‘No one forgot. That’s our daughter. My daughter,’ Nick said. ‘Anna’s just trying to find her. Where was the… where was it?’

‘It was Braille. She punched little holes in some stickers and put them on the handle of the kettle. Jane knew as soon as she picked it up. It was quite creative. No one but Jane would have had a clue. She wanted us to not worry, I think. Though Lord knows why she didn’t just tell us.’

‘You just answered the phone by trying to tell the police, that’s why.’ That line, although disclosing nothing, made the detectives cock their ears.

‘Nick, do you know where she is? If you do, you must tell the police.’

‘I don’t know.’ He could hear a car engine in the background. ‘Where are you?’

‘Just arriving back there. Jane called me about the message. My garage was burgled and I had to go check.’

‘Tell me about how Jane hurt her foot again?’

There was nothing wrong with Jane’s foot of course, and Nick hung up before Middleton could voice his puzzlement at a line meant mainly for the detectives to hear. Then, with the phone still clamped to his ear to make the detectives think he was listening to a story, he sent Anna’s father a text by feel alone:

Meet me at Sir Jack, Aston

Once sent, he deleted it, said goodbye to a dead line, and handed the phone back. He prayed Middleton wouldn’t call back or send a return text.

A little later, Miller signalled to leave the M1 and take the A630 east. Nick sat up. When the traffic slowed at the end of the slip road to join the Catcliffe roundabout, he threw his door open. No line about needing to urinate this time: he simply powered his legs and vanished into the trees.

He heard his name shouted, and then honking horns that suggested the detectives had blocked the road by exiting their car. But Miller was in heels, Bennet was too big and unstable, and their desire to catch him fell far short of his determination to find his wife.

HIKING COUPLE KILLED IN HIT-AND-RUN