He’s met somebody else and abandoned me.

That was always the biggest worry, and never far from her thoughts.

Just before seven o’clock, and now feeling decidedly anxious, she walked up to the business class check-in clerk. ‘My fiancé has our passports and booked the tickets, I just want to check my big suitcase in to save some time.’

The woman smiled and said, ‘What name is it please?’

‘His name is Kyle Halliday.’

She worked the terminal and looked puzzled. She asked Vanessa to spell the name, and after another minute said. ‘Hmm. No booking in that name. Can I have your name?’

‘It’s all right,’ she said hurriedly. ‘He’ll probably be here in a minute.’ She realised that the police might be looking for her too, and using her own name would be stupid. Kyle had arranged the passports, and of course they would have to be false names. Hers too. Silly not to realise that.

For half an hour she wandered around the terminal, looking at the other check-in desks, peering into shops, but always with a view of the approach routes to the Thai Airways desk. The economy passengers queued up and were gradually dealt with, luggage checked in, boarding passes dispensed, all ready to pass through security. The check-in area gradually emptied out, just the odd passenger now hurrying in to business class. But no sign of Kyle. At eight o’clock, with still no sign of him, she began to cry. A few people came up to her and asked her if they could help, but each time she shook her head.

Vanessa kept telling herself that she had to be brave. What he had asked her to do was very little compared to all of the work he had done. At five past eight, having tried to ring him and text him another dozen times, she went back to the business class check-in. The clerk double-checked for a Halliday booking, and then shook her head. ‘I’m really sorry. All of our business class passengers are already checked in,’ she said.

Vanessa twisted her ring desperately. ‘He might have left a ticket for me,’ she sobbed. ‘I’m Vanessa Perry, Mrs Halliday-to-be.’

An immediate look of pity crossed the kindly face of the check-in lady. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘Let me check again, perhaps the tickets are for seats in economy.’ As she worked the keyboard, her expression subtly changed, a crease of concern in her brow. ‘Just one moment, please,’ she said, and picked up a phone, and stared over Vanessa’s shoulder. She spoke quietly to someone and then said, ‘Okay, that’s fine. No, she’s right in front of me.’

‘Is everything all right?’

‘Yes, everything is just fine.’ The smile this time was more formal, colder. Vanessa looked over her shoulder, and saw two uniformed security men approaching her.

‘Vanessa Perry?’ asked one.

‘Yes?’

‘Everybody has been very worried about you.’

‘Why?’

‘I think you need to come with us.’

Detective Inspector John Perry got two calls in quick succession. The first was to tell him his wife had rung 999 to announce that she had killed the man who had abducted their daughter. The second was while Gillard was driving him to that crime scene in Wiltshire. It was Greater Manchester Police, with news that Vanessa had been found safe and well at Manchester Airport. For a good half hour after that, Perry had sat with his eyes closed, breathing deeply. Gillard left him to it.