Original subtitles

(theme music playing)

man on TV: This morning police issued CCTV footage

of Ethan and Rosie Wellings walking away

from the lay-by where their mother Leanne disappeared.

It's thought she stopped to buy flowers from a mobile wagon,

operated by a seller witnesses describe

as Bosnian and in his mid-30s.

Officers have been out in force again from first light,

searching for Leanne and five-year-old Rosie.

(women chatter)

Shut up. Will you shut up?

man on TV: Detectives are focusing their investigation

on local individuals whose names appear

on the sex offenders register.

Meanwhile, the neighborhood heroine

who rescued little Ethan has spoken for the first time.

I just went out to the bins.

Who the bloody hell does she think she is?

Sarah: Then I opened it.

Jumping on the bloody bandwagon.

...a dog, just bounding out.

And then I looked inside

and there he was, just curled up in the corner.

woman on TV: But the police had been up here,

doing house to house, hadn't they?

The place was swarming with police all morning,

who managed not to find him.

Gee, thanks, Sarah.

woman on TV: How do you feel about the fact

that you are now being described as a heroine, Sarah?

Well, I only did what anyone would do.

I just really hope they find his mom

and his sister soon.

It's everyone's worst nightmare.

man on TV: Police have appealed for the flower seller

to come forward, and they've given out

a telephone number for members of the public...

(mutes TV)

(sighs)

Tops: Can you believe what she said about us?

Emma: She did all right, considering.

You had to put someone up for interview.

Gotta feed the beast.

Never had it like this before though,

a view where the family won't do publicity.

(telephone rings)

Not a missing persons.

Emma Opie, corporate communications.

Hello, Sarah.

Yeah, she's right here.

Hi, there. Yes, it was fine, thank you.

No offense taken. They'll always home in on any criticism.

No, I don't think it would be at all appropriate

to give out their address.

I don't want to intrude. It's just that little boy,

I want him to know I'm thinking of him,

send a card or something.

(car alarm chirps)

No, I see. Confidential, of course.

Well, definitely, you know where I am.

If I can be of any use, don't hesitate to call.

So she wants to be your new best friend now.

She just wants her 15 minutes.

Bosnian cowboys. No offense, darling,

but how's he gonna show up with you here?

Do you want to tell my boss that?

Um, well, I take it he didn't show up.

Look, sarge, he's got no insurance.

He's got no MOT.

He's selling flowers off an unlicensed pitch.

(imitating woman) Bosnian cowboys.

No offense, love.

Oh, who's the lucky boy?

(laughing)

Very bloody funny.

Plus he's probably an illegal immigrant.

It's a piece of cake, compared to my job

this morning. Here.

Foster: Are you hungry?

Want a wee?

Sure?

Okay.

So, tell me some more about the man, Ethan.

Do you remember how you were telling me yesterday?

Our dog bit him.

He banged the door shut.

Now, the man was in a white van

with writing on the side, wasn't he?

You're wasting your time, Ames.

Was it big writing?

It was dirty.

The van was dirty?

Rosie got into the dirty van.

(rock music playing)

Any news?

Nothing 'til this afternoon. Sorry.

Oh, the long faces! Come on, give us something.

Matt: I know what you want.

You want me to sit in front of the cameras

and cry for 'em,

'cause that's what the husband does.

He sits there and cries

and begs his wife to come home,

'cause "it's all right, we can work it out."

And all the time everyone's saying,

"It's him. Look, it's him."

Nine times out of 10, it's the husband did it.

I appreciate you don't want to say

anything that might make it difficult

for Leanne to come back.

But you keep saying you wish there was

something you could do to help.

Something useful.

Not talking to the press.

Yes, sir. No, sir. Three bags full, sir.

(clamoring)

Can I ask what your business is here, miss?

I'm a family friend.

woman: Sarah, Sarah!

man: Come over here! Come on, Sarah!

What exactly are you doing here?

Well, when we got to the hospital,

they had to pry Ethan off me,

didn't they, Jim?

I can't just walk away from him.

Is it just me or does the whole human race

get in her way?

Flowers? Bit funereal.

Matt: And then, what if we take Rosie

to the big swings in the park,

see how high she can go?

Ethan.

