‘Wait, Murphy,’ said Con, running to catch up. He could hear Sarge’s great, booming barks.

Murphy didn’t knock, he just pushed the door open. ‘Monica? Are you in here?’ he roared.

‘You can’t just walk into someone’s house,’ said Con. Then he froze.

A glass vase lay shattered on the tiles, tulips in a puddle of water, and Monica on the floor in the middle of it all. Her hands were bound in front of her with a cable tie and her mouth gagged with a tea towel. Her face was bleeding and her amber eyes were wide and wild.

‘Monica!’ shouted Con, falling to his knees beside her and unknotting the gag. Her bound wrists were already bruising and her arms scraped against the shards of the vase.

‘She’s taken Wren!’ she screamed the moment he had the gag out.

‘Easy,’ said Con. ‘Murphy, grab a knife from the kitchen.’

‘Eliza came here and attacked me,’ said Monica. ‘She took Wren. She said they have a boat waiting for them in Launceston!’

Murphy returned with the knife and broke the cable ties.

Monica was lapsing into hysterics: it was hard to make out her words. ‘Eliza . . . Tom and Eliza . . . Eliza can’t have kids, so wanted Wren and now she’s . . . gone.’ She rose shakily to her feet, grasping at the hooks on the wall where the keys hung, searching for balance. She held her stomach and vomited onto the tiles.

‘Murphy, give me your phone,’ said Con. He typed in a number and a moment later the commander answered. As quickly as he could, he explained everything that had transpired since he had called Marcus Wilkins. ‘We believe Eliza may be headed towards Launceston with Wren.’

‘I’ll make the calls,’ said Agatha. ‘You stay there. I’ll call you right back on this number. Don’t think this gets you off the hook for disobeying my direct order.’

She ended the call and Con relayed the information to both Murphy and Monica. ‘Do you need us to take you to hospital?’ said Con.

‘No, it’s fine,’ said Monica shakily. She touched her face, grimacing at the pain. ‘I . . . I think I should just stay here. I have a friend who’s a doctor. I’ll call her around.’

‘Okay, great idea,’ said Con. He put his concern about Monica into the box labelled People Who I Don’t Need To Worry About Right Now and focused his mental energy on the immediate issue: Eliza had kidnapped her niece and was fleeing.

Monica lurched, again holding her stomach. ‘I’ll go lie down in my room and call her.’ She wandered off upstairs, shivering.

Outside, Sarge kept barking, working himself into a frenzy.

‘I need a drink,’ said Murphy. ‘Do you want a drink?’