Ann Craig swooned and began to fall. Baxter caught her just before she hit the ground. ‘Come away home, Mrs Craig, there’s nothing more to be done tonight.’

CHAPTER 4

Chapter 4

2015

‘Why am I going to see Mrs C with my pyjamas on?’

‘She’s going to look after you for the morning, I’ve some things to do.’ As they walked across the street to the hotel, Fiona tapped his number on her phone again. It was still switched off.

‘Mum, I want to show Mrs C my picture of Peter Pan.’

‘No time to go home, Jamie. She’ll give you paper and you can draw her another one.’

‘Okay, she’s got new colouring pencils in her desk.’ He skipped across the road and they headed for the hotel entrance.

‘Fiona, any idea what’s happened to—’

‘Let’s discuss it in a minute, Doug,’ she snapped at the rotund man standing by the door, pointing down at Jamie.

She marched towards the office. ‘Here he is, Mrs C,’ she said, forcing a smile.

‘Come away in, wee man. Let’s get you settled. My, is it a sleepover you’re here for?’ She laughed and pointed at his pyjamas.

‘Mum said there was no time to change.’

‘Mrs C, would you mind taking him over the road for his clothes, but no rush, whenever you’ve time.’ She dropped a key onto the desk, leant down to kiss the top of Jamie’s head then turned back to face Doug, who was pointing at his watch.

‘Where is he, Fiona? He was due in over an hour ago and his car’s gone. He’s never been late and we’re fully booked tonight.’

‘Honestly, I have no idea. I need to go off to try a couple of places. Please bear with me, I’ll let you know.’ Fiona looked out the window as a white van passed and parked across the road outside the village shop. ‘Doug, the paper van’s here, you know the review’s in today?’

Doug smiled. ‘I had no idea,’ he said, patting his trouser pockets to check he had some change. ‘I’ll go and get a copy. Will I pop one through your door in case she runs out?’

‘Thanks, Doug,’ Fiona said. ‘Back soon.’

* * *

She drove south much faster than the speed limit. God, she looked rough, she thought, glancing in the rear-view mirror at her messy, fair hair and sallow skin. She ought to have at least taken a minute to brush on some blusher; she looked like death.

During the hour-long journey she ran through every possible scenario of what might have happened, where he might have gone, but her thoughts kept returning to the same thing. She turned into Dundee airport, parked at the far end of the short term car park and ran into the terminal, rushing over to the City Flyer check-in desk.