‘For God’s sake! What more evidence do you people want? These are hard facts, those things you policemen are supposed to crave. No child was ever safe here. We should learn from history, Professor, but sadly, my husband didn’t listen hard enough, and now his sister’s child has joined the others.’

Once, when Will was a young constable, he had been present at the apprehending of a serial killer. He had been amazed at how ordinary this man appeared to be, how unassuming. He had talked lucidly to his captors, looking them in the eye and answering their questions quite candidly. He just lacked all emotion. He sensed that same lack of empathy in his wife.

Unintentionally, his own voice became cold. ‘Sophie is not dead.’

‘So, where is she?’ She stared at him, her gaze cold as a reptile.

Unable to meet her eyes, he looked away. ‘I don’t know.’

‘So how do you know she’s not dead?’

‘I don’t fucking know! I don’t know anything any more! I don’t even know who my wife is!’

Sam’s warning look was lost on Will. He took hold of her shoulders and shook her roughly. ‘You are seeing that bloody doctor tomorrow if I have to drag you there! And we’re leaving this detestable bog just as soon as I can get this dump on the market! Understand?’

Her face changed in an instant, assuming a look of pure hatred.

A strong hand pulled him away from Kate. ‘That’s enough, Will,’ said Matt softly. ‘Leave her now.’

Kate had fallen back on the bed, a flat, glassy expression replacing her earlier animation.

She turned slowly to Will, and in an empty, expressionless tone, said, ‘Whatever. I’ll see your precious doctor if you want. It really doesn’t matter one way or the other. If he’s so bloody good, he’ll realise I’m right, then we’ll see who looks the fool, won’t we? But I’m not leaving here. I’ll never leave here. You go if you want, but I’m staying. Understood?’

Will ran from the room.

He raced down the stairs and out of the house. Swifty and Debbie looked up in surprise as he dashed past them, out into the lane and into the reedy grass of the marsh.

He screamed her name, again and again. ‘Sophie! Sophie!’

Somewhere out over the wild moonlit landscape, an owl took up his call, an eerie cry that turned his blood to ice. Slowly, he lowered himself down on to the soft spongy ground.

His wife was right.

Sophie was as dead as his little sister and her husband.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE