‘Well, what about Pamela?’ Fran throws out, spitting the words at Dominic from across the room. The air between them is so thick you could cut it with a knife, and I hope that neither DI Dove or DS Wright thinks that the atmosphere here is always like this, even though sometimes, it can be.

‘Jesus Christ, Fran, you’re clutching at straws! Don’t be so . . . God.’ Dominic gets to his feet and starts pacing as the police officers say nothing, only watch.

‘Clutching at straws!’ Fran cries. ‘Of course I am, Dominic! My child is missing! My daughter is out there, somewhere, with God only knows who . . .’ Her voice cracks and she covers her face with her hands. Kelly moves towards her, and Fran stiffens as Kelly’s arm goes around her shoulders.

‘Sorry . . . who is Pamela?’ DI Dove asks quietly, clearly accepting the heightened emotion in the room as he seems completely unfazed.

‘No one,’ Dominic says, ‘no one important, or relevant. She’s an ex-girlfriend.’ He suddenly sounds very tired. ‘I went out with her before I met Fran. She’s nobody, I haven’t had anything to do with her for years. Look, I think I want to go down to the field, see if they need any help with the search.’

‘Mr Jessop, I’d really appreciate it if you could stay here at the house, just for . . .’

‘No! I’m sorry, but no. Am I under arrest? Can you legally stop me from leaving my house, right now?’

‘No, we can’t but you must understand . . .’

‘No, you must understand. You’ve torn my house apart, you’re asking us the same questions over and over . . . you should be out there looking for my daughter, not here, questioning me. So, if you’ll excuse me, I am going out there to search for Laurel, whether you people like it or not.’ He shoulders his way past DI Dove, who frowns but says nothing.

‘I’ll come with you,’ I say, jumping at the chance to get out of the house, to get away from the cloying, claustrophobic atmosphere that has swallowed up every fitting and all its inhabitants. Plus, I am eager to get out there, to be doing something constructive to help bring Laurel home.

Grabbing a coat from the rack and snatching up my mobile, I step out into the cold, fresh November morning, thinking as I do so that when I last left this house, Laurel was clinging tightly to my hand, bubbling over with excitement and now . . . well, now who knows where she can be? Fighting off the exhaustion that tugs at my bones, I fall into step with Dominic, who marches on towards the field in silence, and I inhale the crisp air, hoping to clear my head. I need to find Laurel, before it’s too late. I can’t let something awful happen again. It can’t happen again.

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 4