But there was a flaw in the plan. It would be easy enough for the police – she hoped Matt had called them – to track her car as it exited the motorway – there were cameras everywhere – and so they would know where it went.

Say, into a car park.

And if they’re smart, Annabelle thought. They’ll see this van leave the same car park and wonder who was in it.

It was a slim hope, but it was hope nonetheless, and, for a moment she felt better.

She rested her head against the side of the van. Her shoulder pulsed with pain.

Suddenly, the hope vanished. Her chest tightened and she was overwhelmed by panic. Adrenaline flooded her muscles and she felt a surge of strength. For a moment she was sure she could break free of the straps, then she could open the hatch and reach through and throttle the kidnapper, or open the door and leap out when the van was stationary.

She clenched her fists and strained against the straps.

They did not move. Of course they didn’t. The idea she would have a sudden access of strength that would snap them was foolish. This wasn’t a movie.

This was real. This was actually happening.

The panic gripped harder. She had no control, no options, and her children were gone. And she still had no answer to the question: why do all this? Why not just grab her off the street? And why her?

There had to be a reason, and that was what frightened her the most. There was something huge behind all this.

A scream rose in her throat, and, once it started, she could not stop it.

Wynne

Detective Inspector Jane Wynne took the call in her kitchen. She had just put two glasses next to a bottle of Italian red wine – she had no idea what it was but it had cost £15 so she hoped it was good, since her guest had mentioned she was a wine drinker – and was peeling an onion to start making her signature spaghetti bolognese, when her phone rang.

She knew the number. It was Detective Sergeant Michael Dudek, newly promoted and her partner for the last six months.

She glanced at the time. It was nearly 6 p.m.

She didn’t want to answer it. She knew what it meant. It meant the red wine would go undrunk and the spaghetti uneaten.

But she had to. That was the job. Not for the first time she wondered whether it was worth it.

She answered the call.

‘Dudek,’ she said. ‘How wonderful to hear from you.’

‘Right,’ Dudek said. ‘Sorry to bother you, boss. But I thought you’d want to hear this.’

‘What is it?’

‘It’s pretty unusual,’ Dudek said. ‘I’ve never come across anything quite like it.’

That was not something cops often said. Wynne felt a rising curiosity.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘Sounds intriguing. Tell me more.’