And then what if we take her for a pizza,

soon as she gets home, eh?

Why did you tell her off?

Who, Rosie?

Mommy.

'Cause when we was leaving the dogs' home,

she was on the phone.

She looked so sad.

She said she was talking to you.

(dog barks)

Hey, Gem!

(laughing) Oh!

Oh! Oh, you're heavy.

Oh, what a big boy.

That snotty press officer, she wouldn't give me

your address, so I looked you up in the phone book.

I just wanted to see he was all right.

I'm Sarah Wheeler.

Oh, you look different on the telly.

I don't know why they asked me.

Must have been desperate. You did good.

I wish I could have found them all for you.

Yeah.

Say thank you to Sarah, Ethan.

Thank you, Sarah.

Thank you from me too.

Do you want to sit on my swing? Yeah.

You never let me sit on it.

Sandwiches now.

Farnes: I'll scrabble some lunch together.

There's no need.

Well, even if they're not going to eat it,

I could just put it in front of them.

Looks like you've become surplus

to requirements, Simone.

Huh, smiley look.

I'm working a 16-hour day on a Saturday,

he's bloody smiling.

Oh, no getting shot of you, is there?

You bloody journalists.

I've got photographs, of course I have.

Loads of them.

There's ballet classes, pony clubs.

Can I see them?

No, no, they're all kept safely at home now.

Home? Where's that?

I mean, I was not going to bring them here, was I?

Some silly old pea-brained tart

dropping lumpy custard all over them.

You'll be wanting them now, though, your photos.

If you've got a spare key, I could get them for you.

(thuds) Oh, shit!

My bloody dictaphone.

Thought you cub reporters

were supposed to be doing shorthand.

Yeah, I can write it down in shorthand,

but I can never read the sodding stuff back.

My daughter got prizes for shorthand.

I used to say to her, "Barbara," I used to say,

"You are a mother.

Why are you working all these hours?"

I mean, it wasn't as though

she had some brilliant career, you know?

Who looked after Leanne?

She came to me after school.

It was me who put up with her teenage tantrums

and her boyfriends and...

the meaning of life.

Do you have any smokes?

She...

she used to scream blue murder, you know,

Leanne, when I was smoking.

She made me give it up once and all.

Why did you start again?

Well, I'm not going to die young now, am I?

(laughs)

Southfields Mobile Home Park,

number 27.

So was she happily married?

Just cutting to the chase.

Matt: The volume on the telly, the washing up...

whether there's anything hotter than a vindaloo.

Yeah, the pair of us could argue for England.

Recently...

I'm the stepfather from hell, apparently,

'cause I think Tanya could use a bit more discipline.

Leanne's walked out on me before,

and she's always come back.

We've always made up.

But this time,

my...

my little girl is out there on her own,

and there's... there's nothing I can do about it.

The best they can offer

is talk about standing up on the telly

and doing one of them stupid appeals.

I mean, what the hell good is that gonna do?

Better than sitting here.

Yeah, she's quite pretty I suppose,

but what men find attractive

is a bloody mystery, if you ask me.

Hi, Danielle. Oh, hi.

Kyle. It's Kyle.

Anyway now she's dead, innit?

And that gorgeous little girl.

God, how sad is that?

(exercise machine beeping)

(woman vocalizing)

I've got a favor to ask you, Mrs. Poole.

Leanne's never been one to have a proper system,

but I always say to her, you'll need a system

when Rosie goes to school.

You read about these things happening to other people.

Grandma!

I've always changed all the linen on a Saturday,

and I still do. Wasps might come in.

So you're staying here now, Tanya?

'Til I can escape to my dad's.

It's good for my French.

No one gives me any grief in France.

Barbara: Matt does not give you grief, Tanya.

He always does his best for you.

You must try not to be so ungrateful.

Mrs. Poole, this press conference,

I know it sounds nerve-racking,

but it's not as though you have to answer any questions.

The senior investigating officer will do all that.

Grandma.

You're freaking them out.

And don't even think about knocking on their door, Mic.

They won't talk to you. Is it murder yet?

As you well know, this is a missing-persons enquiry,

and there's a news conference in...

Oh, God, look at the time.

What about this line that she was over the side?

Leanne was having an affair?

