She was gagged and bound in the back of a car with a man – one of her oldest friends – who was intent on killing her and who seemed to have no concern whatsoever about getting caught. She had no idea what his plan was but he clearly thought he could disappear without trace, and he was probably right. She had no idea what he had set up, but it doubtless included a new identity, money and whatever else he needed.

And she was the last obstacle.

She wanted to say, Leave me here, you don’t need to kill me, but even if she could have taken out the gag she knew there was no point. He was not going to change his mind. She had seen it in his eyes.

He was enjoying this. He was having fun.

As the car moved off, she closed her eyes and tried to curl up – the little she could – into the foetal position. A bolt of pain shot through her shoulder.

This was it. This was how her life ended.

Wynne

1

Her phone rang. She did not recognize the number.

‘Wynne.’

‘This is PC Jim Travis,’ a male voice said. ‘We think we may have seen your suspect.’

She sat up in the chair. She had been looking out of the window, turning over Annabelle Westbrook’s case in her mind, looking for an angle that might give her an insight into her next step.

‘Where?’ she said.

‘One of our cars passed a silver Audi parked in a lay-by outside Bexhill.’

She opened Google Maps on her computer and looked for Bexhill. It was on the south coast.

‘Did they stop?’ she said.

‘No. They hadn’t got the alert. When it came through they remembered the car and called it in.’

‘They need to get back there, now,’ Wynne said.

‘They’re on the way,’ the PC said. ‘Should be there in minutes.’

Wynne looked at the map. ‘Which direction were they going in?’

‘Eastbourne,’ he said. ‘They were heading that way.’

‘Call me as soon as you hear anything,’ Wynne said.

2

Wynne traced the road along the south coast with her finger until it reached Eastbourne. Was it them? A silver Audi in a lay-by? There must have been thousands of silver Audis in the country, some of them parked in lay-bys.

But not all of them were within striking distance of Guy Sanderson’s house.

So it was possible Guy Sanderson was taking her to Eastbourne. But why? Probably not a day out at the seaside. Perhaps he had a boat there and was planning to flee to the continent.

Probably not that, either. It was too easy to trace, but she would make sure all the marinas and harbourmasters were alerted to look for a private boat leaving the Eastbourne area in the next few hours.

It might make sense to do that nationwide.