It was a weekly routine: Sundays, after dinner, Father would take Josie to see her grandmother’s grave, because she had constantly asked where “Grandy” was since that day she just wasn’t awaiting her at the front door. Anna tried to picture two people at opposite ends of the age spectrum sitting together on grass – but the calming image eroded as Jane jumped to her feet.

‘Nick?’

‘What’s wrong?’ Anna rose, too, shaky.

‘Didn’t you hear that? Someone said Nick’s just been arrested.’

Four

‘You can’t leave.’

The young pregnant DC, Hicks, had her hand raised, palm out, a clear and universal gesture. Anna wanted to return with an equally recognisable obscene one. But instead she said: ‘That’s my husband and my daughter.’

‘I understand, but the kidnappers might call. You have to—’

‘Got it,’ Anna said, holding up her mobile. ‘And now I’m going.’

The dark was beginning to diffuse from the sky and a couple of lights were on in houses across the way. To her right, a bedroom curtain moved. She didn’t care and ran down the path, heart thudding. At Miller’s car, Bennet had one long leg into the passenger side when he spotted her, and he showed her he was as versed as his DC in hand signals.

But she barely got a word into her assertion that they would not be leaving her here: she heard Miller, already in the car, say it was okay, and he jerked a thumb at the back seat. She climbed inside and once the car was on the move, before she could ask the question she’d been desperate to, Bennet said, ‘A couple reported a drunk man acting suspicious on a road near Meadowhall—’

‘Nick?’ she cut in. He liked to have a little drink each night, which she constantly complained about, but he hadn’t been drunk for a long time. ‘He wouldn’t get drunk. Not… he’s working tomorrow.’

Bennet continued as if she hadn’t even spoken. ‘Two officers arrived and arrested him for breaking into a lock-up garage. He’s at the Sheffield Custody Suite, about three miles east of here. They ran his name and discovered he was wanted. He was found staggering around, dirty, incoherent—’

‘What do you mean, incoherent? There’s no way he would be drunk. He never drinks that much. And not with Josie. It can’t be him. No. It’s not Nick.’ Her elevating hopes that her loved ones had been rescued began to sink.

She looked at the rear-view mirror, seeking help from Miller, who met her glass gaze and offered it. But not the kind she wanted. ‘Your man’s fingerprints are on file because of a drink-driving offence. It’s him, dear. No mistake. And, look, we’re sorry for trying to do this without you.’