‘Could I have a cup of tea, please? A little milk and a lot of sugar,’ Donna said, frowning and rubbing her fingers along her lips. ‘Sugar…I found it helps, it stops me shaking.’ Sam tried not to stare at Donna’s bitten, bleeding fingers. Her forefinger and thumb were covered by plasters with pictures of Mr Men characters on them, no doubt bought for Matthew. Sam was glad to leave the room, but a sense of duty made her return quickly with the tea, a sugar bowl and some digestive biscuits on a tray. Donna ignored the biscuits and proceeded to spoon four sugars into her mug. She stirred the tea, blew on it, and then sipped it gingerly, looking over the rim of the mug directly into Sam’s eyes.

‘How are you coping?’ Sam asked, rubbing her temple, trying to ease the pounding headache that had been getting steadily worse all morning.

‘I’m not,’ she replied. ‘I am tired, scared, and I know you’re working very hard,’ Donna said, half hidden behind the cup, ‘but he’s my little boy and I want to help. I want to be part of the task force, go out and see if I can find my baby.’

Sam reached across and held the damaged hands. Shaking her head, she said slowly, ‘I’m afraid that’s out of the question, Donna. You’re not a police officer.’ She handed Donna a tissue. ‘You’re too emotionally involved. Go home, try to sleep, and leave it to the experts. Is that why you came here?’ Donna nodded. ‘Even if you could be involved, I wouldn’t be the one with the authority to make that decision,’ Sam admitted, wishing she could do more. There was a knock on the door and the desk sergeant popped his head round.

‘The super wants to see you upstairs,’ he said to Sam, and made way for Sheila Docherty, the family liaison officer, to squeeze into the room. A chill came with her and the hairs on Sam’s arms stood straight up. Kneeling down beside Donna she put both her arms around her and whispered: ‘Its time to go home, Donna. I’ll call you when I have any news.’

Chapter Twenty-Three