I believe, and all the evidence supports that belief,
that Suresh Hossein murdered Raymond Cohen
and destroyed his body in order to conceal his crime.
Detective Superintendent Grace,
do you know anything about a shoe connected with this case?
A brown, crocodile-skin, slip-on loafer with a gold chain? Size ten?
- I do. - On March the 9th of last year,
did you take this shoe to a so-called 'medium'
by the name of Harold Frame,
a man best described as a dabbler in the dark arts?
Three years ago,
Mr Frame gave me sufficient information
to put a name to a murder suspect.
It led directly to his arrest and subsequent conviction.
- That is a fact. - Three years ago?
So it would be fair to say that you are a man of the occult?
A believer in the supernatural, Detective Superintendent?
When I entered the witness box,
the first thing I was asked to do
was to take the Holy Bible in my hand
and swear by Almighty God.
In a court that accepts
a witness taking an oath to a supernatural being,
it would be strange if I and everybody else in this room
did not believe in the supernatural.
_
A medium? After the last time? Why? What were you thinking?
We knew Hossein had Cohen murdered, but we didn't have a body.
We still don't. Your voodoo man came up empty.
- He came up with a pig farm. - Mm.
Come on. It's obvious what happened to Cohen.
That shoe had been through forensics.
Signed out and signed back in again.
They cannot lay
an exhibits contamination charge against me.
They don't need to! You let them discredit you!
Ghosts? Psychics?
That's not police business, it's show business
and you brought it into a court of law.
People make allowances for you, Roy.
I have made allowances for you more than once...
I suppose this is probably not the best time
to ask about a return to proper work.
- You have proper work. - Paperwork.
Just so's we're clear,
the Chief is thinking of removing you
from operational duty altogether.
You know what, if I'm that much of a liability,
why doesn't he just get rid of me now?
Because it's poor optics.
His words, not mine.
Promise by Illyus & Barrientos
Marky-Mark! How's Jersey? All good?
Erm, it's a bit of grit in life's lube, mate.
? You know I promised the Lord... ?
Sorry, mate. I'm caught at Jersey airport. Fogbound.
- Some best man you are. - I get back, I'll call Robbo
and I'll come and meet you at whatever boozer you've got to.
- All right? - Yeah.
Don't you worry, Mikey-boy.
We are gonna make this a night to remember.
- Come on, Michael. - Come on, Michael, let's go.
Control room.
This is Detective Superintendent Grace.
I'm stuck in traffic on Fircroft Road south of Crowborough.
- Can you give me any information? - Major accident, sir.
Road's going to be blocked for a while,
- so you'd be best using another route. - OK, thanks.
You might have to wait a while for removal yet, Phil.
Brigade's still cutting the last one out of the wreck.
Looks to be a stag do out on the lash.
Looks a bloody mess, Dad!
Don't cuss, Davey.
Cheers, mate, let me know when you're done.
Wait here. All right? Stay in the truck.
_
Francine? Roy. I'm so sorry.
There was a traffic accident. I, erm...
Too much? For a first...
whatever we're calling this. Sorry, I'm a bit out of practice.
Davey!
Davey-boy!
DAVEY!
What did I say about waiting in the truck?
Me time. That's very important to me.
Ayia Napa, 2009.
That was my awakening. My... epiphany.
Watching the sun come up on the beach, I said to myself,
"There's got to be more to life than Blockbusters, Hastings."
God. Listen to me going on about myself.
Coffee and liqueurs and you've hardly said a word.
No, it's, erm... It's been fascinating...
Flatterer. So, go on.
What about you?
How long have you been with the Police?
25 years, more or less.
I've got to say, and I hope you won't take this the wrong way,
you don't look like your profile.
No... It's an old photo.
A colleague signed me up for the site.
It was their idea of a joke.
So, how come you're back on the market? Divorced?
- No. - Really?
I'm on number three.
I find it hard to believe you've never been married.
Best to be honest.
Always. No. Erm, we're, separated.
Call Robbo.
I'm sorry, Mark,
it's not been possible to connect you at this time.
You have 14 unread messages and seven missed calls.
Mark? If you're there, pick up.
Please, call me as soon as you get this.
Oh, Christ. Mark, please, I'm going out of my mind.
If you get this, I'm at Lewes Victoria A&E.
Please, get here.
Thank God! Is he with you? Is Michael with you, Mark?
No. Why? I just got in from Jersey.
- Ash? What's going on? - There's been an accident...
I don't know what happened, but...
...Pete, Robbo and Luke are dead.
- They're operating on Josh now. - So, where's Michael?
That's what I'm saying. No-one knows where he is!
Detective Sergeant Branson.
Can I get your autograph?
It's not for me, it's for the kids.
Bush telegraph said you'd been in to see Alison Vosper.
So how did that go?
- How's Ari? - She sends her love.
- Sammy? Remi? - A year older, a foot cheekier.
Yeah, they both miss their Uncle Roy.
You didn't have to disappear on me, man.
You know what this place is like. Guilt by association.
Maybe, but... Hey, look, I'm in big boy's pants, now.
I mean, I get to choose my own friends and everything.
You don't need to look out for me.
Gosh.
Talk about out of sight, out of mind.
Surely, half the perps for these will be dead and gone by now.
Yeah, but it's not just about the collar, though, is it?
They all mean something to somebody. Fathers. Sons. Mothers. Daughters.
Wives.
