There was no sound except the gentle rustling of the leaves above him as he stood, lost in thought, on the quiet country lane. The scent of grass came to him on the warm air and he closed his eyes, enjoying the moment of peace. They had been due a bit of luck. Days had stretched into weeks with nothing to show for their efforts, just one dead end after another. But this was more than just luck – this was a proper, old-fashioned hunch that had paid off. It had been Mendel who first asked the question: if Vicky regularly went out running, wasn’t there a chance that she might have had an iPod, or something, to listen to music? ‘Spend a lot of time watching young women jogging?’ Pope had teased, and they’d all laughed, seizing any opportunity to lighten the mood that could otherwise become unbearable. But Mendel’s idea was a good one. They’d gone back through the list of names, spoken to her family and friends and discreetly poked around. Yes, poor Vicky loved her music, and come to think of it she had got herself one of those new MP3 players, a little silver one.