Says who?

Foster: A: she left her handbag

and her mobile in the car.

B: she's drawn no money.

C: she's spoken to none of her family

or known associates.

And D: her little girl's missing

and it's all over the newspapers,

which would bring any living female

screaming straight home.

I don't care if it's Brad Pitt she's shagging.

(knock on door)

Barclay: Come in.

Good piece of intelligence, thanks.

We're discussing it now.

Just pressroom gossip, really.

She's not run off with a fancy man.

It's ridiculous.

Amy, the press will always be faster than us

on some things. They don't have to play

by the same rules we do.

They're chewing my ears off, wanting to know

when you're gonna launch a murder enquiry.

Until I've got evidence to support a murder hypothesis,

Leanne and Rosie remain missing persons.

But the public is gonna want to hear that from you.

(cell phone rings)

They really don't appreciate it

when five-year-old girls

get into cars with strange men,

and they're gonna want reassurance

about their own kids.

Look, I've prepared

a media strategy document for you,

and we'll just need five minutes

to rehearse your replies.

Performing monkey now.

When I've got something to say to the press, Tops,

I'll be sure to let you know.

No, love, it's the Bosnian community worker I'm after.

Yeah. Yes, I can hold.

I took "no" for an answer yesterday, and I shouldn't have,

and I'm not going to today.

I know you think you've got more important things to do.

Ordinarily, I wouldn't even disagree with you about that,

but, Iain, you've got no witnesses.

No flower seller, no white-van man, no sightings,

no forensic,

which means that, for now,

the media is bigger than the investigation.

It's Saturday afternoon, so it's Sunday papers.

3:30 on the dot at St. Savior's Church Hall

or we'll miss their deadlines.

Okay.

Result.

Well done. The lucky girl.

(laughter and applause)

Mic: I'd buy you a pint, but I know you're a busy man.

You tight old poof.

Ooh, the voice of modern policing.

I can't call it murder just to make your job easier.

It's your call.

But if I take what turns out

to be the wrong line in tomorrow's paper...

Okay, Mic, what's your preference?

"Devil woman abandons her kids," or shazzam...

"Perfect mom in double-slaying shock"?

Don't give up your day job, sweetie.

It makes a pretty good front page

for you, either way. Alas, the front page

is reserved for the little girl

and the evil bastard pedophile kidnapper

for whom shooting is too good, blah blah blah.

You should know I never comment

on speculation like that.

As for this boneheaded notion

about some affair you've decided

the mother was having...

Ahead of you on that one, am I?

No, all we're getting from everyone

is hearts and flowers.

So you don't want to know

who the lucky bit on the side is?

(singing in French)

Her ex-husband.

He's in France. Hence my witty

and appropriate choice of song.

Thanks for that. You're a pal. Hey!

Hey, swapsies. (kisses)

Hey!

Bastard.

Bastard.

Afternoon.

Cutting it fine. Famous for it.

Mic Danes.

Josh Fairley. Pleased to meet you.

I hope it's not too milky.

It seems so strange, me sat here like this

with this bit of paper with words on it

and them all waiting for me in there,

and I realize

I still don't believe any of this is really happening.

I want you to know I don't blame Matt for saying no.

I don't want you to blame him either.

He's a good man.

I keep telling her, "Leanne, you don't deserve him."

(strained laugh)

Beam: Daf Parry, first husband, lives in France.

He's five years older than Leanne.

He knocked her up while she was still at school.

Halfway through her "A" levels, Tanya was born,

which did for her education.

Consequently, Mom and Dad don't like him very much.

When you spoke to him on the phone, though?

He said he was out doing viewings

all that day from dusk 'til dawn,

showing rich British people

'round their dream homes with swimming pools.

He sounded genuine enough.

What, for an estate agent? Yeah, for an estate agent.

Call him back, tell him you won't be able

to get there before the press do.

Beam: Okay.

Oh, Jim doesn't like French food.

Send someone else. Oi! Butt out, you.

Guv, press officer, says it's urgent.

We won't be able to get the comrog 'til midweek,

but we can get started on everything else now.

So, we need to find out where he was...

I think they're winding up now. Yeah.

Foster: Dig into his past a little bit.

