Dale cracked his knuckles. ‘Whoever wrote that shit must be a right nutter. I would really like to get my hands on the bastard.’

Megan sat in the nearest chair, actively avoiding the settee. ‘The fact that someone who’s capable of writing such a thing has our Lottie is too awful to think about. We’re agreed on that. But, what are we going to do about it? I feel so useless, sitting here, waiting for hour after hour. We’ve got to do something, but what?’

Doreen picked up her mug from the tray. ‘I’m going to head upstairs and give you two some time to speak alone. Is that okay with you, Meg? I can stay if you want me to.’

‘It’s fine, Mum, you’re looking tired. And it will be good for me and Dale to talk.’

Doreen climbed the stairs to the guest bedroom and closed the door against the world.

Dale raised a hand to his face. ‘The police showed me the fucking photos. Oh my God! What sort of sicko does something like that?’

Megan’s shoulders slumped as her tears began to flow. ‘I can’t get those pictures out of my head. They keep appearing behind my eyes. I think they’re imprinted on my brain for however long I live.’

‘What are you doing here, Meg? Why not stay at my place? Or a hotel. Why not book into a hotel? It’s not as if you’re short of a few quid. What if the bastard comes back?’

Megan moved forwards in her seat, reaching out and gripping Dale’s hand. ‘This is my home, and it’s Lottie’s home too. This may sound crazy, but I feel close to her here. I’m not giving up on that, not for anyone, and especially not for the shit stain that took her. He’s not taking that away from me. It may be the only thing I’ve got left.’

‘We’ve got to hold on to hope.’

‘I’m trying, believe me, I’m trying.’

‘Will you least let me move back in until this is over.’

Megan shook her head. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘But what use is your mum going to be if the bastard comes back for a third visit? I want to protect you. I can’t do that if I’m not here.’

‘I’ve got knives hidden all around the house. If he does come back, I’ll be ready for him. He’ll be begging to tell me where Lottie is before I finish with him.’

‘That’s not the best idea you’ve ever had.’

She snapped back at him. ‘What the hell else am I supposed to do?’

‘Okay, I hear you. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.’

Megan stood, crossing the room to where a three-quarter full bottle of brandy was sitting on the light-oak sideboard. She returned to her seat, pouring a generous tot into her coffee. ‘Are you going to have one?’

He shook his head, desperately resisting the golden spirit’s allure. ‘No, I haven’t touched the stuff since, well, you know, since the morning of the press conference. I can’t have the one, that’s my problem. Start, and I’ll finish the bottle. Although oblivion doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.’