He tried not to think of the price she might be paying. If she was alive, the best possibility was that she was with a boyfriend, too high to call her parents, or living on the streets, suffering from some kind of amnesia. The other alternatives were far worse: kidnapped and sold as a sex slave, locked in a basement and chained to a bed somewhere.

The thought of that made him wince with a physical pain. She was his little girl. She should be here, where he could protect her.

And now James was late. He picked up Sandra’s phone and dialled the number of the phone he had given James.

It went to voicemail.

‘James,’ he said. ‘Phone when you get this.’

‘He didn’t answer?’

‘Voicemail.’ He tried to recall when he had last charged the phone he’d given to James. He was pretty sure it had been full when he handed it over, but maybe the battery was faulty. ‘Maybe no battery,’ he said.

Sandra shook her head. ‘Go and look for him,’ she said. ‘Drive to the cinema and see if he’s there. They sometimes play video games afterwards.’

He stood up. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll go.’

‘I’ll stay here. In case he comes home.’

Martin walked out of the living room. On the way past the phone in the hall he called Andy’s house. His mum answered.

‘Hi, it’s Martin Cooper. I was wondering whether James is with you?’

There was a long, awkward silence. He could almost hear her thinking, The poor man, worrying about his son. It’s no wonder, though.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I think Andy went to meet him. He said he’d be home soon. He’s normally quite punctual.’

‘OK. If he does show up, would you call?’

It was light outside, the summer sun still warm and high in the sky. He started the car and wound the window down, driving slowly so he could look at the pedestrians. He felt a sudden weakness in his legs at the memory of doing this three weeks ago, looking for Maggie.

He couldn’t believe it was happening again.

It was about a ten-minute drive to the cinema. By the time he got there he was in a full-on panic, heart racing, palms sweating. It was a struggle to stop himself coming to a dead stop in the middle of the road and screaming at the top of his voice. He parked directly outside – if he got a fine he’d just pay it, he didn’t care – and went inside.

There was a long queue for tickets. It snaked through a set of ropes; he ignored it and walked to the front, standing behind a middle-aged couple. He looked back at the people who were next in line.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Emergency.’

The man behind the counter tilted his head. ‘Yes?’ he said.

‘Have you seen two boys? About fourteen.’