He's grabbed his coat.

Can't keep the beast waiting much longer, Tops.

I wonder who changed his mind.

Mr. Wellings, thank you. Thank you for coming.

There'll be flashes going off and noises

and everybody looking at you,

but just take no notice, okay?

You'll be fine.

(clamoring)

woman: Mr. Wellings, please. Just look over here.

Okay, I don't want to keep you waiting any longer,

and I'm sorry that Detective Superintendent Barclay

has been unavoidably held up. Barclay's banker, the wanker.

I have two members of the family here,

Rosie's father Matt and grandmother Barbara.

Matt will read a prepared statement,

but he will not, I repeat, not take any questions

at this time or any other time,

and I would ask that you respect

the family's feelings and their privacy.

Josh: Mr. Wellings, can you confirm

that your wife was pregnant when she disappeared?

Mr. Wellings?

Matthew?

(clamoring)

Well, was she or not?

Tops: Mrs. Poole's not here to take questions.

I'll make a note of your query for later.

man: Why not get us someone who can tell us something now?

Where's your senior investigating officer?

I told you, Detective Superintendent Barclay

has been unavoidably detained.

Have you found the flower wagon yet? No?

What about the driver of the white van? No?

Any progress of any kind

you'd like to share with us, Ms. Topcu?

Could everyone just simmer down

and then perhaps Mrs. Poole

might be able to make her statement?

I can't find my glasses.

There. Oh.

Thank you.

I just wanted to say

that Rosie is our little angel,

and that Leanne was a wonderful...

that Leanne is a wonderful mother.

I'm her mom, and I know her,

and I know she couldn't abandon her children.

But you know what? I hope she did.

I hope she did abandon them.

I hope she walked away and left them alone in that car.

Because every day that goes by with no word from her

is a day closer to the moment

when we'll be sitting here,

talking about the murder of my only child.

(wailing)

Okay, ladies and gentlemen, that's it.

Could you turn off now, please?

It's okay. I'm sorry. I'm all right now.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Mrs. Poole, if I may just apologize

on behalf of my colleagues

for some boorish behavior earlier...

Thank you.

...and ask you just how satisfied you are

with the standard of a police investigation

that left it to a passerby to find your grandson?

You didn't tell us Leanne was pregnant.

That's because if she was, she didn't tell me.

Would it have been a problem?

We can't afford it. We've got a mortgage.

Rosie starts school after Christmas

and we need Leanne to go back to work.

It was all agreed between us.

You didn't suspect-- What is this, Simone?

I'm supposed to confide in you

just 'cause you're black?

(clears throat)

I want to stop.

I want to stop at the lay-by.

Are you sure?

Please, Simone. Okay.

Excuse me, excuse me. What are you doing?

What are you doing?

Just putting flowers down.

Enjoying yourself, are you? Hey!

Fuck off with your flowers!

You want her dead. You want my little girl dead.

Take your fucking flowers and fuck off!

Everybody stand back, please.

She's not dead!

Move this way, thank you.

Thank you. Give him some space.

Thank you. (crying)

All right, just leave him.

Matt: Get off me.

Sarah: People just want to help.

Nobody can help.

We are all alone in this world.

I learned that a long time ago.

Only when we choose to be.

And I chose this in what way exactly?

What do you know about what we're going through?

I do know.

I made a mistake about the press conference.

I shouldn't have said do it.

You're getting off on this, aren't you?

On our pain.

And I don't even know you.

Matt!

(crying) Dad!

Fuck off back to your own world.

Ethan: Come back!

(Ethan bangs on window)

Ethan.

Matt: It's all right, baby. It's all right.

(woman vocalizing)

I've written your comments down, madam, yes,

and I will indeed pass them on to my superior officers.

Bringing out every nutter in the country, this job.

Shaky, these Bosnians of yours?

World expert, me. Ask me anything.

I've been talking to my mate

in one of the Met's dipper squads,

and he's warning that our man

might not be a real Bosnian at all.

I don't-- I don't-- Serbs, Croats,

Slovenes, Macedonians,

Albanians, God knows who else-- well, Bosnians.

It's like, well, pardon me, okay, Shaky?

But it's like "Pakis." It's a catchall.

Bollocks!

