She was more frightened then than she had been when he was right behind her, tearing at her trouser leg with his knife. From the dune where she stood, catching her breath, she could see her car, ordinary and familiar on the grass. It seemed such a short distance away. She supposed she should creep towards it, keeping below the skyline, playing the same game as he was, so he would not know where she was either. But suddenly panic took over and she ran towards the orange car at fulltilt. She might even have started screaming again. She wanted only to be away from the place and the man who was following her. She thought when she reached the short, cropped grass of the carpark that the nightmare was over. There was nothing then between her and safety. It was only when she was nearly at the car, with several yards to go, already feeling in her pocket for her keys, that a man stepped out of the shadow of the Mini. He caught her in his arms and her screams echoed over the quiet and empty landscape.

On the way to Brinkbonnie Ramsay said nothing. After the shared elation of the Incident Room he seemed to close in on himself and shut Hunter off. He was deep in concentrated thought and Hunter sensed a lack of confidence.

He’s losing his nerve, Hunter thought. He’s not up to the job. That was the trouble with these small-town men. So little happened in the rural divisions that when there was some action they didn’t have a clue how to do the thing properly. Perhaps it was time to put in for a transfer to Newcastle Central before he turned into one of them.

Just outside Brinkbonnie they were given the information that a young policeman had seen Mary’s car at an accident on the Otterbridge Road, and they knew they were going in the right direction. Hunter cheered under his breath, but Ramsay would not allow himself to be optimistic. On the edge of the village he made Hunter slow down. He did not want the people there frightened by speeding cars and sirens. On the lane they went faster again and saw the Mini immediately, parked just beyond the carpark attendant’s hut.

“No sign of Laidlaw,” Hunter said. Ramsay’s silence was irritating him. What was the matter with the man? The thing was nearly over. Still Ramsay said nothing.

“Shall I drive on up the track and look for his car?” Hunter asked.

“Yes,” Ramsay said. “Drive on. But if we don’t find it soon, park. We must find the woman. That’s the important thing.”

The track was dry and rutted and Hunter was driving slowly. There was no sign of a car and he could sense his superior’s tension and impatience.