She was dying to ask him about their daughter, but was terrified he wouldn’t know anything, or wouldn’t remember because of his cloudy brain. Until she got that terrible news, she could believe she was moments from discovering where Josie was.

So she stayed silent and he went first. As soon as he saw her, he moaned, ‘Oh… Josie… where…’ But his head seemed to spin and he looked ready to throw up. That word pinned her soul: where. He didn’t know where Josie was. She slammed the lid on a wail and put her hand on his hot forehead. Strangely, everything else got swept aside for a second as she realised it was their first intentional flesh-on-flesh touch in over a week.

But only a second: ‘Do you know where she is?’ she pleaded. ‘What happened, Nick? Where is Josie? Please.’

He looked at the police officers standing nearby and shook his head. She knew then that she’d only been allowed access to Nick because their own efforts to get him to talk had failed. She was their next hope, now gone.

His eyes closed and he lay back. But they snapped open a moment later when the door flew open. It was Bennet, who must have slipped out while she was distracted.

‘Mrs Carter, with me, quick.’ He mouthed something at Miller.

Anna turned back to Nick, whose eyes looked clear, but scared. ‘What’s… Anna, what’s going on?’

Before she could react, Miller had her arm. ‘Quickly.’

Anna was marched out of the room and down a corridor on legs that wanted to fail. She knew something bad was afoot but couldn’t find the voice to ask what. But when she saw a uniformed officer standing in a doorway ahead, clearly awaiting her, she knew, just knew.

‘It’s him, isn’t it?’

She was jerked into the room, hands on her back, and pushed into a seat before a desk loaded with paperwork and two computers. And a phone that was ringing. Her mind was spinning.

‘We’ve asked for the call to be lobbed up here from reception,’ Miller said, her grip on Anna’s arm now soft, like a friend’s.

A call for her. Her fears had been correct. ‘It’s him, isn’t it?’

Miller slapped her hand on to the ringing phone, but didn’t pick it up.

‘The call will be on speakerphone. You can do this, dear. You’re strong. Ask to speak to Josie this time. Use silences so we can determine background noises.’ There was more, the usual stuff she’d been told before. Now it was undeniable.

Somehow, the kidnapper knew she was here and had called the hospital, not the mobile in her pocket, to speak to her.

‘Right now, in rooms close to you, are people with renal failure. It’s £17,000 for a kidney transplant and £5,000 a year for immune-suppression treatment.’