She was clear. It was a stomach upset and not a return of the cancer. There would be blood tests and check-ups for a while, but for now, she was in perfect health.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘But there’s something I have to tell you.’

There was a seriousness in his tone which she was not expecting. She was expecting joy and happiness and laughter. She stopped walking and turned to him.

‘What is it?’

‘Let’s wait until we get to the car.’

‘Martin. What is it? Tell me.’

His eyes flickered right and left, before he caught her gaze. For a moment she wondered if he was going to confess to something. An affair, maybe.

‘DI Wynne called. You remember her?’

‘How could I forget. What did she want?’

‘She said they think Maggie has been held captive. They found the room.’ He took a deep breath. ‘It was in Mr Best’s house. Under his garage.’

It was a good job he was holding her. Whether it was the sedative or the news or a combination of both, she stumbled and he had to catch her.

‘Best?’ she said. ‘He took her? But – but he ate with us. He was my teacher.’

‘I know. It’s almost unbelievable.’

‘Are they sure it’s him?’

Martin nodded. ‘They seem to be.’

Had his friendship all been a sham, then? It was hard to believe, but then she remembered the book he had been reading that time at the hospital. The Collector. It had struck her as odd at the time, but now she understood what had actually been going on. He had been toying with her, stringing her along for his own amusement.

Sandra felt something drain away from her – belief in the goodness of other people, maybe – as well as a rising anger – at Best, but also at herself. How had she missed it? How had she let him get away with it?

‘Should we have known?’ she whispered. ‘Could we have seen it?’

‘I don’t know,’ Martin said. ‘But we can save that for later. Wynne said Maggie escaped and called 999. They traced the call to Best, but by the time they got to his house, he was gone. Maggie too.’

‘So what are they doing?’

‘Looking for them.’

‘Oh, God. Is she alive?’

‘They think so.’

‘But with Best?’

‘Yes.’

‘Our little girl,’ Sandra said. ‘She’s alive, Martin.’

‘I hope so.’

‘I know,’ Sandra said. ‘I always knew. We have to go home. She might get away from him again. We need to be there.’ She stared at Martin. Why did he look so worried. ‘Martin. You know what this means. She’s alive! Our daughter’s alive!’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But she’s with Best. And until she’s back with us, I won’t be celebrating.’

Wynne