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missing for eight hours. Just four more until the police would become involved.
Let it be over by then. Bring her home now
.
    By four-thirty Bridget’s body was exhausted but her brain was still running the same thought:
Just wait until it’s morning. Everything will be okay, it’s always better when it’s light
.
    The second hand on her wristwatch kept moving, and slowly the time was spent.
    At ten to seven she heard movement upstairs, the shower being run, and Achim eventually appeared, his hair wet from a quick shower. He looked exhausted.
    “Did you manage to get any sleep, Achim?”
    He shook his head. “You?”
    “I’ve been sat here by the window all night. Waiting for her to come home.”
    He frowned, his mouth twitched and she willed him to say something comforting, something that would make all of this feel different, better somehow.
    “Coffee?”
    She nodded, thinking how strange it was, that if someone peered in the window right now it could almost look like a normal day. Then she saw that he was wearing his work jacket.
    “You’re not going in to the office?”
    Achim shook his head, looking angry again. “Of course not. I’m going to the police station, to make sure they do something. I thought it would be better to go in person, and I don’t think it hurts if I look professional.”
    Achim was a senior partner with his bank, he was used to being listened to.
    “Don’t leave me with this,” she begged, panicking. “Ellie will be home soon, I know she will. Please just wait here with me. Please, Achim.”
    He looked at his watch. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay? Look, Bridget, if Ellie arrives home you call me, straight away. You’re right, she’ll probably be back before I am.”
    “That’s what she did last time, remember?” said Bridget, desperate to make him wait, to give Ellie more time. The idea of the police being involved terrified her. It escalated things to another level.
    “But that was different,” he reasoned. “We knew she was with Joe.”
    Ellie had stormed out after a row, about her wish to study her A-levels in England and to live with her grandparents. As if Bridget was going to let her move to another country, at her age. After she’d gone, Bridget received an angry text saying she wasn’t coming home. But the text had been sent from Joe’s phone, so Bridget had known she was with him. The following day, Bridget had taken Ellie to the doctor for a morning-after pill, something Achim didn’t know.
    “Are we totally sure she’s not with Joe now?” Achim said.
    “He told you she wasn’t,” Bridget replied. “Besides, he finished with her. Remember?”
    “He could be lying. I think I’ll drive past his house on the way to the police station.”
    Achim was collecting his keys, his phone. He paused and for a moment she though he was going to kiss her, hold her. But no comfort came.
    “Call me if Ellie comes home,” he said.
Cate
    Cate Austin’s first waking thought was to wonder where she was.
    Living in Luxembourg was still so new to her that her brain had not fully registered that she had a new life. She sometimes woke feeling confused, expecting to be in her Ipswich semi with a pressing need to get a move on because she was once again late for work. She no longer had to worry about that. Not for the immediate future anyway.
    Cate stretched an arm across the bed, but Olivier was gone. She had learned that he was an early riser, and would likely have been up a few hours already, tapping away on his laptop and taking calls. For a city with the lowest crime rate in Europe, her detective boyfriend seemed plenty busy.
    Unlike Cate. Leaving the probation service was a relief, like finally putting down a heavy load she had been carrying for so long that she had become too used to its weight. Cases, reports, prison visits. And her last case, Humber Boy B, that had made the decision to move abroad so easy. She didn’t have to think about any of that