- The not knowing. - Hm. Always.
So what's this free brunch going to cost me, then?
Well, bloke went out on his stag last night,
never came home.
That's not even 24 hours.
He's probably just coming to,
bollock-naked on the Fort William sleeper.
- What are his mates saying? - Not much.
Three of them are room temperature down the mortuary
and the fourth one's on life support.
It's unlikely he's going to make it. It's an RTA.
Their transit got totalled on Fircroft Road.
- And the groom wasn't with them? - Uh-huh. Look...
I know it's early days, but... I dunno,
something about it feels off.
Go on, then. Who is he?
Michael Neward. He's a local boy made good.
Property developer. Real serious player.
Pelicano South Properties.
Pelicano South.
Warehouse development on Shoreham Harbour.
About seven years ago.
32 flats. All sold off-plan.
He's worth a few bob, then?
Look, I know it's a live inquiry
and, well, these days, you're more at home with the dead,
but, erm...
I could do with a bit of the old Grace magic.
That's if you can spare it.
Well, it would get you out your office for a couple of hours.
Come on. Hm? For old times'?
So, think you know most of the team. You remember Bella and Nick.
Roy. How you doing?
- I'm good thanks. - We miss you.
Aww. I bet you say that to all the Detective Superintendents.
And this is the new girl in school, DC Boutwood.
- Emma Jane. EJ. - Sir.
Roy. So where are we?
Anything off mobiles as to their plans last night?
So driver's phone's a write-off.
I've passed it to John Rye in Digital Forensics,
but he's not hopeful. Rest of the victims,
it's just arrangements for the rendezvous.
- Which was where? - The Hispaniola. On the Front.
Six o'clock kick-off.
Now, I spoke to the bar-staff, they were there about 45 minutes,
- before pushing off. - Pub crawl, then.
What was the last signal we have for him?
A mast on the A22.
All five pins remained together from 6:30 till shortly before 9:00.
There's a pub at each of these clusters.
Then at 8:45, Neward's phone winks out.
Nothing since.
- Switched it off? - Or in an area of no signal.
So we're talking a radius of five miles,
probably 15 miles north of Brighton.
- Resources? - You're looking at it.
I presume you've got a search warrant for Neward's place?
It's all right for some.
You don't think he's had a touch of the seconds?
Would you?
Well, if he's not done a runner, where is he?
I'll pass this on to Digital Forensics.
See if we can get a quick turnaround.
Police.
Detective Superintendent Grace, DS Branson, Brighton CID.
- Mr...? - Warden. Mark.
What're you doing here, Mr Warden?
I had a meeting in Jersey. A development we're looking at.
- Flight back was delayed. - How well do you know Michael?
Best mates. We went to school together.
What was the itinerary for last night?
Just a few drinks.
No plans to get him plastered and stick him on a ferry to Dieppe?
No.
Any chance he could have second thoughts about the wedding,
anywhere you can think of he might be holed up?
No. Why would he?
- Another woman? - No. No, not Michael.
No. He worships the water that Ashley walks on.
Erm, his fiancee.
- How is she? - Terrible.
I've just left her at the hospital with Zoe.
Josh's missus. One of the other guys on the stag.
And Gill, Mike's mum.
She asked me to drop by here. Just in case Michael had come home.
All well with the business, Mr Warden, no problems there?
No. No, things are going great.
We've got developments all over. Peacehaven. Newhaven. Hove.
I just... keep thinking...
I could've been in that van.
I should've been.
Michael wouldn't do this to us, not on purpose. Not to me. Or Ash.
Sure, but sometimes after an accident,
people can become disoriented. Confused.
Alcohol can make people do some very irrational things.
Do you think that Michael...?
He's had long enough to get sober by now.
His dad was a drinker. He died when Michael was 11.
Took his own life.
I think that's why Michael connected with Ash the way he did.
She lost her parents, too.
We'd like to speak with Miss Haynes, is she still here?
She's in with Zoe. Josh's wife.
Bit of moral support.
I just want to know what's happened to him.
Oh, God...
What am I going to do? My Joshie's dead.
You don't live together, you and Michael.
No.
We stay at each other's,
but we want the wedding to mean something.
- It probably sounds old fashioned. - No, not at all.
Boys have got a new development Seaford Bay way,
Beachland Heights,
we're gonna have one of those when planning goes through.
- How did you meet? - Erm, job interview at the company.
Receptionist. Eight months ago.
- Where were you before that? - Toronto.
A real estate company. Part of the Hunter Falls Group.
Have we met somewhere? I swear you look familiar.
No.
How did Mark Warden feel about you and Michael becoming an item?
It didn't affect their business relationship, or...?
No. Why would it? They're friends.
Look, I'm sorry, but something's happened.
I know it has. People don't just disappear without a word.
It doesn't make sense.
I just want him back.
Please, find him.
I can't lose him. I can't. He's everything.
You don't know...
I don't know what, Miss Haynes?
When I met Michael, I thought I was done with all the...
Things haven't always been good. You know? For me.
I was, erm... in care.
My mum and dad, there was an accident,
when I was three. A motorbike.
Yes, Mrs Neward told me. I'm very sorry.
Please, find him.
Oh, God.
It's OK.
Hello. Hello. This is Davey.
Requesting an air strike on the enemy's position.
Get to the chopper now!
Hello? Hello? Can you hear me! This is Michael Neward.
I... Hello? Hello?
