Wardle had asked to meet them at a café near Denmark Street rather than at The Feathers. Strike wasn't used to policeman requesting to meet with him out of the blue. Although his relationship with Wardle had improved each time Strike had provided him with a tied-up case. To be fair Wardle hadn't turned out to be as stupidly obstinate as DI Carver, although he had never admitted to the wrongs of obstructing Strike's suggestions for lines of enquiry, which had resulted in a stab wound for Strike.

"Any ideas what it's about?" Robin asked Strike as he chomped his way through her leftovers, even though he had just finished his double-everything fry-up. Robin sat across from him in the red booth, she still felt awe at how much he could eat in one sitting.

"He never said but he didn't sound like his usual cocky self," he said, a touch sullen.

"That's to be expected though, after what happened to his brother."

"Maybe," Strike shrugged.

Robin understood a little better now that Strike's surface flippancy didn't mean he was without compassion but was more of a coping mechanism for witnessing so much death perpetrated by the darkest side of human nature. Leaning forward she caught up his hand and held the back of it against her cheek, the dark hair brushing against her cheek until she could press her lips against his knuckles. He watched her before turning his hand around to cup her cheek and stroke her lips with his thumb. The door opened and he dropped his arm quickly, "Wardle!"

Robin pressed her fingers to her tingling lips as if to hold the sensation there.

"Alright?" Wardle nodded at Strike, "Robin?"

"H..Hi!" she replied, tightening her tone as she realised her voice sounded too throaty. As she looked at him to Cormorant, she saw the later was trying to stifle a sly smile.

"Tea?" Cormoran asked.

"Yeah, I'll get it. Anything for you two?"

Robin shook her head but Strike asked for more tea. While Wardle went up to the counter, Cormoran raised his eyebrows with a look that showed this kind of generosity from Wardle was unexpected. Wardle clearly needed something from them. Robin swallowed a chuckle.

When he returned, Robin moved over so Wardle could slide into the seat next to her.

"How are you?" she queried with tempered sympathy.

"Oh, you know…April's pregnant actually."

"Congratulations!" Strike had met April and liked her so much it had warmed him to Wardle, but doubted Wardle had asked him here to tell him this, "April is Wardle's wife,' he looked towards Robin.

"Yeah…ur… that's why I wanted to see you both really. How's business?" Wardle rubbed at the table with his fingertips at a mark that wasn't there.

"Yeah, good." What Strike didn't want to say in front of Robin was that solving the Shacklewell Ripper case had been really good for them, "Back to having to turn down work. In fact, we might be taking on a case that you could help us with?"

"Oh yeah?" Wardle was curious.

"The Arno Grant disappearance"

Wardle shook his head, "I'd stay away from that if I were you. It's a complete fuck-up. Did you hear the mother's been charged?"

"Mmm…the husband met with us yesterday," Robin informed him.

"Carver is on that case too. He's been told this is his last chance. He's desperate for the collar before he gets stuck behind a desk. Vanessa Ekwensi is your best bet – you've met her. She likes you," he nodded towards Strike, "Don't understand it myself."

Robin smiled at Strike, "It's a mystery."

"I'll text you her number. Will you be looking for any other investigators then?" Wardle sounded strained.

Strike raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

"Since what happened to my brother, April's found it really hard not to worry about me and the job – there was a bit of a scare a few weeks ago because of it. We thought she was going to lose the baby." Wardle tried to rub the tension from his forehead, "If you were still thinking of taking someone on, I wanted you to know I'd be interested."

Strike's eye's slid to Robin who shrugged one shoulder to show it wasn't the worst idea she had heard. With the possibility of the Grant case, they didn't want to get themselves into the same situation they had before where clients were complaining. Also, Strike had risked his life more than once to recover the business from a no-man's-land where he would have been left near destitute.

She had been an equal partner for only a couple of months – when she gave her mother and father the check to pay back the wedding expenses, they had suggested she keep it and invest it into the business and her future. After much persuasion, she had agreed, she had been happier training to be an investigator than she had ever been about marrying Matthew. However, Cormoran had started the business from scratch, he had refused to take a handout from his own father and she had felt embarrassed to put the proposition to him. Nonetheless, Cormoran had been rendered momentarily speechless at the risk she was willing to take, not for the first time, when just over a year before the business had nearly been ground into the dust.

"Well?" She prompted him hesitantly nudging his thigh with her knee.

He hadn't taken his eyes off her during her pre-prepared speech and his face blank with surprise shifted to pleasure, "You're sure you want to make such a big commitment – to the business?"

