moving so slowly. Talking isn’t going to find Mabel. We need boots on the ground; the whole country should be out there looking for her. We need action!’
Amber leaves George sitting on the bed, head in hands. She rushes downstairs and puts on her coat. Sally is already waiting for her.
‘Right. Stay close to me. Keep your head down, don’t respond to anything anyone says, not even with a look, okay? Neutral expression. Don’t give them anything they can use.’
‘If they see me getting into a police car, they’ll think I’m being arrested.’
‘Don’t worry, we’ll make it clear you’re not.’
Amber hesitates. ‘I’m not sure I can do this. Can’t DI Benedict come here instead?’
‘Not for this conversation,’ Sally replies, grasping the door handle. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
Sally steps out and Amber falls in behind her. There are camera flashes and shouts from every corner as they walk the few metres to the waiting car. A uniformed officer has the rear passenger door already open. He guides Amber onto the back seat. Sally slides in next to her. Then the officer shuts the doors, gets in next to the driver and the car speeds off down the hill.
Not for this conversation, Amber repeats silently. The police have worked it out, she thinks. They know she’s been lying. Her stomach roils with fear. She can’t do this. When the car stops at a traffic light, she wants to leap out and run away.
The journey takes twenty minutes. As they reach the station, they’re met with another crowd of reporters and photographers. Amber slithers down in her seat and puts her hand against the side of her face.
‘Drop us off at the back entrance, please,’ says Sally.
This is the beginning of the end, thinks Amber. I’ve lost my daughter, and by tonight, my marriage will be in tatters.
DI Benedict is waiting for her. She’s hurried up the back steps and ushered into the family room, a calm, neutral space normally reserved for giving people bad news. The detective orders coffee and they sit down in tub chairs, facing each other.
‘Thanks for coming in,’ he says. ‘I thought you’d prefer the privacy.’
‘Yes,’ she replies, feeling as if she’s descending at speed in an elevator.
Benedict fixes her with a blue-eyed gaze. ‘I’m going to come straight to it,’ he says. ‘We have a rapidly developing case here shooting off in a number of directions and I need to know exactly where to prioritise our investigation. It’s really important, for Mabel’s sake, that you don’t waste my time, do you understand?’ She nods. ‘Good … So, on Sunday, when you spoke to the family liaison officer, she asked you if your husband, George Walker, was Mabel’s biological father.’
Amber twists her fingers together. ‘Yes, she did, and I answered to the best of my knowledge.’
‘To the best of your knowledge?’ he repeats. ‘Sally reported that you were adamant. In fact, you were very offended at any suggestion that he might not be Mabel’s father.’
‘Was I? I don’t remember, I was very stressed …’ Her cheeks burn with shame. She wants to sink into the tub chair and disappear.
‘It may not come as any surprise to you, then, that our DNA results show that your husband is not Mabel’s father – biologically speaking.’
She hangs her head. ‘I didn’t know for sure. I hoped …’ Tears well in her throat. ‘I knew you’d find out. I thought if George was the father, then I wouldn’t need to say anything.’
‘I see.’
‘Things were bad enough without making it worse.’
DI Benedict pauses to breathe slowly in and out. ‘Sally explained that in these cases, the abductor often turns out to be the biological father, or someone who believes they are the father. And yet you didn’t mention it.’ He pauses. ‘I find that extraordinary.’
‘I didn’t say anything because I know he didn’t do it.’
‘I see. And what makes you so sure? Were you with this man on Saturday night?’
She squirms. ‘Please, you have to trust me on this. I know he has nothing to do with it. Sonya, that’s who you should be looking for; focus on Sonya.’
‘Don’t worry, we’re exploring every possible scenario, including Sonya Garrick,’ Benedict assures her. ‘But I think we should check out this chap’s alibi, don’t you? Just to be sure.’
She shakes her head. ‘There’s really no need.’
‘You seem very reluctant to give me his name.’
Tears roll down her cheeks. ‘Please, I beg you, don’t do this. You’ll destroy us.’
Benedict plucks a tissue from the box on