(laughter)

Barclay: I had intelligence that Leanne Wellings

might be over the side,

and I took the view that I had to mount

a risk assessment immediately on the alleged lover.

I now accept that putting

my strictly-defined investigative duties

before the public relations remit

was a poor decision, ma'am.

I'll sing and dance on telly like a good boy every day

from now on, and let someone else

worry about finding the missing girl.

Grow up, Iain.

I know we need the media, Jenny.

I know. I've got an angry 12-year-old press officer

who keeps telling me so.

The spotlight could not be trained

more fiercely on us.

We're all fighting

for our professional reputations here.

Not you. Every time I look at you, you've got

another bit of scrambled egg on your shoulder.

You'll be chief constable by Christmas.

I'm talking about restructuring.

One year from now, this constabulary

could effectively be dead and buried.

And the only way to ensure our survival...

Is to do the best job.

And to do it publicly.

In this case, very, very publicly.

So not only do I have to solve a probable double murder

before the eyes of a critical nation,

I also have the pensions

of 2 1/2 thousand innocent officers

resting on my narrow shoulders.

You love it, Iain.

All I want is to be left alone to do this my own way.

You're in the wrong job.

Yeah.

I'd think better of you, Iain, if you'd just admit

you'd do anything to avoid the cameras.

No.

Albert Hall tonight, is it?

Bit of Wagner, bit of Prokofiev.

Oh. Don't pull that face.

Once upon a time, you let me take you to the proms.

Yes, and you slept the whole way through it.

Oh, Iain, be sure to put it in writing

how you're intending to handle the race angle.

He happens to be black.

That does not mean there is a race angle.

Yes, it does.

(knocking on door)

(dog barking)

Oh, go away. Leave us alone.

I'll see them off, Matt. Don't worry.

Come here, girl, come on.

Hello.

Excuse me, the family aren't giving interviews.

Oh, no, actually, I'm not a journalist.

I told that P.C.

I'm not here to bother the family.

Are you all right, girl?

Come here. Are you? Good girl.

This really isn't a good time.

Oh, I'm Francis Cross.

I'm from the animal shelter.

It's my responsibility Daddy!

to make sure the dog's all right.

Ethan: Don't let them take away my dog.

'Cause with everything else that's been going on,

you know, I just need to make sure the...

I don't want you here!

Get off! What you doing?

I don't want you here.

I want you away from my family

and off my property.

Get off. Leave me alone.

Francis: Get off!

Get him off! Get him off!

Leave me alone!

Are you gonna arrest me?

I will if I have to, Matt, for God's sake.

Am I a suspect?

No, you're not.

According someone suspect status is a big deal.

It's not something we do lightly.

I will never lie to you, Matt.

I'll always tell you everything I can.

Now there may be stuff I have to keep back,

stuff it's better for the investigation

that you don't know.

And we do have to eliminate you

and that's sometimes gonna mean

questions you don't like.

Actually, there's something I need to ask you now.

I'm listening.

How would you describe Leanne's relationship

with her ex-husband?

Long distance.

There's talk she may have been having an affair.

She's got three children.

When's she got time to have an affair?

What, with Daf? Well?

(laughing) No, absolutely not.

Not if he was the last man on the planet.

He's a bastard, Simone.

I'll tell you the kind of man Daf Parry is.

Since this happened,

he hasn't even phoned his daughter.

He hasn't even phoned poor little Tanya.

Just 'cause dad's a rebel,

just 'cause he lives his own life,

'cause it's not a rehearsal.

Well, that's what he says.

Don't look like that.

I'm not looking like anything.

They have different telly in France and everything.

And my room's bigger.

Want to lick the spoon?

When your mom was a little girl,

she used to love raw cake mixture.

Hmm. That's not how you spell "strawberry."

You're supposed to be retired. Stop being such a teacher.

Okay.

Kyle.

Are you in, love?

(sighs)

(faint bang)

Honestly, Kyle, you'd think you'd be able

to carry out your own dirty dishes.

(telephone rings)

Incident room, D.C. Nawaz.

All right, love, calm down.

This might not be anything.

Well, a lot of petty theft, a bit of class "C,"

youth custody, no violence, and this one's

not on the sex offenders register.

