‘I’ll let the negotiator know. He’ll need to keep Jordan as calm as he can until the car gets here.’ This could mean at least another thirty minutes, and they didn’t yet know if the foster father and Christopher would agree.

Marie returned to squatting in the boy’s sight. The next twenty-five minutes seemed to stretch on for ever. Thank heavens for the negotiator, who heroically managed to keep Jordan together until the car arrived. She saw Jackman race towards it and speak urgently to the man accompanying Christopher.

The lad stood silently beside the police car. So this was Christopher. Teddy.

He looked like a miniature version of his father — stick thin. And pale — his face, his hair and his eyes, especially his eyes. His pallor was accentuated by the white T-shirt and faded stonewashed denim jacket, jeans and white trainers.

Jackman nodded towards the negotiator, who told Jordan that DI Jackman had some very important news for him, something he really needed to hear. He stepped away and Jackman approached the car, speaking slowly and clearly.

‘Jordan, I want you to listen carefully. You have been very unfairly treated and lied to, simply to hurt you. But now you need to hear the truth, and I will prove this to you in a moment.’

Jordan moved his head slowly from side to side. Marie heard him say, ‘Not listening. Not listening.’ Davy flinched as his grip on the boy tightened.

‘Jordan Spiller!’ Jackman raised his voice. ‘Your Christopher is not dead! He never died alone in a car crash! Your wife wanted to hurt you, so she lied to you.’

‘Oh no, my son’s here with me. You’re wrong, you’re wrong.’ The voice scared Marie. It had the high, sing-song quality of insanity.

‘I’m not your son!’ wailed Davy. ‘I’m Davy Frances! Let me go!’

‘Shh, my boy, hush now.’

Then, without warning, Christopher broke free of his foster father’s hold and ran towards the car. Jackman went to stop him, then held back.

‘Dad?’

Silence fell.

‘Dad?’ he repeated.

A low keening came from the car. ‘Noooo! You’re not my Christopher! You can’t be Teddy!’

‘Dad. It’s me.’ Then he took something from under his jacket.

It was a battered teddy bear. He held it towards his father like an offering.

Jordan Spiller did not move.

Marie held her breath.

Spiller let go of Davy, unlocked the car and stepped out. ‘Son?’

At once, Marie wrenched the passenger door open and pulled Davy towards her. She held him tightly to her for a moment, then ushered him away to safety. When she next looked back, Spiller was in handcuffs and staring at his boy. Then he said, ‘I always loved you, son.’

‘I know, Dad,’ Christopher said.