She had smiled back at him, smitten, "No question."

Strike looked back at Wardle, "So, 'sniffing sheets' has started to appeal to you has it?"

Wardle laughed under his breath at the repetition of his dig at Strike, "Remembered that, did you?"

After feeling the pressure on his right foot from Robin's boot Strike relented a bit, "Well I just want to be clear about what most of the work would be – it's not all supermodels, serial killers and subterfuge," explained Strike, "Give Robin and I a bit of time to look into it and we'll be in touch."

Wardle looked from Strike to Robin, perplexed.

"It's Ellacott and Strike now - Robin's a full partner," Strike explained.

"Oh yeah?" Wardle smirked salaciously, "Robin, I'd just like you to know that I told him he was missing a trick if he let you get away."

Robin began to reconsider whether she could put up with Wardle permanently as he laughed at his own comment.

"You weren't the only one." Strike groaned.

In the taxi, on their way to Holloway, Strike's phone beeped, "That's Vanessa Ekwensi's mobile number." He told Robin.

"I liked her – she was very kind after I was stabbed. I'll call her later if you forward me her number, I'd like to thank her."

Strike forwarded the number to her and hid his smile as he concentrated on tapping the phone.

But too late, as Robin had still caught it, "Shut up!" she snapped, rolling her eyes, before getting her phone out and opening the notes.

He raised his eyebrows, "I didn't realise I had said anything?"

Slightly irritated with Cormoran's teasing, she scanned the notes pages on Olivia Grant, "What about Wardle then?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Bloody hell, that was out of the blue - I always thought he was a career policeman - he purposely pursued Terence Malley over any of the other suspects I was pushing and that created two more victims, almost three." He said repressively.

"That being said, if he's working for us, perhaps he'll be less competitive and he'll have us to stop him from settling with a biased theory – that's all that gets in the way of his reasoning. Also, as you've always pointed out, someone whose ex-police would always be useful," Robin explored the possibility fairly.

"True – how do you feel about questioning Olivia Grant?"

"I'll do it." Robin tried to sound offhand as she concentrated on her notes but was secretly thrilled that Cormoran had suggested it. He had previously worked so hard to prevent her from getting too entangled in their last big case as it became more dangerous for her. Since, their partnership was repaired he was constantly throwing new opportunities her way, taking the more boring cases himself. Now he was really demonstrating his trust in her abilities: to hand this over to her without Robin having to face a possible argument or having to fight to persuade him. She gave him a bright smile, before returning to the notes to make sure she hadn't missed anything important. The problem was there was nothing to miss as far as she could tell. No DNA, fingerprints or CCTV of the child had been found. The stark truth was that Olivia Grant may have killed her child and she voiced this to Strike.

"It's certainly looking that way. Perhaps the lawyer has some new information, otherwise this is going to be a waste of an afternoon."

The taxi pulled up outside the prison which looked like any brick institutional building. Strike had always thought it could have been a secondary school or hospital before the labour government had invested money into PPI schemes that turned these buildings into a steel and glass advertising statements for one architecture company or another. A tall man in a suit Strike's age, stood waiting by the entrance, Strike hoped this wasn't Olivia's Grant lawyer, "Fuck!" Strike said under his breathe.

As they approached he appeared to recognise Strike and he smiled.

"What is it?"

But they were only steps away from the man and Cormoran only had time to shake his head.

Tabor-Jones was the kind of man who gripped other's hands in a vice just to assert himself as the alpha male, "Yes, yes, Cormoran Strike, I think we were at Oxford together. I was a friend of Charlotte Cambell-Ross, Ritchie, Richard Tabor-Jones? Jago Ross is one of my closest friends." His smile was snake-like. "But you didn't finish did you?"

Robin had looked up at Strike at the mention of Charlotte's name, he had nodded.

"Urm…can't seem to place you." Strike's brain was encyclopaedic. Ritchie had been part of the set that Charlotte had gone back to socialising with once Ross appeared to be over losing her to Strike. She had managed to drag Strike along to the occasional dinner, wedding or party at which he had seen Ross, Tabor-Jones and the rest of their friends behave with the same self-assuredness raucous behaviour however outrageous and unwanted.

Tabor-Jones' grimace was vaguely disguised, "Yes, well, I'll be sure to let Charlotte know we are working together, with?" he turned towards Robin.

