My mouth was dry and I felt off-balance, like something in my life had been dislodged from its proper place, pushing everything else out of sync. Nothing was where it should be.

I left him there. Bleeding.

But going back to the hotel was still the right thing to do. It was on me to put this right, that was all there was to it. My routine Thursday evening had taken a turn for the surreal, the confusing, the downright terrifying – but there was still time to get it back on track. It was just a case of doing the right thing.

He’ll be all right. Just a bump on the head. Mel will know what to do, we’ll figure it out together.

More than anything, I wanted to speak to my wife, make sure she was all right after her heated encounter with Ben this afternoon. Just let Mel be OK. Everything else we can deal with. Together. I’d been without a mobile phone for less than an hour but already felt cut off from the whole world.

I wound down the window and breathed in grey city air. Turned on the radio, trying to find something to take my mind off things. Turned up the music. By the time I’d turned off the North Circular, I had half convinced myself that Ben would be OK. He’d already be home now, drinking an expensive single malt at the lounge bar of his big Hampstead house. People don’t die from falling over and banging their head. They just don’t. Otherwise there would be thirty murders every Saturday night in every high street, every market square, in every town in Britain. I pulled onto the forecourt. Through the glass frontage of the hotel I could see the same waistcoated teenager as earlier behind the reception desk, talking on the phone.

The entrance to the underground car park gaped like an open mouth.

The barrier rose as I approached and I drove slowly down the ramp into the dull fluorescent light below ground. Deep shadows against the concrete. I parked, leaving William in the car again – this time he didn’t ask to come with me – and got out. Walked up and down the four rows of cars. Went to the spot Ben’s car had occupied a couple of hours ago.

There was no crime scene tape. No white tent. No police. There was nothing.

Ben, and his car, were gone.

6

My mobile was gone too.

As far as I could remember, this was the last place I’d had it in my hand. Right here in this car park, when I went to talk to Ben. Maybe I’d dropped it when things turned ugly. So where was it? I looked around, patted my jacket pockets again. Dropped to my knees and checked under the parked cars. Nothing. I walked a circle around the row of vehicles, squatted down again, squinting into the shadows. But it wasn’t there. Damn. A twinge in my stomach. One more thing to worry about.