if his wife learned about his extra sexual activities, she would take him to the cleaners. Have you met her? She makes the villain Rosa Klebb, in the Bond film From Russia with Love, cute."

"Thank you for your help, Harry. When this shit hits the fan, duck."

"Don't worry about me. I'm off to another nick up north."

"More rotten apples?"

"One or two."