She’s spent the past year being angry with her sister: if only Bethany hadn’t taken those work calls on a Saturday afternoon; if only she hadn’t asked their father to look after their daughter. But Bethany has finally persuaded her that their father does have dementia and that it wasn’t his fault. As the police had told her after the post-mortem, it was a tragic accident. Amy has also missed her sister, and this holiday has brought them closer again. She thought Bethany felt the same way. Would she really have gone out and got drunk instead of being here, with her, for Ruby-May’s anniversary? Amy finds it hard to believe, and unease and anxiety gnaw at her. She climbs the stairs to their bedroom with an effort. She’s so tired she can hardly keep her eyes open, although she doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep.

16 AUGUST, ITALY

31

NICK

My heart is hammering in my chest and I only have a moment to wonder what woke me, when the banging on the front door starts up again. I stumble downstairs, stubbing my toe in my haste.

It’s Martelli. It’s still dark outside and I can’t see his expression. I feel as if my bowels have liquefied. There’s only one reason why a police officer who had been so uninterested would be back here before midday.

‘Have you found Bethany?’

‘Can I come in?’

I step back to let him into the sitting room. The shadows under his eyes have darkened to purple and there’s stubble across his jawline. The white scar through his eyebrow seems more pronounced.

‘She is still missing?’

I give a curt nod. Something curdles in my stomach.

‘I have a call about a young woman on the beach near to here,’ Martelli says. ‘I go, I see her. She look like how you describe your sister: she has the long dark hair, is around one metre seventy, slim.’

‘How old is she? Is she English?’

‘I do not know.’

‘Is she okay? What happened?’

‘I think someone has attack her. She is unconscious,’ Martelli says. ‘I find her lying in the sand. I telephone to the paramedics and they take her to the hospital. She is in the critical condition. I go now, but I come here first, to check if your sister has returned or you have the phone call from her.’

‘No, I haven’t heard from her. I’ll come with you.’

I drag on some jeans and grab my wallet and phone. Matt and Amy must be exhausted: they’ve slept through Martelli pounding on the door, and there’s no sign of anyone else, apart from me. Martelli is waiting impatiently, pacing up and down the drive, the stones crunching beneath his feet.