Arthur blinked at her accusingly. Maybe he was the culprit. He had been restless last night. Even in her sleep she had felt him move, grumble to himself and even hiss at one point. She wondered if cats had bad dreams.

Then she heard it. A rhythmic banging, coming from downstairs.

It was no good, she had to go and see what it was. There was no one to send anymore. She put on her dressing gown and crept downstairs. The noise was coming from the kitchen. She wondered if she had put the washing machine on and frowned. She seemed to be getting very forgetful these days.

As she opened the kitchen door to see, the cold air hit her. Not the washing machine but the back door, wide open and banging against the outside wall.

Natalie stood in the doorway and stared. How could that be? She had definitely made sure the door was locked before she went up to bed. She even pictured herself turning the key, and then checking the handle. So, why . . . ?

She edged into the kitchen and found it empty. She flung open the pantry door and jumped back, but it was empty too. Where was the person who had opened the door? Out? Fled into the night? Or still inside?

Natalie swallowed hard. Her mobile phone was still there on the counter, charging up. She grabbed it, ran outside into the garden and dialled 999.

* * *

Marie and Gary got to the village of Old Fleet within twenty minutes of receiving the call. They soon found Crosswinds, the bungalow they’d been called to, and parked outside.

‘That’ll teach us, won’t it?’ Marie said. ‘Remind me not to tell Uniform to alert us to these calls in future.’

‘Well, think of it this way, at least we are in at the beginning.’ Gary released his seat belt. ‘And that must be Mrs Miles.’

They both looked at the woman waiting at the gate, a dressing gown held close around her.

They introduced themselves. She looked slightly surprised when they said they were with CID but she didn’t question it. She told them she was waiting outside because she’d been too frightened to stay inside the house.

Gently, Gary took her arm. ‘Don’t you worry, Mrs Miles, we’ll check the house right through. Come and sit in the kitchen, you look frozen.’

‘I can’t stop shivering. I don’t understand how he got in. I shut all the windows before I went to bed and locked the doors.’

Gary drew out a kitchen chair for her. ‘You sit there. We’ll take a look around and then tell you what we think, okay?’

They removed themselves to the hall. ‘He’ll be long gone,’ Marie whispered.

‘Oh yes,’ said Gary, ‘and most likely with a child’s photograph clutched in his sticky little mitt.’