All right, boy? Who was that you were talking to?
- Online. - Oh, right.
Pizza's in the oven. Don't forget to wash your hands.
_
EJ and me covered off most of the pubs in the search area.
Couple of sightings of the stag party.
Seems they were on a lager frenzy.
According to witnesses, Michael, in particular, was hanging.
That would agree with toxicology on the three who died at the scene.
- Well in excess of the legal limit. - So all was well between them?
No rows? Nothing that could cause Michael to go off on his own?
Bar staff said they were all in good spirits.
So Digital Forensics are still collating,
but according to Michael Neward's laptop,
Pelicano South Properties have another account,
it's in the Cayman Islands.
Maybe that's what Warden was doing at Michael Neward's?
Picking up the laptop.
If they've some dodgy offshore tax scam going on...
It's hard to say if that's what it is at first glance.
But I'll know more once I give it a proper go-through.
OK, database check, all interested parties.
The partner, the fiancee, his mother, the guys in the van.
Anything out of the ordinary. OK. Thank you very much, everyone.
Excellent work.
Sorry. Old habits. This is not my case.
I'm here on an advisory level.
No. You're here to do what you do best.
- Shanti shanti? - Maybe tomorrow.
I've got court again first thing,
but I'll give you a shout when I'm clear,
hook up at Bolney.
All that in the papers. About the medium. Is that true?
He said it under oath. So it's got to be. Right?
I thought I saw her in the Lanes.
Older, obviously...
...but the same hair.
I put my hand on her shoulder,
she turned round.
An eyebrow piercing.
Our Jen would never've done that.
Poor girl must've thought I was mad.
When someone dies, there's a process that leads,
however painfully, to some kind of closure.
But when someone we love just suddenly disappears
without warning, or reason, or explanation,
there is no end-point. There's no...
No destination. No terminus.
There's no right or wrong way to react.
We all have to walk our own road,
but we just don't have to do it alone.
So?
Roy?
There's a ghost in my house.
Sandy's back. In dreams.
- Stress response? - Not that I'm aware of.
Well, that's the point.
Background level anxiety, it's... It's cumulative.
If we don't deal with it with our waking mind,
it finds a way to manifest. Stress looks for weak spots.
How's work?
Yeah. Probably. There's a big trial.
You know, I thought I'd...
When I stopped thinking I'd seen her in the street,
I thought I'd...
...come to terms. Made peace with it.
It doesn't work like that.
No.
Do you want to tell me about it?
The dream? Erm... Yeah.
Erm...
It's always that morning.
It's not even a dream, really, I suppose.
It's more like a memory.
I'm watching the two of us together.
And the part of me that's watching
knows that when she walks out of the door,
it'll be for the last time. So I'm trying to warn myself,
"Don't let her go." But the me in the dream can't hear.
- Funny. - What is?
Well, it's just occurred to me, the ghost in the dream,
it's not Sandy, is it? It's me.
You get any further with the Cayman Island account?
Yeah, last couple of years,
Pelicano South Properties have salted away
north of £5.25 million.
If someone wanted to disappear and make a new life,
that's not a bad start.
- Joint signatories on the account? - Him and Mark Benedict Warden.
So if Michael wanted to empty the pot and go solo,
he'd have been a bit hard pressed, wouldn't he?
Unless they're in on it together.
Of course, if one partner dies before the other,
then only one signature's required.
So Mark Warden would need proof of decease.
And he's not gonna get that from a missing person, is he?
Just remind me, who's the owner, again?
Is it something he'd usually do? Take the van without asking you?
No. Erm, it was out of character. Robert's a good lad.
Was. My sister's in pieces.
Did Robert say anything about his plans for that evening?
I think it was some sort of stag for one of his mates.
But I couldn't say who.
Drink, I suppose it'll be, won't it?
God, you'd think he'd seen enough of what that can do working here.
- What's the webbing for, Mr Stourton? - The tape? Interments.
Though there's a lot less of that than there used to be.
These days, people tend to favour cremations. For cost.
- You keep a lot of coffins on site? - Yeah.
When was the last time you did a stock take?
Come on, Michael, let's go.
- What pub's this, then? - It's the Gravedigger's Arms.
Whoa, whoa, whoa... No, no, no...
Come on! Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!
Whoa, whoa, whoa... Who-oa!
Whoa, whoa... No!
This is ridiculous. Come on, get away, get away!
No! Come on! This is ridiculous!
No, no, no, no! No! That's too far!
Guys?
Come on, listen to me. I'm claustrophobic.
Oi, Mikey, have a go on this, mate.
Lads?
Guys? Guys, what is this?
Boys, what are you doing?
Robbo?
What? Lads!
What if the water rises?
Another couple of hours ain't going to kill him.
After what he did on your stag, he deserves it.
Come on, guys!
OK, surely that's it, guys. Come on! Let me out now, come on!
Hello?
OK. Yeah. Great. You've had your fun.
Come on, you can let me out now.
Guys?
Hey, Mikey, this is what you get
for sticking me on a train to Edinburgh, mate.
Yeah. Great. You got me back. Let me out now.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, sure, mate
Shouldn't be more than a couple of hours.
- A couple of hours? Lads, come on. - Give it here!
That's ridiculous.
Guys? Robbo, hello?
Hello? No. No. Guys, come on!
Guys, you gotta let me out of here, please.
Come on!
