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added.
    ‘There’s no need,’ Rick said. ‘I can look after Lauren.’
    ‘And it isn’t safe for you, Jam,’ Annie added. ‘Sonia Holtwood knows what you look like.’
    ‘Then she’ll know I’m not the police, won’t she?’ Jam said flatly. ‘I’m going and that’s that.’
    Annie and Rick looked awkward, but they didn’t argue. I said nothing but, inside, I felt relieved.
    An hour later, Jam, Rick and I set off. Rick parked just down the road from the bridge and we got out of the car. The earth underfoot was dry and cracked. The sun was as high
and bright as it had been yesterday when Madison was taken. Was that really only twenty-four hours ago? I couldn’t bear to think how terrified and unhappy Madison must be, all on her own with
Sonia Holtwood. The backpack containing the two million pounds felt heavy on my back. Jam took my hand. I took a deep breath and sent a mental message to my little sister: We’re coming,
Mo, I promise. Just hang in there . . .
    ‘You sure you’re OK doing this?’ he asked.
    I nodded. Rick cleared his throat. ‘I guess we should wait here,’ he said gruffly. ‘Lauren needs to go on alone.’
    Jam met his gaze. ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘I’m going to wait at the bridge with her. Sonia Holtwood just said no police. And, like I said, she knows I’m not the cops,
which is an advantage. Anyway, I’m not letting Lauren do this alone.’
    ‘But she threatened to kill the little one.’ Rick’s voice rose in panic. ‘What about the risk? Wait.’
    But Jam had already dragged me away.
    ‘You shouldn’t be coming with me,’ I muttered as I stumbled after him across the field towards the bridge.
    I looked over my shoulder. Rick was hanging back by the car, clearly scared of following us himself.
    Jam made a face. ‘Like you always do what you’re told.’
    I bit my lip. I wanted to tell Jam I was grateful, but I didn’t want to sound all mushy. Jam himself was frowning, looking round. He was clearly preoccupied with what was about to
happen.
    We reached the bridge. It ran over a small stream which looked like it had once been a lot bigger. We slid down the bank to the water and walked under the bridge and out the other side. There
was no sign of anyone in the surrounding fields, just a couple of joggers in the distance.
    A few cars passed. We waited at the bottom of the bridge, by the stream. The sun was up now, but the air in the shade was cooler and there was a smell of damp. Rick was just visible, peering
over the bonnet of his car.
    ‘Now what?’ Jam said.
    I took my phone out of my pocket and checked it for what felt like the millionth time, though I knew there had been no call or text.
    ‘We wait,’ I said.
    Jam nodded then strolled under the little bridge again. It was only a few metres long, but the shady side of the bridge created dense shadows. I pressed my hand against the damp stone. Despite
the sparkling water, the bridge felt dank and gloomy – very different from how it had seemed last week, when we’d stopped to have our picture taken.
    ‘This place is spooky,’ I said with a shiver. ‘Imagine it at night.’
    As I spoke, my phone rang. Number withheld .
    Jam stopped walking. He turned and watched as I brought the mobile to my lips.
    ‘Hello?’ I said, my voice trembling.
    ‘Do you have the money?’ It was the kidnapper’s voice. Female, but disguised through that same robot-like filter. This time, though, I was sure I could make out the twang of
Sonia Holtwood’s American accent.
    ‘I’ve got it,’ I said. ‘Where’s Madison?’
    ‘Safe,’ Holtwood said. ‘She’s here. We’re waiting for you.’
    I looked round. There was still no sign of anyone on either side of the bridge. The joggers had long since disappeared and all I could see was an elderly man with a dog, walking slowly into the
distant trees.
    ‘Up the hill, away from the bridge and the road,’ the voice went on. ‘I’ve left the gate