The call was brief. ‘Sam said he was sure he would if he could, but Hassel’s severely disabled. He’s in a wheelchair, and he never leaves the clinic.’ He hung his head. ‘And Sam said exactly what you did — not to cancel that appointment. He also said he’s coming over in case he’s needed.’ He swallowed hard. ‘Which means that when she wakes up, I have to break it to her that I have arranged for her to speak to a psychiatrist. After all I promised her. I feel like a traitor, Matt.’

‘It’s gone way beyond that now, Will.’

Kate gave a little moan, and Will gently coaxed her into sipping at her drink. Her expression was distant, vacant. As if in a dream, she drank the tea, seeming to be completely unaware of Matt’s presence in the room. ‘I’m so tired,’ she whispered.

‘I’ll get you to bed, my darling.’ Will gathered her up in his arms. Matt could see from the way he carried her that she weighed next to nothing.

As Will was putting Kate to bed, Liz arrived. Matt hugged her, muttering, ‘God, this is such a mess.’ He told her what had happened.

Liz finally released herself from his arms. ‘Mattie! That’s dreadful. That poor little girl! And Kate?’

He raised his hands. ‘God alone knows. The only good piece of news is that Will has an appointment tomorrow morning for her to see a specialist.’

‘If she agrees to go,’ said Liz dubiously.

‘She’ll go, one way or the other. You didn’t see her, darling. She was . . .’

‘I get the picture, Mattie.’

‘At least Sam Page is on his way over. I’ll feel a whole lot better knowing that a proper healthcare professional is with her. We are so out of our depth. And Will doesn’t know which way is up any more.’ Matt sighed.

‘Then stick with him.’ Liz squeezed his arm. ‘He’s lucky to have such a good friend.’

‘I feel like a fucking chocolate poker,’ he said. ‘What on earth do you say to a man whose wife is on the brink of losing her mind, and whose sister and brother-in-law just died, and now his little niece is lost and possibly abducted?’

‘Nothing, Matt. Just be there for him, that’s what he needs now. He needs to know he’s not alone.’

* * *

By nightfall, Will was distraught. He knew that at the hotel, Philip Fauve was pacing the foyer, his eyes glued to the front doors.

Local radio and television carried news flashes showing a photo of the pretty, dark-haired child, and the chief superintendent made an impassioned plea for anyone who knew anything to come forward.