This is Michael Neward. Can anybody hear me?
This is Michael Neward.
Please, can anybody hear me?
Hello. Hello. This is Davey.
Requesting an air strike on the enemy's position.
- Hello? Can you hear me? - Get to the chopper now.
This is Michael Neward. Hello? Hello?
This is Michael Neward, can you hear me?
Hello? Hello? Hello?
Hello?
A missing coffin? He's sure?
How long could someone survive like that?
Without air? Hours? A day, maybe?
We'd have to assume they left him air,
- otherwise we're looking for a body. - This is quite some area to search.
I've got a group of volunteer searchers coming down.
Let's talk to his business partner again, Mark Warden.
I mean, a stag-night pub crawl is one thing,
but you don't decide to take a coffin on the spur of the moment.
Anything back from the database search on him?
Nothing. Clean as. There's no previous on any of them.
This is DS Branson's case.
I'm just helping out.
- Unofficially. - You've got your own work.
Cold cases. My clients are all long dead.
A day or two either way
isn't going to make any difference to them.
But it could mean life or death to Michael Neward.
Just make sure you keep a low profile.
Drop a bollock on this, the CC will have the pair.
Officially.
Hello?
Hello!
Hello, I'm in here!
Hello!
I'm in here.
No! No! No!
No! No! No! No!
It was just a boys' night out, that was all I knew.
And Mark Warden never let slip what they had planned for Michael?
No. Not to me.
- He didn't mention a coffin? - What?
Do you know Michael and Mark have an account in the Cayman Islands?
No. A coffin? Oh, Jesus...
Michael never talked to you about an offshore tax shelter?
Tax...? What, you're asking about money?
I thought this was about finding Michael.
It is.
I just don't want to tie up hundreds of police man-hours
only to find he's sunning himself in the Caymans,
courtesy of the British taxpayer.
Do you think I'd be going out of my mind if I knew that?
People have been known to lie, Miss Haynes.
Particularly when money's involved.
You have to tell us everything, Ashley, OK?
Even the stuff you could be afraid might get him into trouble.
- You know where to reach us. - Do you have a minute?
I'll, erm... I'll be in the car.
I know who you are now.
I thought I recognised you from somewhere at the hospital.
You were in the papers.
This murder trial. Hossein?
It said your wife went missing. Five years ago.
Six.
Look, I'm sorry.
How do you cope? How do you face that?
A day at a time. Look, I promise you,
I will do everything in my power to find Michael and bring him home.
Mike doesn't like me smoking. Always thinking of me. I'm sure.
You know, things go wrong when you're young
and part of you thinks you're not meant to be happy.
You don't deserve a normal life like everybody else.
It's like... you did something so bad...
...that that's it... forever.
Then I met Michael.
He just... got me.
What happened? Erm...
with your wife?
- This is not about me, Miss Haynes. - Ashley.
Please? I'd like to know. It would... help me to know.
It was my 40th birthday.
She went out to work and never came home.
No signs. No warning. No note. Nothing.
Just thin air.
The hours turned into days, weeks. A year became two.
And then one day you wake up
and you realise you've been holding your breath for six years.
Believe me, I tried everything.
These, erm, psychics the papers talked about.
Mediums, whatever they are, is that who you went to?
Couldn't you talk to one of them about Michael,
just put me in touch with someone?
Please, I'm desperate. I'd do anything to find him.
Robbo was going to book a stripper-gram. That's about it.
But you didn't talk about a coffin, no?
I think I'd have remembered that.
Look, Mark, if you're worried about
getting caught up in a prank that went wrong,
it's best to tell us now, OK,
while there's still a chance of finding Michael alive.
I don't know what else I can tell you.
I can't put it any other way.
You and Michael have an account in the Cayman Islands.
Guanera International Enterprises.
Yes.
It's all legal. It's no secret.
Well, Miss Haynes didn't know anything about it.
Equal shares? You and Michael.
No. He has the majority.
So Michael put up the money at the start of the business?
Two-thirds of it. Yeah. I put up the rest.
And there's no issue between you about that imbalance?
He's my best mate. He has been since we were kids.
And now you're both very wealthy.
Meaning?
Meaning money can come between brothers,
never mind friends.
Is that what you think?
I just find it hard to believe
that everybody was in on this coffin prank, bar you,
- his best man. - You can believe what you like.
But I'm telling you, that is exactly the kind of idiot stunt
that Robbo would pull off his own bat.
He has a sizeable life insurance, I suppose. Who would that go to?
His mum, presumably.
But you get the business, if he dies.
Pelicano South without Michael is worth nothing.
He's the real... business brains.
And you're the what?
What do you bring to the Pelicano South table?
I'm the people person.
Always have been.
That's what I bring to the table.
Well... an asset in property development, I'm sure.
Thank you, we won't take up any more of your time.
Oh, we dropped by to see you last night. Nobody home.
No. I, erm... I went for a spin. Clear my head.
- Where did you go? - Just around.
I was on autopilot.
Anyone vouch for you? You didn't call anyone, or...?
- No. My phone was here. On charge. - Thanks for your time.
Warden's definitely involved.
But none of that gets us a foot closer to Michael Neward.
His bracelet might.
- Where'd you get that? - Ashley Haynes.
And how's that gonna...? Oh, no. Christ... The pendulum man?
- Seriously? Harry Frame? - It's a resource.
Really? He didn't exactly come through when Sandy went...