She introduced herself to Tabor-Jones sticking her hand out. Strike could tell Robin was trying to hide a surprised wince after taking his hand. Already it was clear this bloke was still an arrogant dick.

"Very nice to meet you," he said, visibly assessing Robin. This happened more often now she wasn't wearing her engagement ring and Cormoran noticed she never revelled in it, instead it clearly annoyed Robin but she was never rude and usually responded with an uncomfortable stiffness that communicated her disinterest.

However, she recovered quickly to demand, "Shall we go in," effectively cutting him off. She stalked away towards the entrance.

Instead of being shown to the cheerfully decorated visitor's room where Strike had visited Leonora Quine, they were taken to a private room and waited for Olivia Grant to be brought to them.

"What we don't understand at the moment was how the police managed to charge her. There was very little evidence at the home and no sign of struggle. If they couldn't find anything that implicated anyone else, what did they have to possibly charge her, apart from the neighbour's statement and a lack of an alibi for the time prior to going to the neighbour's house." Strike asked.

"The police believe that Arno had to have been taken by someone that knew him, the Grant's car had been seen leaving the house and Olivia says they went to woods. A search of the woods was carried out. The dogs picked up the scent but it didn't lead to a body or any further evidence. Traces of blood were found in the car. So, yes the police are hoping to be successful on circumstantial evidence."

"The other suspects didn't lead anywhere?" Strike asked. These were questions they knew the answers to already from Culpepper's file but the lawyer might have had privileged information the journalist was unable to buy or earn with favours.

"After canvassing the area, there was a lot of information from the public. They investigated the whereabouts of local sex offenders; people linked to the child – a teacher, the babysitter and Jonathan Grant. All had alibis. Olivia has been unfortunate and her mental health hasn't helped the situation."

"What do you mean?" Robin asked defensively.

"Well, her comments to the neighbour in the first place but also in her statement to the police she was very confused and kept muddling the facts of the day in question. Another prisoner has now given a statement saying that Olivia told her she had killed Arno. I suspect that to be because Olivier has received so much publicity, the prisoner is hoping it will help secure them with a parole deal."

The two investigators shared a look of concern as the door was suddenly opened and a warden held the door open for Olivia to come through. Another warden followed her. The women looked like a little bird. Thin and grey in the face. Her hair once expensively styled hung lifelessly. The blank stare of her eyes showed no acknowledgement of the people in the room. Only her body language, which became more inhibited as she sat in the chair, revealed she was aware of their presence.

For the first time Tabor-Jones lost his pompous tone, which Robin hadn't thought was possible, 'Olivia, this is Cormoran Strike and Robin Ellacott, they are going to be helping us to find out what happened to Arno."

Strike noticed when Arno's name was spoken Olivia's eyes lost focus as if she had gone somewhere else for a moment.

"Hello Olivia," Robin's voice was gentle.

Olivia's eyes flickered over the area where Robin sat, not able to make eye contact.

"Olivia, could you tell me about what you remember about the last time that you saw Arno?"

Olivia's face crumpled, "I don't want to think about it again. I'm tired. I've told everyone, again and again. I'm tired."

"I understand Olivia but if you could try for me, just for a little while."

Olivia finally focused her eyes on Robin and nodded.

"When was the last time you saw Arlo?"

"We were in the garden. Arlo was playing in his treehouse. Climbing up and sliding down. But Mia was crying. She wouldn't stop. So, I left them in the garden and went to see Ellen."

'How did you get to Ellen's?"

"Through the garden gate, as soon as I left the garden I heard Mia stop crying. She hates me. Ellen was sitting in her garden and I was upset. She took me inside. She took me inside because I can't do it. I can't be a mother. I wanted her to tell Jonathan. I can't do it. Mia hates me. Arlo used to love me but then he realised I was a bad mother so he went away."

"I'm sure that's not true Olivia, I think they love you very much and miss you a lot. What happened then Olivia, did you drink your tea?"

"No, I couldn't drink it. I couldn't because I heard Mia starting to cry and scream again. Ellen wasn't there and I didn't know what to do. I couldn't go back in the garden. I couldn't move."

Strike looked at Robin and then at Tabor-Jones who shrugged his shoulders. This was not in any of the files.

"So how did you get to the garden Mia? Did Ellen come back?"

'Yes - she came in and then went back into the garden. She bought Mia to me and asked me where Arlo was. I told her he was in the garden but she said he wasn't." Olivia was staring at a space on the table as she recounted the events.

"Where had Ellen been, did she come in from the garden or the house?"

