Two weeks somewhere very remote. Scottish Highlands, in my camper van. I have used it in the past for this sort of thing. It is wonderful: an untraceable source of transport and accommodation.

I will use that time to figure out how best to solve this. I already have the bones of an idea. I can use the identity I have set up for Annabelle, so all I really need is an identity for myself.

By no means impossible.

So I will have to change the plan. But no matter.

I need to buy some time, though. I cannot have them showing up at my office in the morning to find I am not there. I need to delay them until the afternoon.

Then tomorrow morning we disappear, for good.

Wynne

Guy Sanderson was calling.

‘Wynne.’

‘DI Wynne? This Guy Sanderson.’

‘Mr Sanderson. How can I help you?’

‘Nothing urgent,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to ask if we could change the location of the test tomorrow. I checked my schedule and I have a couple of meetings in the morning. I’ll be leaving London early in the afternoon, so could we do the test at my lake house? Maybe around three or four? If it’s not convenient, I could make another arrangement.’

‘I think that can work,’ Wynne said. ‘What’s the address?’

When the call was over, she googled the address and looked at the house. A lawn ran down to a stand of trees by the lakeside. It was very isolated.

And there was something odd about Guy Sanderson. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she was looking forward to getting his DNA test and then sitting down to talk to him again.

Wednesday, 11 March 2020, 8 a.m.

Annabelle

She had spent most of the night awake, waiting for the sound of sirens, or a knock on the door and the voice of authority shouting, Are you in there? then someone kicking down the door and leading her from the room, past a handcuffed Guy.

Because her plan had to have worked.

In her wilder fantasies, Matt, Norman, Keith and Molly were there too, waiting for her to scoop them up in her arms and smother them with love and kisses.

Now, though, it was morning and nobody had come. She tried to think through what that meant; surely if the person in the boat had understood the message they would have contacted the police and the police would be here.

So they either hadn’t understood, or they didn’t think it was real.

Or maybe there was some other delay. That could be it: the police might not have it as a top priority, but rather something to look into when they got the chance. There could have been another event that was consuming their resources – a terrorist attack, or a shooting, or an outbreak of riots. She would have no idea; she was totally isolated from the outside world.