She hastily pushed Sammy through the front door, pulled the heavy door closed and turned to face Marty. Tears on her cheeks.

‘I’m so sorry, Marty. I didn’t know.’ She shook her head gently. ‘Sammy just told me then.’

‘What?’

‘He said Brendan Parrish took Bella. Sammy saw the teacher at the gate that morning.’

Oh God, no. Marty swallowed, forcing the bile back down his throat. His worst fears were confirmed. The teacher had drugged his Bella Ballerina and taken her to the party house in Ainslie.

‘Let me inside the house to call Caruso.’ Marty tried to push past her. ‘You must have a landline.’

‘No, we’ve haven’t—but there is phone reception in the chapel.’ Mel took his arm and pulled him away from the house, towards a garden path. ‘We’ll call the police from there. It’ll be quicker.’

God help him if that bastard had harmed Bella.

‘Why didn’t Sammy say something before?’

‘Mr Parrish threatened him with death. My poor boy has been petrified. I should have realised that something was wrong …’

The acrid taste burnt in his throat. Classic paedophile behaviour—terrorising a child into silence. Brendan Parrish. Blond hair, goofy grin, cheery manner. A guileless smile to put the kids at ease. To make them trust him. Marty had known it all along and no-one had believed him. What has that fucker done to my daughter?

Mel was hurrying him past scraggly roses and hedges, around a dried-out pond. She pointed to a stone chapel at the end of the path. It looked like a shape that Bella would draw—a box with a triangle on top. One window, one door and a tiny cross at the highest point. A portico at the front, offering a tiny covering from the weather. Next to the chapel sat a small graveyard, the weathered tombstones cracked and listing to one side. The wind rattled the chapel’s roof and stirred up dead leaves around the graves.

Marty had his phone out of his pocket, staring at the screen. Still no reception. Mel took a large brass key from a peg in the portico and unlocked the chapel. She swung the huge wooden door open.

‘The only place where the phone will work is right in the middle,’ she said, giving him a little nudge on the shoulder.

As he stepped forward, Marty heard the door creaking and turned to see Mel closing it from the outside. Rushing at the door, he managed to grasp the edge and hold it.

‘What are you doing?’ he demanded. ‘You’ll need to talk to the police too. Tell them what Sammy said.’

Her face had changed now. Hard. Hating. Suddenly, he couldn’t recognise the kind-hearted Elissa who volunteered in the hospital every Monday. The one who had helped him regain his self-confidence after the inquiry and the accusations.