She wouldn't give her name, the woman who rang.

Said she was a neighbor. Well, she could be the wife.

The number of wives that shop their husbands...

He's got what she thinks

could be a dog bite on his hand.

Yeah. She said she never said anything before

'cause his van's got no writing on the side, right?

But he has been washing it, every day,

and this boy, he never washes his van.

Ethan said the van was dirty, remember, Ames?

Yeah, he also said it had writing on the side, dumbo.

Writing in the dirt?

(sighs)

Barclay: Just a thought.

So what are we waiting for?

It might help your headlines.

Okay, come on. Out with it.

I know you have to make decisions

based on priorities,

but you left me hung out to dry.

And worse, now, because of you, we've got a massive job

in scraping the family back off the ceiling.

And I'm sorry.

It won't happen again.

man on TV: And she hands over to Matthew Wellings,

the missing woman's husband at the time.

Tanya: Could he look any more guilty?

John: Tanya.

Well, could he? Walking out like that.

How does saying things like that

help anyone, hmm?

Sorry!

man on TV: So, not many answers here, are there?

Barbara: Why didn't she tell me she was pregnant, John?

I'm her mother.

Why did she never confide in me?

man on TV: ...mobile flower wagon was doing business.

And just coming back to the police news conference now,

where it looks like Leanne's mother is about to speak.

Mrs. Barbara Poole.

I'm her mom and I know her and I know

she couldn't abandon her children...

Leanne always went to her granddad.

You know that.

It was always him she confided in.

I suppose that's my fault.

No, love, no.

Any mistakes we made,

we made together.

That's not true though, is it?

You indulged her.

You never backed me up about discipline

or boyfriends or...

You never let me in.

Do you know what? I hope she did.

Maybe if we had more children.

Barbara on TV: I hope she did abandon them. I hope she walked away

and left them alone in that car.

Because every day that goes by

with no word from her

is a day closer to the moment

when we'll be sitting here,

talking about the murder

of my only child.

(wailing)

(TV remote clicks)

How did I get to be so old?

(woman vocalizing)

I didn't mean to lose Rosie.

(door hinges creak)

Yes!

(bangs)

(car starts, departs)

Oh, shit.

Don't move.

Don't...

(clicks)

Answer!

Help! Somebody call the police!

It's her! It's Rosie! Quick! The lost kid!

News desk. Yeah, it's urgent.

Help!

Will you bugger off? I'm not buying!

No, I found her!

She was in there on her own!

Jesus, what's the time?

You know, I thought I heard something,

but there's so many cats around here yowling,

I'm always complaining to the noise abatement.

News desk. Hold on. Could you just--

No, not her. This.

Um, just turn it, point and click.

No, not that one. That one. Okay.

Rosie. There.

(clicks)

(rock music playing)

Watch where you're going!

(sirens wailing)

(salsa ringtone)

Could you pick a more annoying ringtone?

Farnes.

Where's the children's ward?

Second right.

Thank you.

Rosie, Rosie. No, don't, Matt.

No, you mustn't.

You mustn't touch her, remember?

Remember you agreed?

Daddy. I'm sorry, Matt,

but 'til the forensic medical exam's done,

we have to treat Rosie...

...like a scene.

Treat my Rosie like a scene of the crime.

I didn't touch her. I didn't do anything to her.

I bought her here to the old man's place, didn't I?

I took her where she'd be safe.

I want my mother. Get my mother!

Picture desk.

Okay, it's Josh Fairley.

No, I don't work for you,

but do you want this picture or not?

I'm sending it through now. Okay, bye.

It's your mom you should be ringing.

Ah, she'll be that proud, she will, seeing your name

on the front of a Sunday newspaper.

Oh, silly me,

assuming your mom reads the tabloids.

Now you're going to warn me to watch myself

'cause the nationals

are full of bum bandits like Mic Danes.

I daresay you can handle yourself

with the likes of him.

It's different for you, Rawdon.

You like golden weddings and fun runs

and community and... I feel bad enough

without you rubbing my nose in it, all right?

Good luck, lad.

That's all I was gonna say.

It's a great story...

if you hadn't missed half of it.

What?

Two minutes after you hot-tailed it,

the police turned up.

So?