Confusion troubled Olivia's face, "I…I'm not sure. I just couldn't move. Ellen went outside again and I could hear her calling his name. Eventually, I was able to follow her back to my garden to see if she had found him. I thought he was just playing hide and seek. We couldn't find him in the house or the garden. He wasn't in his treehouse. He wasn't in the wood at the back of the house." Her hand fluttered to her mouth and tears ran soundlessly from her face, "In the end, Ellen rang the police."

"Thank you, not much longer now. Can you tell me what you did that morning?"

"Why? Why do you want to know so much?" Olivia became accusatory, Do you have Arlo?" Olivia's voice began to rise.

"No, we want to help you find Arlo, remember Olivia. We want to help you." Robin leant forward on her folded arms.

Olivia was mollified, "Yes, you want to help find Arlo for us."

"When did you go to the woods, Olivia?"

"We went to the woods that's right, we went to the woods in the morning. Mia is quiet in her pushchair. Arlo kept running away. I got angry with him and shouted at him to come back. But he got frightened and fell over. His leg was bleeding and I didn't have anything to clean it with, so we came back home. "

"How long were you there for?"

"Not long, I can't remember exactly but not long."

"And do you remember anyone else there, Olivia?

"There was a man with a dog. "

"Did he see you?"

Olivia nodded "Yes because he said Good Morning."

"Did you know this man?" In Yorkshire saying hello to absolute strangers was acceptable but she knew in London this was rare, even in the suburbs where Olivia and Jonathan lived.

"No, I had never seen him before."

Finally, Olivia's face cracked and dissolved into sobs. Robin went to get up and comfort her but the guard moved and put a warning hand out

As they walked from the building, Strike said to Tabor-Jones," So, the fact the neighbour seems to not have been with Olivia. Has that ever been established before."

"It's the first time I've heard Olivia say it. As ill as she is though I'm not sure that she has an accurate concept of time or order of events." Tabor-Jones looked at his watch, he was back to his self-important self. Clearly, he felt this was a waste of time.

"Okay, well maybe that's where we'll start if we decide to take on the case?" Strike looked at Robin.

She nodded, "We'll be in touch Mr Tabor-Jones"

He began to walk away, towards the car park, "By the way, Mr Strike as you're an old friend of Charlotte's, I thought you would like to know. They've just announced they are pregnant with their first child." He didn't turn around in the direction he was walking in fast enough to hide the cruel smile on his face.

Robin was shocked. Not that Charlotte was pregnant but that a man like Tabor-Jones took such pleasure in pathetically exulting in someone else's pain. Anyone would have thought he was her husband, exacting his vengeance on her ex. Maybe one win for one was a win for them all. "Dick," Robin said loudly enough for only Cormoran to hear.

"Yes, he is." Strike muttered, "So what do you think – shall we follow up on the neighbour?"

'Why are you doing that?" Robin was now as angry with Cormoran, "Don't pull the defences up on me. You've just been told the women you were in love with for 15 years is having a baby with the man she married to try to make you jealous."

"Yes, but Robin, she's not the woman whose wedding I stopped."

She crossed her arms and folded them across her chest, implacable. "It would have hurt me if I'd turned up at that coffee shop and Matthew had an ultrasound photo to show me."

He had tried to avoid this as he suspected this wasn't the best place to tell her, "I never wanted children Robin. So why would I care about the fact she's going to have another man's child, years after breaking up." It came out more aggressively then he meant it to.

Her face blanched and looked pained, then she brushed past him pacing quicker than he could keep up with onto Pentonville Road. As Robin punched their details into her cab app on her phone, he came to stand by her. "Look, that's not exactly what I meant. Realising she had been cheating on me while we were together was a different situation. Can't we talk about it at home, I haven't exactly processed it myself yet"

"Whatever you want to do Cormoran," although Robin sounded like she thought the exact opposite, "We've got dinner with Ilsa and Nick tonight."

Strike groaned but not because he didn't want to go, "Snap out of it Robin, come on." He put his arms around her pulling her into his coat. Her arms still folded against him.

"I'm not jealous, I just hate it when you don't tell me things – your feelings. I thought we were beyond that." Like not wanting to have children. Ever.

"Neither am I – the only thought in my head right now about Charlotte's being pregnant with Jago Ross' kid is 'the poor kid', actually whoever the father was."

Finally, she dropped her hands to his waist, "Really?"

"For Fuck sake, come here," He buried his hand in her hair and kissed her until their cab driver arrived and had to use the horn to get their attention.