One sentence stood out.

IT’S WANTON DESTRUCTION OF BEAUTY OF A TYPE I ABHOR.

Which suggested that whoever it was had not killed Maggie. That would be wanton destruction of beauty.

And if he abhorred its wanton destruction, might he not want to preserve it? Keep it safe?

Which meant Maggie was alive, and in captivity somewhere. That had always been a possibility, but so too had murder. They had nothing to point them in either direction.

Until this letter. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Wynne to be convinced that this was a kidnapping and captivity case, which meant that she wasn’t dealing with a crime that had taken place ten years ago. She was dealing with a crime that was still going on.

And that meant they needed to keep looking for Maggie.

Sandra

Sandra sat in the waiting room. She felt nauseous, sick with anxiety.

A few days back, she had started to have stomach pains. They were different to the first time around but, understandably, she was very sensitive to any kind of stomach issue, so she went straight to her doctor, and she booked her in for another colonoscopy.

She was under no illusions about what might happen. She had been through this before. The first time she had cancer the treatment – chemotherapy, followed by surgery to remove the tumour from her upper colon, followed by more chemotherapy – had seemed to work. But then, at her six-month check-up, the doctors had bad news.

It was back. Not as bad as the first time, but back none the less.

Which meant a whole new round of treatment.

That too, had worked.

Ironically, the stomach pain was gone. After she got back from the doctor’s office she’d had diarrhoea and now everything seemed normal. But she had learned the hard way that that meant nothing.

Her phone buzzed. It was a text from Martin.

Saw James. He’s OK. Struggling a little. On way to the hospital.

James. He wouldn’t see her. She thought he was too embarrassed of what he had become in front of his mum. Martin was different; he was softer, more accommodating. She had been to James’s flat once and told him straight out what a disgrace it was, what a disgrace it was for a boy like him to live in filth.

She had not been back, and James had refused to see her. She missed him, but part of her was also relieved. It was too hard to watch.

She put her phone down, and waited.

Maggie

1

She heard the scraping noise. Max was playing on the floor. She picked him up. Pain flared in her left hand. Her eyes watered and she took a deep breath. Every second was agony, her hand like a ball of fire.