‘Was this how you left the room?’ said PC Hussain from behind him.

Jameson looked around. The desk chair lay halfway across the floor on its side. The contents of the desk – the information pack, the tea and coffee sachets, the phone and the kettle – were strewn across the floor. The bed sheets were crumpled and hanging from the bed.

‘No,’ said Jameson. ‘No. It wasn’t like this. Everything was … where it should be.’ He stepped into the room. The bed sheets covered the chaise longue. Sarah’s bag had been there.

‘This might be a crime scene,’ said PC Hussain, before she radioed for assistance.

Jameson’s head pounded and his vision narrowed as a migraine took hold. He lifted his chin and forced himself to take deep breaths. He’d been in many dangerous, disturbing situations in the past and he’d coped with them with the calm disposition of a well-trained professional. But this was different. This was Sarah. His Sarah. Everything about their short relationship had been astonishing. He finally understood the connection he saw between his sister and brother-in-law. He got it. He saw with total clarity that he would never quite get over living his life without Sarah. He should have listened to Bloom.

His phone rang. Sarah?

Claire’s voice sounded loud and urgent in his ear. ‘Marcus, where are you and why the hell are you not in Manchester?’

‘It’s Sarah. They’ve taken Sarah.’

‘Who is Sarah? Oh, for fuck’s sake, are you kidding me? You’re fretting over your latest bit of skirt? We have a chance to get Jane back. I’m telling you now, Marcus, I’ll never forgive you if anything happens to her.’

‘Sarah is not my latest bit of skirt.’ A look passed between PC Hussain and the Head of Security.

‘I don’t care if she’s your frickin’ soul mate, Marcus. Jane is a child.’

‘And you’d just leave Dan to the whim of some twisted psycho, would you?’

‘Dan would never expect me to pick him over his child.’

‘Jane is not my child.’

‘Oh, I can’t believe … What sort of a man are you? I thought my brother had principles; he fought to protect people.’

‘Claire …’

‘No. Forget it. I’ll go to Manchester myself.’

Claire hung up. Jameson looked at his phone. Bloom had one minute to make her choice.

PC Hussain moved past him and into the room. ‘I’m going to make a brief assessment of the scene and check the bathroom. Could you both step into the corridor, please?’

The bathroom. Jameson looked at the closed door to the en-suite and felt his heart quicken. He knew there was a bath, shower, toilet and basin inside that black and white room, but what else would Hussain find? He knew from bitter experience that there were some things you could never unsee.