She took a breath, knowing she just needed to stay calm and try to find April.

But at the thought of moving past the bins and round to the front a vivid image of Issa stalking towards her struck her, and she leaned back against the wall for fear of falling.

O’Malley slowed just before the entrance to the petrol station, his eyes scanning the forecourt. He was almost past it by the time he saw the back of April’s Lotus. It only became visible as a large vehicle pulled out from behind it.

Cringing at the thought of being rammed, he stepped on the brakes, and felt the car begin to skid as he turned the wheel. The Astra hung for a moment, as if unsure whether to let him live through this or not, and then suddenly gained grip, and lurched towards the forecourt. He pressed the brakes harder and managed to bring the car into a controlled entry with a few feet to spare.

Breathing hard, he drove round the queue waiting to fuel up and dumped the Astra in the space reserved for putting air in the tyres. A quick glance showed him that the Lotus was empty. He tried to remember what kind of car Alex Plaskitt had owned. The one Issa might be driving.

His eye fell on the Fiesta that was now sitting two spaces behind the Lotus. It was empty, too, despite the fact that the driver hadn’t made it to a pump.

O’Malley checked his waistband for his baton, and then jogged towards the shop.

The clunk and squeak of metal as the back door opened was one of the most terrifying sounds Louise had ever heard. She should have moved. She should have gone round to the front of the shop.

And then Issa’s quiet voice said, ‘Louise,’ and her flesh crawled. She was trying to remember. To remember if this was the voice she’d heard that night, even while she pushed herself away from the wall and tried to stumble away from him.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.

And Louise found herself stopping. Turning. He was crying again. She could only remember ever seeing him in distress. Even when he’d been angry with her.

He was putting his hand into his pocket, and she tried to back away further. Had he armed himself with another knife? With a gun?

And then he pulled his hand out and it wasn’t a knife. It was a box of some kind. Dark wood inlaid with gold.

‘I found this in Alex’s car,’ he said.

He was holding it out to her, and she didn’t want to come closer to him. It must be a trick to get her to come over, so he could attack her. The knife would come out from another pocket, and he would kill her.