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be said for me. Even though I’d had a pull-out bed next to hers, I’d barely slept a wink. Every time I heard footsteps along the corridor, I held my breath, wondering if it was Sheila, come to spirit Immy away. The few times I dozed off, I was plunged into the same nightmare in which I was running from an enemy I couldn’t see.

Sam phoned while Immy was having breakfast. She got straight to the point.

‘Sheila’s car pinged ANPR in Canterbury earlier.’

I sat up straight. ‘You’ve caught her?’

Silence for a beat. ‘Not yet. But the net’s closing in. We’ve had a dozen potential sightings. It’s only a matter of time.’

‘You’re telling me she’s in Canterbury? How do you know she hasn’t come back for Immy?’

Sam’s voice was reassuring. ‘I’m sure she hasn’t.’

I thumped my hand against my forehead. ‘Why am I the only person who can see how dangerous she is?’

‘She’s wanted for murder, Cleo. We know she’s dangerous. And we’ll find her. In the meantime, Stuart’s had the lock on the side gate replaced and I’ve arranged to have a panic alarm fitted at your house this afternoon. If you press the button, we’ll be there. All you need to do is sit tight at home until we find her. Can you do that?’

I slumped against the wall. ‘Do I have a choice?’

Chapter Fifty-One

SATURDAY 19 JUNE

Immy chattered non-stop all the way home from hospital. Normally I’d have nodded and smiled in all the right places while my mind was at work, untangling a knotty problem with a supply chain or planning our next marketing campaign. But today I gave her my undivided attention because every word that escaped her lips was as precious as liquid gold.

Soon we were driving over the humpback bridge into King Street. I was surprised to see the wrought-iron fence in front of the house festooned with yellow balloons.

‘Who -?’ I began.

‘Mel,’ Stuart said. ‘She and Nate popped to Sainsbury’s on their way over. They’ve bought a cake, too. To welcome Immy home.’

‘Cake?’ Immy said.

I turned around in my seat and smiled. ‘Auntie Mel has thought of everything.’

For once, my voice wasn’t dripping with sarcasm. I was genuinely touched that Melanie was thinking of Immy, even though she must still be reeling from the shock of Bill’s death.

As if reading my mind, Stuart said, ‘I think she’s been grateful for the distraction.’

I undid Immy’s car seat, and she flew up the path to the front door. It swung open before she knocked, and Nate charged out like a hurricane. There was a faint trace of chocolate around his mouth.

‘Immy!’ he cried. ‘We got you a chocolate cake with chocolate fingers and sprinkles and everything! I tested a chocolate finger first to see if they were all right, then I had another one to make sure. But there are plenty left for you.’

‘Thanks for doing this,’ I said to Melanie. ‘And for looking after Nate. I really appreciate it.’ I looked at her closely. Her face was wan, and her eyes were puffy. ‘How are you doing?’

‘Not great,’ she admitted. ‘But I’ll be all right. There’s so much to do, but I can’t face any of it yet.’

‘Let us know if we can help with anything.’ I touched her arm and smiled. ‘I mean it.’

We took a pot of coffee and the cake into the garden.

‘Might as well make the most of the weather. It’s supposed to rain for the rest of the week,’ Stuart said. He cut the cake and handed us each a slice. The children crammed theirs into their mouths as if they hadn’t eaten for weeks, then disappeared into the garden.

I jumped up. ‘I should check the gates.’

‘Relax,’ Stuart said. ‘I double checked them earlier. They’re all fine.’

‘Why double check when you can triple check?’ I said lightly. I skirted the back of the house to check the side gate first. It opened with a click and I stepped onto the pavement and peered up and down the street, which looked strangely empty without the patrol cars and the search teams. On the other side of the road, one of the missing posters I’d stuck to a lamppost flapped in the breeze. Waiting for a dusty white van to pass, I crossed the road and ripped the poster down. Scrunching it into a ball in my fist felt vaguely satisfying. The dozens of other posters dotted around Fordwich could wait until tomorrow.

I was halfway across the road when the gate blew shut. I swore under my breath and went over to inspect the shiny new keypad that Stuart had had fitted. I tried 1218, Nate and Immy’s birthdays, but Stuart must have changed the code, too. Feeling silly, I phoned him.

‘I’ve locked myself out of the side gate. What’s the new number?’

‘Five-eight-six-four,’ he said.

‘Those aren’t anyone’s birthdays,’ I said, stabbing the code in and pushing the gate open.

‘They’re completely random numbers. I thought it was safer,’ he said. I raised an eyebrow. He must be more worried than he was letting on.

‘Good call. I’ll check the water gates and I’ll be back for a second slice of that cake.’ I wandered through the kitchen garden to the den and stuck my head through the door. Nate and Immy had a Matchbox car each and were making tracks in the dusty earth. Immy looked up, beaming.

‘Nate’s playing Paw ’trol, Mummy.’

‘That’s lovely, sweetheart.’ It was bliss to see them so happy in each other’s company, even though I knew it was only a matter of time before the novelty wore off and the bickering began again.

I crossed the lawn, picking up a couple of abandoned croquet hoops on the way. The scent of the mock orange on the far wall was stronger than ever, and as I tried the handle on the water gate, my head was filled with memories of Sunday afternoon. The anxious knot that had taken up residence in my chest writhed, and my heart raced, even though

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