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tightly. “If you’ll excuse us.”
    As he turns away, I can see tiny scars behind his ears. Oh, for God’s sake. This is about his personal vanity. That’s why he’s denying he knows Dad. Cyndi has hurried to help a fallen child, but before Corey can disappear too, Mum grabs his arm.

    “My husband’s missing!” says Mum dramatically. “You’re our only hope!”
    “Look, I’m sorry, but you must be the same Corey,” I say firmly. “I know you are. Has my dad come here? Have you heard anything from him?”
    “This conversation is over.” He glares at me.
    “Are you in touch with Brent or Raymond?” I persist. “Did you know that Brent’s been living in a trailer? My dad says he’s got to ‘put something right.’ Do you know what that is?”
    “Please leave my property,” says Corey flatly. “It’s my daughter’s birthday party. I’m sorry I can’t help you.”
    “Can you give us Raymond’s surname, at least?”
    “Raymond Earle?” says Cyndi brightly, rejoining the group. “That’s the only Raymond I ever heard Corey talk about.”
    I glance at Corey, and he looks livid.
    “Cyndi, don’t talk to these people,” he snaps. “They’re just leaving. Go back to the party.”
    “Cyndi, where does Raymond live?” I quickly ask. “Isn’t it Albuquerque? Or San Diego? Or is it…Milwaukee?”
    I’m just plucking places from the air, hoping it’ll prod her into answering, and it works.
    “Well, no, he’s down near Tucson, right?” She glances uncertainly at Corey. “Only he’s a bit nuts, isn’t he, babe? Total recluse? I mean, I overheard you talking….” She quails at Corey’s look and falls silent.
    “So you are in touch with him!” I feel a surge of frustration. We’re so on the right track. But if this stupid plastic-faced idiot won’t help us, we’ll be stuck again. “Corey, what happened in 1972? Why’s my dad gone on this mission? What happened? ”

    “Please get off my property,” says Corey, wheeling round. “I’m calling my security team. This is a private birthday party.”
    “My name is Rebecca!” I shout after him. “Does that mean anything to you?”
    “Oh!” exclaims Cyndi. “Like your oldest, hon!”
    Corey turns back and I can see him staring at me, the weirdest look on his face. No one else speaks. In fact, I think everyone’s holding their breath. He has a daughter called Rebecca too. What is going on ?
    Then he wheels round again and strides back toward the party.
    “Well, great to meet you guys!” says Cyndi uncertainly. “Pick up a party bag for your little one as you leave.”
    “Oh, we couldn’t do that!” I say at once. “They’re for your guests.”
    “But we have way too many. Please, go ahead.” She hurries after Corey, stumbling a little on her heels. I can hear her saying in puzzled tones, “Babe, what’s up?”
    A few moments later, the guy in the linen suit rounds the corner of the house, accompanied by two guys who are not in linen suits. They’re in jeans, and they have crew cuts and those expressionless faces which say Only doing my job as they beat you to a pulp.
    You know. I’m assuming.
    “Um, let’s go,” I say nervously.
    “Goodness,” gulps Janice. “Those men look rather threatening .”
    “Big bullies!” says Mum indignantly, and I have a sudden dreadful image of her squaring up to them with her Oxshott Senior Ladies’ Self-Defense Group moves.

    “Mum, we need to go,” I say, before she can get any bright ideas.
    “I think we should leave,” agrees Alicia. “We’ve learned all we can for now.”
    “Thanks!” I call to the crew-cut guys. “We’re on our way out. Super party, we’re just getting our party bag….”
    As I steer Minnie to a table covered in massive loot bags, Cyndi reappears, holding a cocktail. She sees us approaching the table and hurries over.
    “I’m so sorry about that,” Cyndi says breathlessly. “My husband can be a grouch with people he doesn’t know. I say