50 Monday 6 August, 6.50pm.
Shortly after speaking to Michael, the previous receptionist who’d just clocked off shift at the hotel, McKenna put the call out to trace Lewis Hopkins’s home address and potential whereabouts.
It had taken a while for anything to come back, but McKenna had mentioned Hopkins’s previous convictions, which should have made him a little more traceable.
Finally, though, the call came.
‘We’ve got an address for him,’ the officer on the other end of the phone said, reeling off an address around twenty miles away. Far enough to not bump into people from his old life on a regular basis, but close enough to keep in the loop if he needed to. ‘It took a bit of time, though. Turns out he changed his name by deed poll not long after leaving prison. Maybe he wanted to sta
