She feared what she might find when she opened Lottie’s bedroom door. And in some strange way, it was something of a relief when she was met by the unmistakable stink of urine assaulting her nostrils. She stared at the soiled bedclothes and pillow, reassuring herself that she hadn’t found a body, Lottie’s body… or blood, there could have been blood. Things were bad, but they could have been worse. Things could always be worse.

Megan briefly considered searching the other first-floor rooms before rushing from the house, but her resolve had reached its limits, as her own bladder threatened to evacuate where she stood. It was time to get out of there. Time to phone the police. Time to seek help. There were clues, evidence, that was obvious even to her. Maybe the monster man had blown it this time.

Perhaps he’d revealed his identity, without ever realising his mistake. Megan reached into a pocket for Lewis’s card as she descended the stairs, dropping the knife to the hall floor as she reached the bottom. She was holding her smartphone in her hand as she opened the front door, gagging again on seeing the spittle covering Lottie’s photo. What sort of madman was she dealing with? What kind of animal? Megan stood outside on the uneven pavement and dialled, only having to wait a matter of seconds before hearing Lewis’s reassuringly gruff Welsh voice at the other end of the line.

‘You need to come back. You need to come back now. He’s been here. He’s been in my house.’

Lewis hit the brake hard, performing an expertly efficient U-turn despite the heavy traffic. ‘Are you sure, love?’

Megan spoke through her tears. ‘Yes, he’s… eh, oh God… he’s left Lottie’s hair on the lounge carpet.’

‘Where are you now?’

‘I’m outside, on… on the pavement, outside the house. What shall I… what… what shall I do?’

Lewis switched on the blue light, pressing the accelerator to the floor, signalling and passing two cars at speed despite the 30 mph limit. ‘I’m on my way, love. Do not go back into the house. Do you hear me? I’ll be with you in two minutes. Stay exactly where you are.’

26

Kesey sat on the three-seater settee with Edward sleeping next to her. She was drinking a cup of strong coffee sweetened with two heaped teaspoonfuls of cold-pressed Carmarthenshire honey, which she considered a justifiable treat at a difficult time. An iconic early Joan Armatrading album of which both she and Janet were particularly fond of was playing in the background.

‘Do you know, I actually told that poor woman that I suspected her of harming her daughter. She needs my support. I should be there for her. Holding her hand every step of the way. What the hell was I thinking?’

Janet set her latest chick-lit paperback aside, carefully folding the page. ‘Are you certain she didn’t play any part in her child’s disappearance?’

Kesey nodded. ‘Oh, I’m certain all right. Whoever took Lottie went back to her house while I was wasting my time interviewing her mother under caution. The bastard must be laughing his frigging head off. He took full advantage. He’s playing me for a mug.’