And made an arrest. (chuckles)

Shit! Shit! Shit! (bangs table)

He's not a bad boy, you know?

He just gets things wrong.

(sniffling) He can't help it.

It's always been the same.

(sighs and sniffles)

He's never been able to make friends,

so it's always just been me and him.

He's not going to know

that it's me that told you, is he?

Oh, God.

You mustn't tell him

that it was me that told you.

You mustn't tell him.

Oh, please. (crying)

Vic: I didn't know. I mean, how was I to know?

How could you be so careless?

I didn't lose it.

He didn't steal it.

I gave it to him.

You gave Kyle Betts the key to your caravan?

Well, he said he wanted to keep cigarettes in it.

You know, duty frees, he said.

Yeah, all right, I know, I know.

It's illegal.

A little bit of black market, smuggled,

I expect, yes, I expect so, too.

From Yugoslavia

or some other

Godforsaken...

Anyway, why should the government have my money?

Look what they spend it on.

Kyle gets a place to store his boxes

and you get free smokes.

Shame on you, Dad.

I did it as a favor to his mom,

to Hazel.

She's always got a pleasant smile for me.

woman on radio: Headlines tonight... Police have confirmed

that four-year-old Rosie Wellings

has tonight been found safe and apparently unharmed.

She's currently resting in hospital

but is expected to return home at the weekend.

woman #2 on radio: Live news, live sports...

(dials phone number)

man on radio: This is BBC Radio 5 live.

(telephone ringing)

(beeps)

Leanne's voice: Hi, this is Leanne.

Sorry we can't take your call at the moment,

but please leave a message and we'll call you back.

(hangs up)

Matt, I'd like you

to meet Detective Superintendent Barclay,

our senior investigating officer.

Busy man.

Good to meet you. How's Rosie?

The doctors think he gave her something

to keep her quiet.

That's why she's so sleepy.

Doing loads of blood tests.

They...

they can't be sure whether he...

whether he touched her.

But why are you asking me? I mean,

you know more about it than I do, right?

So, you tell me.

'Cause here's the thing I can't bear...

It's looking at her and not knowing.

Well, the forensic medical examiner

found no evidence

of sexual or physical assault.

No. No, I need it

much more definite than that.

Barclay: Definite is quite difficult

in circumstances like these.

Matt: He had her for two days.

You didn't find her for two days.

What else is he gonna do with her?

Look, I'm not gonna go off on one,

and I don't want to be difficult,

and I don't want to make your job

any harder than it is already,

but I want you to find my wife.

I need you to find her, dead or alive.

Listen to me. God.

I want you to have my mobile number.

I want you to feel able to call me.

What's the point?

You don't know any more than I do.

Simone, will you take Matt out

for a bit of fresh air? Matt: No.

Go on, I'll watch Rosie. Go on, just for a bit.

No! Just clear your head.

I'm not letting her out of my sight.

(crying)

(woman vocalizing)

(knocking on door)

I kept saying to myself,

I bet they're together somewhere.

I bet they are.

I bet Mom found Rosie...

somehow,

and they just got lost coming home.

Just trying to believe it.

We'll find your mom. We will.

By the pricking of his thumbs...

Don't! I'm 13, for God's sake!

...the grand vizier to her beauteous Highness Tanya

will now demonstrate his magical ability...

You're just being pathetic.

...to read minds.

Oh, no! Her beauteous Highness Tanya

thinks this whole thing is her fault.

Which wicked fairy

has put this wicked lie into her pretty head?

I stayed in my room

and I didn't go with them like I was supposed to,

and I told a lie.

You had your homework, love.

I told Mom I had homework.

I just didn't want to go see Greats.

His room's smelly.

You mustn't blame yourself.

None of this is your fault, none of it.

This is the scariest thing that's ever happened to me.

Me too, love.

(crying) Me too.

Hey, don't cry. It's all right.

Someone has to know where she is.

(yawns)

woman: Oi.

Oh, hello, love.

I'm back again. Oi!

I don't believe it. Don't you...

Police!

Out of the way!

(men shouting)

Stop! Stop!

Police, watch your backs!

Mind your backs!

I've got you now. I've got you now, boy!

Come here! Come here!

(theme music playing)