‘Who the hell are you?’

The man and woman scuttled past and away. Before he went out again, he heard one of them, probably on a phone, asking for the police.

‘And that’s the last thing you remember?’ a voice said. He turned, seeking the source, but saw nothing. ‘Until the police found you stumbling along?’

It took him a moment to realise his mind had mixed some kind of present/past cocktail. The tall detective sergeant was standing close, looking very much like a guy awaiting an answer. Nick just nodded.

‘Nothing in between? All black from the moment you were knocked unconscious and drugged, until the point where you woke up in the garage?’

Nick knew his pause aroused suspicion. When he shook his head, eyes averted, he expected someone to challenge his memory. But nobody got the chance because the door bashed open.

Anna was in the doorway, red-faced from tears. He felt awful knowing that she’d been crying out there somewhere, doubtless about his attack on her father, while he recounted his hazy tale. He wanted to apologise, but kept his mouth clamped shut because it couldn’t be trusted while remnants of that damn horse drug still rampaged through his veins.

‘I want a moment alone with my husband,’ she said.

Nick expected refusal, but the DCI ordered her people out of the room. The doctor wasn’t her employee and Anna had to ask him. Twice. When they were alone, she sat close by him and the distress on her face made him realise something that had eluded his cloudy head: he hadn’t considered what had happened to her. They’d told him the basic facts of the night, but not what she’d been through; how she’d learned he and Josie were missing, or what turmoil she felt. Her night had probably been just as bad as his and they’d both suffered alone. He took her hand and knew he had to risk words.

But she didn’t answer his question of what had happened. Instead, she said, ‘About my dad…’

He squeezed her hand harder. ‘I’m sorry about saying your dad was to blame. I’m just… messed up.’

‘Maybe not.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Father has already said he’ll put up the money. Maybe that was the plan.’

Now he understood why she’d fled the room. His claim had struck a nerve. Understandably, because they didn’t have anything close to £50,000 and her father did. So his claim didn’t provoke any ideas other people hadn’t already had. But he tried to backtrack:

‘Maybe it was our house. It’s a nice bungalow. Maybe someone came along and saw Josie playing in the garden and figured we had money. They wouldn’t know the house was a gift. Josie might not have been taken because of your dad. Just a random thing.’