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events would have unfolded in a very different way, and perhaps the worst of them might have been avoided.
    The awful fact is, I wasn’t thinking straight. It may be that I was still half asleep, I don’t know. For whatever reason, it never even occurred to me that if it was indeed Emma who was in trouble, she hada household of adults around her to help. That one simple, obvious thought would have kept me in my room. I would have been very concerned, certainly, sleepless and even scared, but I wouldn’t have been running for the front door.
    However, the thought never entered my head. So that’s that.
    I ran downstairs, jammed on my school shoes and put my coat on over my dressing gown.
    Cold night air pinched at me as I stepped outside. Priory Mews was as motionless as the corpse in the park. There was no far-off rumble of traffic. No stars were visible in the sky, the clouds were hanging as low and thick as they had the previous day.
    I stood a few metres from my front door, watching, listening. I hugged my arms in tightly, but couldn’t stop shivering. I tried to breathe as quietly as I could, straining my ears to pick up something, anything that might give me a clue about what to do now. My breath clouded around my face.
    Gradually, my eyes were becoming accustomed to the dark. The outlines of my house, and of the Giffords’ and the Daltons’, were slowly filled in with grey-on-grey details. I could see the road surfacebeneath my shoes.
    Our neighbours’ homes were in complete darkness. Their sleep hadn’t been broken either.
    Taking delicate steps, I walked around to the side of our house, on to the grassy area beside our garden gate, heading for the Priory. I had to move slowly, even on the grass, because I still wasn’t sure of the exact layout.
    The large rear garden of Bierce Priory was surrounded by a very tall, black wrought-iron fence. At the side, a narrow padlocked gate led on to the steep hill overlooking the park, and the path down to the river.
    I stepped stealthily along by the railings. They were too closely placed for anyone to squeeze through, and too high to climb without help.
    I stood motionless again, shivering a little less as I acclimatized to the chill of the night. From there, I could just about make out the Priory’s looming shape. It rose up into the sky like jagged teeth.
    I watched and waited but heard nothing, saw nothing. I began to doubt myself again. Perhaps there was nothing to hear other than the sped-up beating of my own heart, and the throb of bloodthrough my ears. Then … I did hear something.
    A gasping sound. A sort of agonized panting. And a slight rustling, like feet tramping slowly through long grass.
    I felt as if my heart would stop. I reached out and gripped the freezing cold-railings with both hands. The sounds were definitely coming from the grounds of the Priory. Somewhere over to the left. They seemed to be moving away from the building. Towards me.
    I screwed up my face, willing my eyes to pick out something I could identify. The gasping sound was getting closer. It seemed almost like sobbing now, like pain and terror crushed down into exhaustion.
    Movement!
    I caught sight of a shape. Low, close to the ground, moving slowly towards the fence.
    Was it someone crawling? I gripped the bars tighter, pulling my face close to them. I couldn’t make sense of the shape for a moment.
    It was a dog. Quite a large one. Its head was bent, lolling forward.
    I suddenly let my breath go. Just a dog, for God’s sake, probably out for a late-night sniff around thegarden.
    But then, as I watched it, my heart seized up once more. As it moved closer I could see it was pulling itself along. Unsteadily, slowly, shaking with effort. At least one of its hind legs was dragging on the grass. The poor creature was obviously in dreadful pain.
    I was about to speak. I was about to crouch down, and put out my hand through the bars. Suddenly, I almost let out a gasp of shock, as the dog