When Sandy went missing?
It's all right, you can say the words.
And, no, you're right, he didn't,
but that's the only time he's come up short.
Vosper finds out you're seeing Pratweazle,
she will hang us both.
Wait in the car. If you're worried.
- All right, Roy? - Hello, Harry.
All so young to be called over.
Yeah, well, you gotta go sometime, right?
You're a sceptic, Sergeant Branson. Ah, it's good to be sceptical.
Too many frauds about.
"Is there a Mary in the audience?" Please! So...
- ...you have a missing person. - Michael Neward.
We believe he's somewhere north of Brighton. Crowborough Way.
Uckfield, maybe. Old Mill Forest.
Uckfield?
Crowborough?
Old Mill Forest?
No, I'm not being shown anything in this area, sorry.
Yeah, well, we're pretty sure that he's there.
That's not what the pendulum's telling me.
We need to look wider.
Lewes.
Brighton.
Blackrock.
Kemp Town.
Yes. Yeah, that's where you'll find him, Kemp Town.
I don't think that's right, Harry.
We were in Kemp Town earlier with his business partner,
are you sure you're not just picking up on that?
The pendulum never lies, Roy.
I don't get it, what do you see in him?
- Abigail Roth. - Abigail Roth?
What, the girl that you found in a crate at Gatwick, yeah,
that was bound for Holland? I remember that.
- Great bit of detective work. - Yeah, it was. Not mine, though.
You got to be kidding.
Listen, upstairs don't care for anything
- they can't put next to a tick box. - Wow.
So, where to now?
I thought I might head over to Old Mill Forest,
- see how the search is getting on. - There's no need.
I spoke to them earlier. There's nothing to report.
They're on it, Roy.
You haven't eaten all day. Come on.
Let's get something to eat.
- Where? - Best place in town.
Hello?
This is Davey.
Hello?
- Hello. - I'm bored. Do you wanna talk?
Davey. Davey, this is Michael.
I... I really need your help.
Davey?
Come on, you two. Night-nights. Come on, go, go, go.
Yeah, say goodnight to Uncle Roy.
Night, Uncle Roy.
- Goodnight. Goodnight. - See you in a minute.
- Teeth brushed. - Ari, thank you. That was delicious.
No, just plain home cooking.
So what's this I hear about a date? She nice?
- Hot yoga teacher. Bit racy for me. - Do you good. Bit of Downward Dog.
Take you out of yourself.
Sandy's not coming back.
- Look, if this was a case... - I know. I know.
You'd be telling them that they have to move on.
- Mm-hmmm. - And you'd be right.
- Mum! - Oh... sorry.
No, it's fine. Listen, I better be going anyway.
- Don't go without saying goodbye. - OK.
Yes. There was one survivor.
But dad told me he died in hospital.
Can I talk...? Can I talk to your dad, Davey?
He doesn't know about this radio.
He'd be very mad at me if he knew I'd taken it from the crash.
I think that he'd be so proud of you.
Please, Davey, I really need to talk to him.
I've got a headache. I really need to get to bed now.
See you. Over and out.
No. No. Davey?
Davey?
Gill? Have you heard something? Is there any news?
No.
I didn't wake you, did I?
I just keep thinking every time the phone rings
that it's going to be him, laughing,
explaining it's all been some stupid joke.
Look, I think you should cancel tomorrow.
If I cancel, it'd mean I'd given up on him. I can't do that.
Well, just have a think about it, please?
OK. Night, Gill.
We didn't crash the van. It happened.
Call it a wedding present.
Well, then, you'd better come here and kiss the bride!
We believe Michael Neward is the victim of a practical joke
that has gone tragically wrong.
We would ask anyone who may have information as to his whereabouts
to get in touch with us.
Due to marry this afternoon, Michael Neward,
a prominent local developer with Pelicano South...
Detective Superintendent Grace? Kevin Spinella, the Argus.
Any update on Michael Neward for us?
Do you think he's dead or alive?
Or are the spirits silent on that one?
Watch the birdie, eh?
The happiest day of your life.
I thought...
...perhaps he'd just turn up.
Did you see someone? About the bracelet?
There's no news as yet, I'm afraid.
CCTV from Warden's flat. Anything?
Not yet.
One frame every ten seconds.
Takes a car eight seconds to emerge from the car park
and clear the field of view.
Right, so we might miss him altogether.
Yep.
It's nearly two hours, love.
- He's not coming. - I know.
I know.
I keep thinking, what if he had a row with Robbo and the boys,
they split up before they went through with it?
- It's possible, isn't it? - Yeah. Of course.
He's alive, I know he is.
You're all right. Show's over.
Grace.
Reports coming in of a body in Ashdown Forest.
IC1. 20s.
It's not him. Clothes are wrong.
There is no ID on him. Whoever he was,
he took a savage beating to the face and to the head.
How long's he been here?
Matter of hours, according to the pathologist.
- How was church? - A wedding without a groom,
it was like a funeral without a body.
Mark Warden was there.
- You don't like him. - I don't like liars.
Just in from Lewes.
Misper alert for a young man, 28 years old.
Clothes we have here match those he was last seen wearing.
Why would anyone hurt him like that? He was harmless.
- When did you last see him? - Lunch. I had a wreck to tow.
He didn't want to come with me. Said he had important business.
Did he tell you what his important business was?
What you need to know about Davey is he wasn't quite right, y'know?
