Shit. Was it mum? She’d been ill. Maybe she was sick again. Well, if she was, all the more reason to go through with this. He picked up the needle and looked at the point, examined its sharpness, got ready for the prick and the rush.

His phone buzzed again.

Call me. It’s about Maggie.

Maggie? What the fuck was this? He put the needle down and called his dad.

‘Dad? It’s me. What’s up?’

‘Where are you?’

‘At the flat.’

‘I’m on my way. I’ll pick you up there.’

‘No.’ He didn’t want to see him. ‘What did you mean, it’s about Maggie?’

There was a pause.

‘They found her.’ His dad sniffed. ‘But then they lost her again.’

‘They what?’

‘It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when I see you.’

‘Tell me now.’

‘James—’

‘Dad! Tell me now! I want to know what happened!’

‘OK.’ He heard the sound of an engine starting. ‘I’ll be there in a few minutes, but I’ll fill you in on the way.’

‘Best,’ James said. He was sitting in the front seat of the car. ‘That fucking bastard. If I ever get my hands on him I’ll rip his fucking throat out. I was at his house, and she was there, under his fucking garage.’

‘That’s what DI Wynne said,’ his dad replied.

‘And he ran away?’

‘Yes. He had a plan. He must have wondered if this day would come. They found his car at the Sparkedge industrial estate. He must have had a spare one hidden there.’

‘So now he still has her but no one knows where he is.’

His dad drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘I know. I feel like someone has their hand in my stomach and is twisting it around and around.’

‘Can we go to Sparkedge? I want to see.’

‘I don’t think there’s much—’

‘Just go, Dad. I want to have a look. She’s my sister.’

His dad nodded. He turned left at the next roundabout. Ten minutes later they were approaching the gates of the industrial estate.

A PC was standing by a car, arms folded. He walked over to James and Martin.

‘I’m afraid you’ll have to move on,’ he said. ‘This is a crime scene.’

‘I’m Martin Cooper. Maggie’s my daughter.’

‘Oh. I see. I’m sorry, sir, but the premises are still off-limits.’

James listened. His hands shook. He looked at them, surprised at the physical manifestation of his need. For the last hour he hadn’t thought of the needle or pills; all he had thought of was Maggie.

For the first time in years he felt alive. For the first time in years, he felt there was something worth doing.

He sat on his hands and made himself a promise. If Maggie was returned he would clean up. The drugs would be history.