Sucking in a deep breath, he swung around the corner. The barrel of his gun caught sight of a shape in the middle of the floor, bound to the handles of the kitchen cupboards and struggling to get free. It was Teri, her mouth gagged, her legs flailing on the slippery tiles and failing to find purchase. Her eyes were full of fear and he tried to read if what he saw in them was a warning of danger. She cast her eyes desperately to the right. Chandler followed them. In the far corner of the kitchen, two more figures were slumped on the floor, his parents, bound together, his dad bleeding from a head wound. He ran to them.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked both.

His mum nodded. His dad moaned in pain.

Taking a quick glance over his shoulder, he asked, ‘Is he still here?’

His mum shook her head. Chandler untied them. She pulled off the gag herself.

‘He took them,’ she said, gasping.

Being prepared for this didn’t soften the blow. Suddenly his extremities felt numb as if all the blood had drained from them.

‘Both of them? Where?’

‘I don’t know,’ his mum sobbed.

‘How long ago?’

‘Half an hour. He took my phone with him. Your father tried to stop them—’

Chandler pulled the gag from his father’s mouth.

‘Sorry, son,’ he said, his eyes narrowed in pain.

‘Did he hurt—’

He couldn’t finish the sentence.

‘No, he just took them with him. Warned us – warned you – not to tell the police.’

From behind came a distraught mumble.

Chandler returned to Teri and untied her. Her face was a mirror image of his: the same bottomless pit of worry. Expecting a torrent of abuse she instead wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight, the first time that they had been close for years, united in fear.

He moved them all to the house of one of their closest friends a few streets over, his dad reluctantly leaving the shotgun behind so as not to arouse suspicion, and his mum and Teri having to be persuaded not to roam the streets looking for Sarah and Jasper. This time, the reporters backed off as he stormed into the station.

Expecting the station to be abuzz, it was largely empty. Chained to the front desk and ignoring the buzzing phone, Nick’s face lit up.

‘Sarge!’

Chandler nodded once and put his finger to his lips. ‘Where is everyone?’

Nick clicked the mouse. ‘At Pete Stenzl’s place. Tom DeVrai rang in about lights being on in Old Pete’s shed and the sound of screaming. They think he’s hiding something.’

‘He probably is,’ said Chandler, ‘but it’s not Gabriel.’

Nick looked confused. ‘How do you know that?’