They call it neuro-diverse these days.
He was going on about some missing bloke.
Neward, is it? To be honest, I didn't take much notice.
He'd get it into his head that he was friends
with this or that one off the telly.
And he said he'd been talking to him on a walkie-talkie.
No walkie-talkie,
but we've got what look to be directions.
- Directions? - Yeah.
Felt tip's bled through from the page above.
Fircroft, that's the road. N Crowbar? Two miles?
A telephone number? What's that?
Some sort of grid, a cattle grid maybe?
Right, let's say Davey was somehow in contact with Michael Neward.
Given where the body was found,
N Crowbar, that's North Crowborough, right?
Nick just called.
CCTV from Mark Warden's flat.
This should only take a few minutes. I know you're busy.
No, no.
Oh, I, erm...
I found this on the stairs.
It wouldn't belong to you, by any chance?
Tennis elbow. Thank you.
So, what can I...?
CCTV cameras picked up a BMW X5 registered in your name
leaving the car park late on Thursday.
Yes, I went for a drive. I told you.
We've also got you later coming into Brighton
from the direction of Lewes.
So you went for a drive in Old Mill Forest, perhaps?
Yes, erm, we have outline planning permission for 20 houses
on a site down there.
I'm writing up a report on environmental factors.
Impact on the local wildlife, nocturnal animals.
Fircroft Road outside Crowborough, then over a double cattle grid.
Is that where you are?
Erm, possibly. I mean, it sounds right.
Well, both those directions
and a partial mobile number for Ashley Haynes
were discovered at the home of a young man
found murdered in Old Mill Forest.
Davey Marshbrook.
Seriously?
Mm.
Is it difficult to find, this land of yours?
- Not if you know the turn-off. - You could show us, though. Yes?
Oh, Jesus.
Maybe Michael was never inside
the coffin in the first place. Maybe it was someone else.
No. He was in there, all right.
I mean, you saw Mark Warden's reaction
when we opened up that grave, he was expecting to find a body.
- You want to sweat him? - When we've lined up our ducks.
I know we didn't find anything from the database search,
but can someone do a deep dive on Mark Warden.
- What am I looking for? - Anything out of the ordinary.
Credit rating, debts, liquidity issues, associates.
You're thinking money laundering?
I'm thinking anything that smells off
and can give us leverage.
Yeah, well, at least we know Mark Warden didn't kill Davey.
Given he was in church with you at the time.
Yeah, but whatever EJ digs up, it still doesn't answer the big one.
If Michael's not in the box, then where is he?
He could be out there right now. Watching us.
Maybe he knows about us?
That's all I can think, that he knows.
Jesus Christ, there's someone buzzing the flat.
What if it's him?
Get a grip. Go and see who it is.
- Hello? - Package for Mr Warren.
Just put it through the letterbox.
- I need a signature. - Oh, Jesus Christ.
Ash, I've got to go. I've got a delivery.
- EJ, anything back on Warden? - You said to flag anything odd.
Going through Mark's social media looking for friends and associates
- and she's not listed. - She who?
Ashley. She's what? Mid-to-late 20s?
About that. Why?
I can't find any online history for her before last year.
No Facebook. No Twitter. No Insta.
She's got no internet profile at all.
- Neither do I, to be fair. - You're not mid-20s.
Everyone my age has got a past online.
She's been in Canada.
You know it's called the World Wide Web, right?
I've gone back 25 years, then five years either side.
There's no record of an Ashley Haynes
being orphaned in a bike crash in the UK.
She could've been fostered. Adopted.
Any number of reasons why she might have changed her name.
I'm just flagging it up, sir.
Your lucky day, mate, eh?
I've been keeping an ear on you and your little pal, Davey.
Not such a lucky day for him.
Trapped in a coffin
and the only person knows you're alive is a clinical moron.
But you're safe now, eh?
I reckon that's worth something.
Well, actually, a lot.
So, I need your autograph, wee lad.
For starters.
Just give us a squiggle of your best joined-up.
And no funny business, mind.
Aye, that wasn't so hard, now, was it?
The next bit, you're not gonna like so much.
See I'm gonna need some of your bona-fides, Mikey.
Sorry about that.
Yeah? Hello? Who is this?
This is Simple Simon, Mark.
And you're going to do exactly what I say,
or your perfect little world is going to turn to shit.
You have exactly one hour to take the documents drawn up
by you and Mike, giving power of attorney to a lawyer in
the Cayman Islands called Julius Grobbe,
out of the safe.
Sign it, scan it, e-mail it to him.
Then, you call him
and have him transfer £5,253,000 from your bank account there
to the numbered account in Panama I've already sent to him.
I'll call you back at your flat in exactly one hour.
So I just got off the phone to the real estate company
that Ashley Haynes claims she worked for in Toronto.
They confirmed she did work for them,
they're gonna send over her records from HR. So...
I've got Ashley Haynes on the line. Trace already underway,
but Michael's just texted her.
Well, wherever he is, he's back in range.
Have you tried calling him back?
Yes. And I've text him.
The line just rings and then goes to voicemail.
- Sent just over an hour ago. - I was in the shower.
I called as soon as I saw it.
Michael Neward, this is Detective Sergeant Branson...
Can you tell anything from the message? Where he is, or...
Not a lot, I'm afraid. In one respect, it's good news.
Shows he's alive.
It's also bad news, because he is clearly in trouble.
Oh, God.
Well done, mate.
Is that it? Are we done now?
Go out onto your balcony and look down at the street.
Come round to your left and look down.
- I can't see you. - You should be able to see me.
Have you got me? I can see you.
The team found a couple of things in your story
- that didn't quite add up. - My story?
Well, we can't find any record for the parents of an Ashley Haynes
being killed in a bike accident.
Of course you can't.
Haynes is the name of my foster parents.
I took it when I was 12. I was born Ashley Davies.
That's it? That's what all this is about?
Not entirely.
One of my colleagues noticed that you have no internet presence.
No social media footprint.
We can't find any trace of you online. Anywhere.
Right. And so you leap to the conclusion I'm... what?
You want to know why you can't find me on the internet?
There was a man.
A client of the real estate company in Canada. He started...
You understand what a stalker is, right?
He hacked into my work email, into my private email,
my social media accounts...
- You spoke to the police, presumably. - They said they couldn't touch him.
He'd stayed just the right side of the law.
The police couldn't help me.
The company I worked for wouldn't help me.
In the end, all I could do was disappear.
So I quit work without notice, skipped out on my flat...
...and paid some gamer in a cyber cafe
$500 to remove every trace of me online.
Branson?
The family name? I can buy that. The stalker?
Possibly.
But the bracelet you gave me. It wasn't Michael's.
It belonged to Mark Warden.
Really? Are you sure?
It was in the drawer on Michael's side of the bed.
- I thought it was his. - Mark recognised it.
I gave it back to him.
What're you saying? You... think there's...
something going on between me and Mark? Is there?
He's... Mike's best friend. How can you even...?
Is this what happened to you when Sandy went missing?
Did the police think you'd done something?
I trusted you.
But if that's what you think, then you'd better take me in.
There's been a development.
Did he fall, or was he pushed?
Well, I can't see him jumping.
And with everything else that's going on,
a fall seems unlikely.
Well, in that case, who pushed him? Michael Neward? Maybe.
If I got out of a coffin that my best friend
had left me to die in, I might not be too happy about it.
Someone's been through the drawers in here.
Turned the place over.
What the...?
"If you have the cops check the fingerprint,
"they'll confirm it belongs to Michael.
"I don't suppose you really want to go to the cops.
"I know what you did,
"and unless you do exactly what I tell you, so will they."
It wasn't suicide.
I think we'll be lucky to find Michael Neward alive.
Ah, ya canny beggar.
There's gratitude for you.
Here's something for you to think about,
that five-million the two of you have
salted away in the Caymans there.
- You can have it. - Huh?
What's that, lassie? I didn't quite catch it.
- "I can..." what? - You can have it?
- I can have it? - Yeah.
All of it? Oh, mate. Really? I'm touched.
You see, there's only one problem.
I already have the money.
Which sort of means that... I don't need you any more.
Yeah.
This was in the scanner.
Some sort of legal instruction to transfer funds to a Panama account.
- Signed by Mark Warden. - Yeah.
He sent a scan of it to Julius Grobbe,
a lawyer in the Caymans.
- That was the last email. - When was this?
About 20 minutes before he went off his balcony. Bella.
Any news on a fix for Michael's mobile signal?
Still waiting on the provider, but, erm... What?
HR at the firm in Canada
sent across Ashley Haynes's employment records.
They've included a scan of her security pass.
Toronto Echo, three years ago.
Jackie Huron married a real-estate developer
called Joe Kerwin. Five months after the happy day...
_
I managed to track down the real Ashley Haynes.
Only, she's married and goes by Ashleigh McLaughlin now.
At the time, she was working for Hunter Falls Group,
she was flat-sharing with an English girl called...
- Jackie Huron. - Jacqueline, but, yeah.
She says while they were flat sharing,
someone burgled the place.
- Credit cards, ID, passports. - There's more.
Cheshire, five years ago,
Gail Griffin married a wealthy property developer,
name of Richard Wonnash.
Three months after the wedding, they're in Australia sky-diving...
Richard Wonnash's widow, Gail Griffin.
Police! Hello? Miss Haynes?
Check upstairs!
No.
We spooked her.
The questions we put to her last night,
she must've realised it would only be a matter of time.
I should've brought her in there and then.
- You didn't know. - It's my job to know.
What, that Mark Warden was going to take a dive off the top board?
Grace, we had other fish to fry.
Electronics receipt from a place on Tottenham Court Road.
Frequency scanner. Check out the date.
So her fiance disappears and the next afternoon she goes
and buys a scanner worth just over £1,000?
We saw her at the hospital the day after the crash.
She couldn't be there and in London at the same time.
And we were with her when Mark Warden went off the balcony.
She had help.
Activity on Michael Neward's phone last night,
signal came from somewhere in Newhaven.
One mast covers the whole town.
- What about her phone? - Dead.
I've put out an all-ports and passed her known aliases on to Interpol.
The late ferry from Newhaven docked in Dieppe at four this morning.
It's already disembarked.
Car's loaded. One last thing, then.
Leave it. After what I've put up with,
a broken neck's too easy. Let him die alone in the dark.
It's two seconds.
But since you decided to throw Mark off the high board,
we're on a schedule.
- He was a loose end. - You get Mike's finger back?
The pics you took of Mark out in the forest?
No. You didn't. Those are loose ends, Vic.
And now the cops are going to be looking for two people.
We've got the money, we've got the car.
So let's just go.
One thing I don't get, if they wanted Michael dead,
why not leave him in the ground to rot?
Why dig him up at all?
The money. It was always about the money.
If the original plan had been in play,
then Michael Neward would have died
in a fatal accident sometime after the wedding.
Ashley would've got his savings and his share of the business.
Yeah, but the stag night van wreck changed all that.
They needed a plan B. Of course. The Cayman Islands account.
Which is why they dug him up.
They needed both signatures to authorise the transfer.
So what about Mark Warden? Where did he fit in to this plan?
Useful idiot? Fall guy? Cheap thrill? I dunno.
Maybe all three.
She was using him.
Well, better inside the tent than out.
They didn't take the ferry.
An hour ago, a black Merc was rented in Hove
in the name of Jackie Huron,
paid for with a Canadian credit card.
The same card was used to book two tickets on the 1440 flight
out of Terminal 5 to the Caymans.
What happened, Roy?
She turned on the little girl lost and melted your poor, lonely heart?
- I'll find her. - No. You won't. I will.
Branson will. Not you. You're done.
_
- Ma'am... - This was never your case.
You were advising, right? Unofficially.
You've got your own work. I suggest you get back to it.
- And Michael Neward? - Is none of your concern.
Ashley Haynes and her accomplice will be picked up at the airport.
- The rest will follow. - What if they don't crack?
I thought this was about preservation of life.
What you thought, what you think,
does not matter any more. Keep the paper.
- I'm sorry, man. This is on me. - It's not your fault.
Look, I appreciate what you were trying to do...
...but we both know I've been on borrowed time for years.
If not today...
Why didn't they just fly out last night?
If they suspected we were onto them, why not hop on the first plane
and put as much blue sky between them and us as possible?
They've got the money.
They've got access to it from anywhere in the world.
That's what you went out on a limb for?
Yes, Ma'am...
And I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
- We should get underway. - When I've had a drink.
- What's the matter with you? - A lousy 5.2?
Half a year of our lives for that?
- We should've had the lot. - If you hadn't gambled away the pot,
we wouldn't've needed to be here in the first place.
We should've stuck to the plan.
You should've got him out of the box, married him,
then we'd have the savings, too.
So he survives being buried alive and drowns on his honeymoon?
No-one would've asked questions about that at all.
We could've pushed it back.
How long, hm? Months? Years?
I wasn't made to play the little wife, Vic.
A girl can only have so many headaches.
Think I like it?
- Sat on the bench while you're at it... - It's what we do.
It doesn't mean anything. You always pay them back in the end.
But not this time.
Why wouldn't you let me finish him off?
- What's so special about Mikey boy? - Nothing.
Hey.
There's no need to be jealous. It's you and me, babe. You and me.
Always has been. He's gone. Forget him. So just cast off.
If you're going to give me orders all the way to Barca,
you'd better be getting your lengths in,
it's a long swim home.
- That cop's here. - What cop?
The one you've been playing.
Better.
You or me, babe.
Always has been.
Thank God!
Thank God. Please, he was going to kill me.
Stay here.
Is he dead?
Who is he?
The man I told you about.
The one who was, erm, stalking me in Canada.
- Where's Michael? - I don't know.
He said if I did what he told me, Michael would be released. Stop.
All right? Just stop.
It's finished.
No more lies. We know.
Jackie Huron. Gail Griffin. Was any of it true?
Some.
- Which part? - The parts you liked.
Mark's bracelet, that was a nice touch.
You couldn't risk giving me anything that belonged to Michael
just in case Harry Frame came through.
Five million.
It's just sitting there, we could start over.
How'd that work out for your last partner?
Vic?
You've no idea.
He was going to kill you. And me, sooner or later.
- Steroids. - So, what? I should thank you?
You should. I'm offering you a new start, Roy.
A new life.
What would you be walking away from? Hm?
Your colleagues' contempt? A wife that left you?
Come on...
Where is he?
- Why'd she leave you? - What?
You want Michael, you tell me why she left you.
Did she have someone else?
No. No. Not from what I could find.
- But you're still looking for her. - I guess I always will be.
- You think she's still alive. - I don't know. I hope so.
Wherever she is, I hope she's happy.
Go on, that's the deal.
Erm...
OK.
Sandy left me because I wasn't enough.
I let her down somehow. I wasn't there enough.
I didn't... love her enough.
I just wasn't enough.
Now, where is Michael?
Gotcha.
Roy? Look, this is not a good time, mate.
There's no sign of Ashley, or her partner.
I've just handed her over to uniform at Shoreham.
- They're bringing her in to Brighton. - What?
Her partner's lying dead on a yacht in the marina, The Conformite.
SOCOs on the way, uniform is preserving the scene,
but you'd better get some bodies over there.
Jesus. Where are you now?
Heading out to Newhaven. The satnav in the rental
says they were heading to Shoreham from some unnamed road
up by the Fort. I've got a set of keys off her partner's body.
Number 81. I'm taking a look.
- Vosper is not gonna like it. - Well, that's too bad.
Finding Michael Neward alive is the only thing that matters now.
Michael?
Michael? Michael?
This doesn't change anything.
It does for him.
Beachland Heights.
I suppose it sounds more des-res than Newhaven.
Christ. What he's been through.
God knows how he survived.
Ashley gave him hope.
That's what he said. "I had to stay alive.
"For her."
*CREDITS*